Page 9 of Summer with a Doctor
Unfortunately, he’s right. We really should be getting back. His car is the only one left in the parking lot and I slip my feet back into my shoes before getting inside.
With Dean standing a few inches from me, he brings both of his hands to the sides of my face. Using his thumb, he brushes it across my cheek. My lips are desperate to feel his again, yet I don’t want him getting mixed signals. I’m not that kind of person. It may not seem like it, but I do have standards.
I had a one-night fling once in my life and I won’t make that mistake again.
Neither of us say much on the drive back to my place. As much as I’d like to invite him in, I keep the thought to myself. Some other time, just not now.
“Goodnight,” he says then takes my keys and unlocks the door for me.
“If you still need help painting, I’m free tomorrow.”
I disappear inside my place then lean against the door after I’ve locked it. A smirk appears on my face and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.
Chapter Eight
Dean
If I’m dreaming then please don’t wake me.
I roll over and pull the sheet up to my chin. I’m kind of glad Liz didn’t invite me in last night. Because if she had, I would have had a hard time saying no. Amongst other things…if you catch my drift.
It would’ve been super easy to rip that dress right over her head, to let my hands explore every inch of her body, but that’s not who I am. I have a hell of a lot more respect for a woman than that.
I jump when I hear the knock at my front door.
“What the crap?” I mumble under my breath then kick the sheet back with my foot. I grab a t-shirt out of my dresser drawer then head downstairs. Normally, I wouldn’t bother to see who it is—if someone needs me, more than likely they have my number and should’ve considered calling first—but I’m up now. The tile floor in the entryway is cold against the soles of my feet but not as cold as the breeze that sweeps through when I open the door and see Liz standing there. With her hair pulled up in one of those bun-thingies that women are always wearing, she’s dressed in a pair of denim overalls with a white tank-top underneath. The shorts are a wee bit short, but my mouth begins to water almost immediately.
“Hey, sleepyhead. I brought breakfast.” Liz dangles a paper bag in front of her and I’m pretty sure that’s a gourmet muffin from Mr. Buns sticking out the top.
When Mr. Buns first opened, the owner would bring extras by the hospital for us to try, but now that his business has taken off, he practically runs out every day.
“Were you passing through the neighborhood or something?” I tug at the hem of my shirt, praying she can’t tell that these are boxers that I’m wearing.
“Don’t tell me you were still asleep.” she teases.
“I’m not gonna lie. I’ve been awake for a little while, but I was still lying in bed.” Dreaming about you, I’d like to add but keep the thought to myself. “Come on in and I’ll put a pot of coffee on.”
“Ha!” she laughs out loud. “And here I thought you’d have one of those fancy coffee makers that dispenses one cup at a time.”
“Nope. I had one and hated the darn thing. It’s probably in the garage somewhere collecting dust.”
“Me too. I actually gave mine to Mr. Hillman since he limits himself to having just one cup a day. Speaking of Mr. Hillman, I spoke to him earlier and it looks like he’s going to be released later this afternoon or first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Oh yeah? That’s good news. The surgery must’ve gone well for him.”
“Yes and no.” Liz says then looks down at her shoes. The joyful expression she had on her face earlier has vanished now. “He’ll be going to a rehab facility until he’s able to come home. I already know what you’re going to say—those places are set up to help people like him, but it damn sure makes me feel useless. I’m a semester away from being finished with nursing school yet I can’t even take care of him. Help me make sense of it.”
“It’s more than just that, Liz. Mr. Hillman is basically helpless right now. You know how difficult it would be for him to take a bath or even get from one room to the other. When he’s better, then you can step in and take over from there.”
“Six weeks is a long time, though.”
“I’ve known some patients stay there for months, so if that’s what they’re estimating, he’s likely to be released sooner.”
“I hope you’re right. I have no idea what I’m going to do with all this time on my hands.”
“You could volunteer somewhere. Lots of places would love to have you help out, even if it’s only for a few hours a week. There’s websites with all kinds of listings for people needing assistance.”
“But this would be something temporary, only until he comes home.”