The Doctor's Secret Son

She and Trace had checked to make sure the medical area was still slow, then she’d slipped off to her tent to grab her toiletries where she bumped into her roommate.

“I’m headed to the shower truck to wash the bubbles off myself,” she told the smiling woman.

“I’ll be heading that way before the rush, too,” Bernadette said, from where she sat on her sleeping bag, holding her phone. “I’m going to call home and check on my husband and kids since there’s not a need in the medical tent right now.”

Chrissie nodded, then left their tent to give the woman a semblance of privacy. In reality, there was very little. Yet, four years ago, she and Trace had found ways to be alone, especially at night when they’d been the two manning the slow, midnight hours.

Trace.

She’d essentially agreed to get to know him.

Ha. What did that even mean? She wasn’t sure.

At least he’d been upfront that his main goal was to sleep with her again.

What a goal.

What a man.

She hung her head and took a deep breath. Why was she even fighting him?

He was right. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

Probably more.

But she was four years older, four years wiser, four years more mature. She didn’t have wild sexual flings.

Especially premeditated ones.

Then again, trying to convince herself of greater maturity right after playing in a sea of bubbles probably wasn’t the most effective argument she’d ever waged.

But, oh, how she’d had fun playing with Trace.

Who’d have ever thought she’d be surrounded by bubbles, dancing and acting goofy with Trace Stevens?

She’d have bet against those odds every time.

But she didn’t regret it. How could she when she’d laughed more than she recalled laughing in months? Years?

No, that wasn’t true. She laughed with Joss. Lots and lots. Goodness, but that kid made her happy.

And Savannah. Spending time with her best friend and her baby daughter made Chrissie happy, too. Prior to Savannah’s wedding, her friend had stayed the night and they’d giggled the night away while Joss slept.

But it was a different kind of laughter, a different kind of happy, than she felt at the moment. She couldn’t explain the difference, just recognized that there was one.

Maybe it had to do with how Trace had laughed along with her, that they’d shared some magical, fun moment.

Maybe, she tried to convince herself as she made it to the bath area.

Most of the CCPO participants were still at the bubble-a-thon. There wasn’t a line at the shower trucks.

Chrissie quickly squeezed into one of the tiny stalls inside the eighteen-wheeler shower trailer, rented for the event, and stripped off her sticky clothes. She let the warm water sluice over her body, then shampooed her hair, suds trickling down her nakedness.

Her mind couldn’t help where it went.

Not after seeing Trace again. Not after their bizarre conversation. Not after his telling her she looked good covered in bubbles.

He’d kissed her.