Page 10 of Merry with Me

“Make him some cookies or cupcakes or something. In fact, make some for us too.” She grins. “Ulterior motive and all that.” She shrugs.

“Which one do you want?” I ask her. “It’s not a bad idea.”

“I’m not gonna be picky.”

“Well, it’s November, so I’m thinking of baking cookies. Besides, we’re working on the gala together. Maybe that will get his grumpy ass in the holiday spirit?” He hates Christmas. I don’t know why, but who can resist a homemade sugar cookie? Sure, they’re popular at Christmastime, but if they’re not Christmas shaped, they’re just a sweet homemade treat.

“I say yes.” Isla bobs her head. “Do that. Oh, and cover the sugar cookies with the icing and sprinkles. I’ll help, you know, once the baking part is over.” She grimaces.

“You just need to slow down and follow the recipe. Baking is easy when you don’t leave out ingredients,” I tease.

“That was one time! One time I forgot.”

“As long as you learned from your mistake.”

“Just make me some damn cookies, woman.” She tosses a balled-up napkin at me.

“If you insist.” I toss my trash, and Isla finishes up cleaning our mess while I pull out the ingredients I’ll need. Yes, I have them on hand. It’s the holiday season, and you never know when you’re going to need or want to bake some cookies. Isla turns onsome tunes and starts unloading the dishwasher while I get to work.

With my container of cookies in hand, I leave my office and head toward the physicians’ pavilion of the hospital. That’s where Dr. Thompson’s office is located. The offices are quiet this time in the morning. Pushing open the door, I make my way to the front desk and smile politely at the receptionist.

“Good morning. I’m Blakely Kincaid from marketing. Is Dr. Thompson in?”

“Oh, Blakely, good morning,” Kathy, Dr. Thompson’s nurse, says as she steps into the reception area. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I was actually hoping to catch Dr. Thompson before he starts his day. I just need a few minutes of his time.”

“He’s not here yet, but you’re welcome to come on back and wait in his office.” She nods to the receptionist, who hits the button that automatically unlocks the door, allowing me to push through to the back office.

“Thank you, Kathy. I promise I won’t hold him up.”

She nods and glances down at the container in my hands. “Looks like you come bearing gifts too.” She smiles kindly.

“I did, actually. I had a flat tire last night, and Dr. Thompson found me in the parking lot cursing my tire. He helped me out and wouldn’t let me pay him, so this is just a thank-you gift.”

Her eyes widen. “He helped you with your tire?” she asks, as if she isn’t sure she heard me correctly.

“He did. It was so nice of him. Otherwise, I would have had to wait around for an hour for my roommate to get home.” I could have called my dad, but I didn’t want him to know I tookmy spare out for extra shopping room that I didn’t even need. It was stupid, but I was excited, and Isla and I were both shopping for our offices for this holiday season. Isla works for a small marketing firm based out of Atlanta, but her office is in Harris, which is the next town over from Willow River.

“Interesting,” she comments as we reach his office door. “You can have a seat. He should be here any moment.”

“Thank you, Kathy.” I want to ask her what’s so interesting about Dr. Thompson helping me, but I swallow back the question and take a seat in his office as she instructed.

I look around, taking everything in. Medical degrees hang on the wall, along with some certifications. There’s a picture of Dr. Thompson and an older couple, who must be his parents, and that’s it. No other personal touches. It’s hard to get to know the man when you have limited facts to work with. Just as I’m about to pull out my phone and consult the internet, he steps into his office.

“Good morning.”

He stops and turns to face me. “Ms. Kincaid. I wasn’t expecting you.”

The way he says it tells me that he’s not thrilled that I’m waiting for him in his personal space, not that it’s overly personal, but you know what I mean.

“I wanted to thank you again, so I made you some cookies.”

He remains standing, staring at me, so I stand as well and hand him the container. When he doesn’t make a move to take it, I step a little closer and pull back the lid. The smell of fresh sugar cookies fills the area between us.

He stares down at the container, his face void of emotion. When his eyes finally find mine, he says, “I don’t like Christmas cookies.”

Wait.