Private Practice (Private Pleasures 1)

“Don’t call me Sparky,” she called after him.

…

“Hey, Sparky, wait up!”

Ellie winced as her nickname reverberated across the town square, but when she turned to see Roger jogging up, all traces of irritation vanished.

“Hi, Roger.” Thank God she’d dressed for the office today, she thought as she ran her hands over her tan pencil skirt. He, on the other hand, looked uncharacteristically…rugged. His normally perfect hair needed a comb and, if her eyes didn’t deceive her, contained flecks of sawdust. The high humidity index alone didn’t explain his sweat-dampened T-shirt or the wrinkles in his tan cargo shorts. “What on earth have you been up to?”

He looked down at himself and grimaced. “I was over in Ashland all day building a Habitat house.”

She shook her head. “A Habitat house?”

“Habitat for Humanity,” he explained as he fell in step beside her. “It’s a charity dedicated to putting roofs over peoples’ heads. I recently began volunteering. My chance to play Bob the Builder for a day.”

Could he be more perfect? Handsome, intelligent, and charitable. “That’s wonderful, lending your talents to a good cause.”

“Well, I don’t know about talents. Mostly I’m a strong back and two unskilled hands. But every able body helps. We made a lot of progress today. Unfortunately”—he held out one hand, heel up—“sometimes progress comes at a cost.”

She took his smooth, well-manicured hand in hers and examined the splinter wedged into the pad of flesh below his thumb. “Ouch.”

“Yeah. Stubborn little bugger. I spent the last half hour going after it with a pair of tweezers, but I think I only worked it in deeper. Then I called Melody, because…well…old habits, I guess, plus I figured she’d enjoy stabbing at me for a while, but she told me you went to the office today and suggested I give you a call. I was about to do that when I spotted you.”

Of course he’d call Melody first, she told herself, swallowing disappointment. They’d been a couple forever, and were still close. What mattered was that he sought her out now. He needed her. “Good timing. You just caught me. Let’s go upstairs and I’ll take care of you.”

“Thanks Ellie, I appreciate it.” His dazzling smile heated her cheeks.

“No problem.” She floated back to her office and led him into an exam room.

While she probed with her tweezers for the end of the splinter, she asked, as casually as possible, “Do you have big plans for your Saturday night?”

“Hmm? Oh. Nothing major. A friend of mine from New York is in Lexington. I’m driving over and meeting him for dinner. We might hit a club or something afterward.”

For one fanciful second, she imagined Roger and her as a couple, spending the evening in Lexington with his out-of-town friend. It sounded a million times better than her actual plan— the weekly check-in with Frank. Drop off groceries, test his blood sugar, and issue another lecture on proper diet and diabetes management, which would once again fall on deaf ears. Hopefully be on her way before either of them ran out of patience.

“Sounds fun,” she said with what she hoped was casual enthusiasm.

Roger offered her a surprisingly wistful smile. “Yeah, it will be. Doug’s a great guy. I wish we could hang out more often, but he’s in Manhattan, and Bluelick isn’t exactly a subway stop away, so…”

His voice held a note of something she worried might be nostalgia. Did he prefer big-city life, with his big-city friends? Were his days in Bluelick numbered? She shook off a wave of alarm. “So, tonight you’ll enjoy catching up with an old friend, and I’m pleased to say you’ll do it splinter-free.” Holding up the tweezers, she showed him the sliver of extracted wood.

“Wow. You’ve got a gentle touch. I didn’t feel a thing.”

“Maybe you’ve got nerves of steel. Should we test the theory with a tetanus shot?”

An adorable little furrow appeared between his brows. “I had one about three weeks ago, when I stepped on a nail on another project. Do I need one again so soon?”

“No. You’re fine. You may want to consider another way of contributing to the cause, though. Sounds like building houses is hazardous to your health.”

Roger stood and laughed. “You might be right, but I could never bail on Tyler.”

“What’s Tyler got to do with it?” Even as she asked the question, something toppled from the archives of her memory and drifted to the front of her mind. Last night, when he’d left her place pleading an early-morning commitment, had he mentioned Ashland?

“He’s our foreman. He donates time and money to several Habitat projects a year. His construction firm does well, and this is his way of giving back. I figure the least I can do is show up and lend a hand.”

“In that case, better add work gloves and some steel-shank boots to your Christmas list.”

He grinned. “Right. See you later. Thanks for dealing with my code red.”