“Nah. Glad you’re home.”
He hung up and stared out the window for a minute, a memory niggling at the back of his mind. He’d been eleven, having just returned to his mother’s stately home after his dad died. He was scared and heartbroken but determined not to show it, instead trying to pretend he didn’t care. Didn’t care about the life he’d lost, his father, or that his own mother looked at him like she barely remembered his name. And he certainly didn’t care for or even like the four-year-old blond girl in pigtails who tagged around after him, so excited to have someone else around the house she could try to connect with. At least, that’s what he’d told himself.
But Morgan had been persistent, and soon enough he found himself a guest at her tea parties, sitting opposite her as they drank from empty teacups and nibbled on broken-up Pop-Tarts. And liking it. Liking her, even though he’d tried to fight it.
She’d given him something to love again. An adoring little sister who thought the sun rose and set behind him. But somewhere in the past few years, life had become busier, and the closeness they’d once had as kids became a distant memory.
How had he let that happen?
But this weekend, he’d had the most fulfilling few days he’d had in a while. Spending time with his niece, sharing little moments like bedtime stories and singing songs in the car on the way to her day camp. Holding her on his lap as she giggled when he fumbled over her silly Angry Birds game while Benny tried on clothes. Holding her hand when Benny pried the Skittle from her nose. It had been nice.
Then there was Benny.
A woman who both frustrated and amused him at the same time. She was definitely unlike any woman he’d ever been around. Women usually flirted with and teased him, looking for some angle to get their hooks into him. Benny Sorensen barely tolerated him. The woman was crazy and outspoken and stubborn.
But she was also bighearted, rushing to help Ella not because she felt an obligation as a doctor, but because she genuinely cared. And she made him laugh. Made him actually look forward to their next meeting.
In fact, tonight, he might have to stop by her place just to see how today went.
See if she’d managed some face time with Dr. Seeley without physically maiming someone.
…
Benny stood outside Luke’s office, a Starbucks cup in each hand.
You can do this. It’s like Henry said. Pretend Luke is just another colleague, a friend. Pretend he’s your last boyfriend, Chip. And, if worst comes to worst, pretend he’s Henry. That should quell any nervousness she had at speaking to him.
Taking a breath, she stepped inside the doorway. Luke’s head was bent down over his desk as he wrote notes on a chart. Apparently he hadn’t heard her arrive.
She cleared her throat nervously, only it sounded a lot worse than she would have liked and she nearly choked on the phlegm she’d rattled up. Lovely.
He glanced up and broke into a smile. “Dr. Sorensen. Benny. Good to see you.”
Okay. Just the start she was hoping for. She held up one of the cups. “Thought I’d bring you a fresh coffee this morning. Payback for the last cup that I cost you.” It had sounded really good in her head, but somehow, all the oxygen had squeezed out of her lungs and, as she’d tried to speak, her voice sounded alarmingly like one of the Chipmunks. She took in a breath, trying not to appear as winded as she felt.
“Coffee sounds pretty good. Thanks.” He waited, and she realized she was supposed to bring him his cup.
Careful. You don’t want to trip and send this coffee sailing into his lap.
Even though the shoes Henry had picked out were stylish slip-ons without even a heel, she felt unsteady outside of her reliable sneakers with the orthopedic inserts. But she had to admit, they did pull together the look of her black ankle-length pants and the blue shirt she’d liked so much. She had even brushed her hair out and loosened her ponytail. The effect, with the small gold hoop earrings Henry had made her buy, softened her features a bit. Not bad.
He took the cup from her. “Thanks.” His eyes seemed to pause on her, taking in her face—for possibly the first time—and a quick once-over down to her shoes as he took a drink. Was that a flicker of surprise in his eyes?
She took a sip of her own drink, steadying the excitement creeping over her. Maybe there had been some truth in Henry’s assessment. She felt a little more confident today. More feminine as she’d stood in front of the mirror, noticing the way the formfitting clothes gave her an hourglass appearance. Was Luke picking up on that?
Silence followed. Now what? Oh, the w
eekend. Details. She’d heard people turn the phrase often enough, and she’d done it herself a time or two. But not when it came to Luke Seeley.
“So, how was your weekend?” she forced herself to say. Above Luke’s head was an autographed photo of a golf pro she didn’t recognize, unsurprisingly. Inspiration struck. “It was a beautiful weekend for golf, right?”
His light hazel eyes shined. “It was amazing. I spent practically the whole weekend on the greens. I shot an eighty-three on Saturday and eighty-four on Sunday. My driver and long clubs were spot-on, and I hit one of my best games. Do you play?” he asked and took a drink from his cup.
She didn’t see much choice here. “I do. Love it. Nothing better than being out there. On the green. Um, shooting.” That sounded pathetic, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Really? What’s your best game?”
“I, uh…” He’d said eighty-four. So she should probably stay in that ballpark. But…higher or lower? She took a gamble. “Ninety-three?”