“Will you make potato salad?”
Sarah laughed and handed him a paper bag. “Oooh, a request. I’ll make you a deal. I’ll make the salad if you’ll bring a date.”
Josh sighed, wishing everyone would stop with the matchmaking. “Sarah … you and Jess have been plotting again.”
“And Mom. Don’t forget Mom. We were thinking Elaine, you know? From the inn?”
Lainey Price. Nice enough but so not his type. “No matchmaking.”
“Or maybe Summer’s free. You do tend to end up together at these things.”
He sent her a dark warning look. Summer was a nice girl, too, but that was it. Nice. Not for him. “Back off, Sarah,” he warned.
“You’re lonely.”
“No, I’m not. And I can find my own girl if I want one.”
“Then why don’t you?”
It was a fair question. Erin had been gone nearly two years. Did he still grieve? Yes. But not necessarily for the reasons his family thought. He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to go down that road again. Dating in this town was problematic, too. Everyone would know within the hour and would have them marching down the aisle by the following breakfast. There would be no privacy to fall in love, just pressure. It was easier just to steer clear.
“Not yet,” he answered, not wanting to get into his personal life with Sarah this morning. All he wanted was to have his breakfast and get to work and treat this like any other day.
Because that’s exactly what it was. A day just like yesterday, and tomorrow would be the same again. Until he damn well felt like changing it.
“I still want potato salad. Now let me get going.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek again, knowing he could definitely get around her that way.
The fog was thick as he drove to the edge of town and the small prefab that Tom used as an office for Arseneault Contracting. He dropped off the circular saw he’d borrowed to cut some new deck boards and then drove the six blocks to the clinic. It was oddly quiet after he shut the truck door. On mornings like this, the sounds of the bay held a different, mysterious quality that almost felt otherworldly.
He could see the moisture hang in the air and he tried not to let the dismal weather drag down his mood. This was the life he’d chosen. His own practice, back with his family. At the time it had made the most sense. But lately there was something missing. Something more that left him unsatisfied. He wished he could put his finger on it.
This damned fog wasn’t helping matters any. He opened the back door to the office and flicked on the lights. Their assistant, Robin, was already ten minutes late, and when he booted up the computer the e-mail showed she’d be an hour late because her kid had popped a wire on his braces,
requiring an emergency trip to the orthodontist. Josh turned on the radio for background noise and set to work making coffee.
“Dammit,” he muttered, running a hand over his hair. “Why do I bother hiring people when they never manage to show up on time?” Now he was on the hook for pulling the first patient files and making sure the exam rooms were prepared.
When the back door opened and shut again, his irritation spilled over. “It’s about time!” he called out. “Your appointment go faster than expected?”
“I didn’t realize I was late,” said a soft voice, and Josh paused, his hand on the trash can that hadn’t been emptied the night before.
He looked over his shoulder, knowing it had to be Dr. Howard but unprepared for the sight just the same. Medium height. A bit too skinny for his taste. Good eyes, though, he thought, and he suspected her dark hair would be quite a sight to behold if she ever let it down. Today she had it pulled back in a low, demure ponytail. Professional. He liked that. His own personal reaction? Not so much a fan. It had been a long time since the sound of a woman’s low voice made his pulse jump.
“I’m Elizabeth Howard,” she said smoothly, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow at him.
“Josh Collins.”
“You’re Dr. Collins.” Her other eyebrow rose to meet the first, making it more of a question than a statement despite the inflection.
He wasn’t sure what it was about her tone that set him on edge, but it did. “Who did you think I was?”
“I don’t know. The janitor?”
Josh chuckled tightly and put down the trash can. Dr. Howard, on the one hand, was dressed in neat trousers and a pressed blouse and sensible flats. He, on the other hand, was in faded jeans and a golf shirt in muted orange. It was Jewell Cove, after all, and not Johns Hopkins. “I actually do have an assistant who normally looks after this stuff. She has an orthodontist emergency this morning. I thought you were her.”
“Oh.” Her lips thinned in disapproval, as if the tardiness was a reflection on the entire setup. “Where can I put my things?”
“Your office. End of the hall on the right. You’ll see Charlie’s name on the door.”