Doctor For Hire

“Shit,” Tabitha murmurs rubbing her head and even through the pain that makes me smile.

“Yeah,” I answer, and before I can try and move in again, Tabitha pulls out what looks to be a gray plastic grocery bag under her leg.

“Quick. Throw your chicken in here,” she urges, already depositing hers.

“Umm… why?”

“Because with it gone, Hil will think you ate it and then you can get out of here and go find real food.”

“What about you?” I ask her. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I’ll fix myself a sandwich after she goes to sleep.”

“But you’ll be hungry,” I respond, not liking her plan at all.

“I’m fine. But if you don’t hurry, you’re going to have to eat that chicken and you will not be okay.”

I pick my chicken up with my fork and put it in the opened bag that Tabitha is holding. Once that’s done, she ties the sack and then carries it over to the buffet behind us. She opens a drawer and throws it in there. She makes it back to her seat right as her sister comes in from the kitchen. I frown because her sister being in the room stops me from asking Tabitha any more questions—and getting another kiss.

“Dessert is served!” Tabitha’s sister announces proudly.

I look dubiously at the pieces of cake in her hand. They’re covered in white… it’s not frosting it looks like maybe a spray whipped topping. I lean in close to Tabitha and whisper in her ear.

“This should be okay. How bad could she mess up cake?”

Tabitha pulls back to look at me. She studies me and for a minute it looks like she’s looking straight inside of me. That one simple stare affects me more than I could have thought possible.

“You don’t want to know the answer to that question,” she says her lips spreading in a soft smile as her finger reaches out to brush against the bottom of mine.

I find myself sucking just the tip of her finger into my mouth, kissing it briefly, just long enough that I notice Tabitha’s eyes dilating. Then I let it go.

But I’m definitely not letting Tabitha go.

Chapter Seven

Tabitha

“I didn’t realize there were people who actually cut peppers up and put it in a cake.”

“My sister does,” I tell Brody, still smiling. I’ve been smiling this whole night. Who would have thought that Brody would be so fun to be around? Or that he would kiss me… I have to resist the urge to reach up and touch my lips, because I really want too. I can still feel his lips against mine an hour later. Dinner is done and my sister went to the guest room to call Robbie.

Which means I’ve been alone with Brody and it’s been nice.

We talked and he helped clean up the mess left behind by my sister. She might find cooking fun, but cleanup is not her forte. Now we’re standing at the door saying goodbye, and I find myself wishing he would stay. Which is crazy.

“You didn’t eat it did you?” I gasp.

“No… but I ate around them… the taste permeated the cake.”

“Yeah… you should have done like me and just picked at the cake and it makes it look like there’s some missing.”

“You have way too much experience at this.”

“It’s the survival instinct,” I laugh.

“Does Rodney know about his new wife’s kitchen skills?” Brody asks. I look up at him in surprise and see the laughter on his face and it makes me giggle. Seriously, I’ve been giggling all night at Brody. He makes me feel like a school girl again.

“It’s Robbie and if there’s any justice that would be a no,” I answer, shaking my head.

“Did you care for this guy?” Brody asks and I have to think on that. My first instinct is to not answer, but if Brody is going to be nice enough to be my date to this god-awful wedding, I figure I owe him the truth.

“I did once. But, it was long ago.”

“Then why tell your sister that we are—”

“I’m so sorry, Brody. I tried to tell her the truth and you seriously don’t have to do this. I just—”

I stop talking when Brody presses his fingers against my lips. My gaze locks with his and his face is soft. His eyes are shining and in that moment I’m pretty sure I fall in love with Brody Miner. If not love, then it’s definitely instant lust.

“I wasn’t judging, Tabby. I was genuinely curious.”

“I hate being called, Tabby. It makes me sound like a cat…”

The words are mumbled against his fingers, but I still felt I needed to say them. His lips spread into a smirk and he shakes his head. He moves his fingers away but keeps his hand on my neck, softly stroking the sensitive area.

“Then, what do you like to be called?”