Abiding Ink (Inked in the Steel City #4) (2 page)

“Mallory.” The doctor flashed a wide, bright white grin as he swooped down on her, eyeing her like a hawk might look down at a fluffy little bunny. “You checked Ms. Sherwin’s blood sugar before letting her have lunch, right?”

“Yes.” Mallory nodded. “I—”

The doctor held up a hand. “Great. Make sure you get a reading after her meal, too.”

“Of course.”

The doctor started to take a step forward, simultaneously raising one auburn brow. “Will I be seeing you at my holiday soiree next week?”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Bringing a date?”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

The doctor’s grin widened. “Not a problem. There’ll be plenty of opportunities to meet people at the party. Singles are more than welcome.” He winked before striding off at the speed of light, still grinning.

The meal cart creaked as Tyler gripped the handle a little too hard and it crept forward, venturing dangerously close to Mallory’s hip. He hurried to pull it back as Dr. Creepster disappeared into Ms. Sherwin’s room and the elderly woman’s cry of delight echoed all the way out into the hall.

Apparently Ms. Sherwin wasn’t just into ink – she liked her visitors clean cut, too.

“I’ve gotta get back to work.” Mallory stepped around the meal cart.

“See you later. And if I don’t, feel free to come see me about that tattoo.” He watched her as she strode away. Was it just his imagination, or did her lips turn down the tiniest bit at the corners?

Shit, he’d only been kidding… As much as he’d love an excuse to lay hands on her – any excuse – he’d never pressure anyone to get ink they didn’t want. Repressing the desire to kick his own ass, he started forward again, more careful than ever this time. The meal cart’s wheels groaned long and low, just like he wanted to.

So much for Mallory being into guys like him. Judging by the prim little frown he’d just glimpsed, Dr. Creepster was more her type.

* * * * *

“Hey, mom.” Mallory stepped into the warmth of the apartment, letting her hair down from its bun and shaking snowflakes free.

“Snowing again?” Her mother looked up from where she sat at the kitchen table, a Sudoku puzzle book open in front of her.

“Yeah. Nothing too heavy, though.” Mallory froze as something on the counter caught her eye. “Mom… What are these?”

A familiar sense of mingled exasperation and determination filled her as she eyed the white box with its transparent window. Sure enough, it displayed sticky treat after sticky treat, donuts doused in glaze that definitely wasn’t sugar-free.

Her mother waved a hand, glancing back down at her puzzle. “Oh, you know how it is. Some kids came by a few weeks ago selling donuts for a school fundraiser. Maybe eight or nine, and just too cute. I couldn’t say no.”

Mallory picked up the box, her palms tingling. Spiderman had his spidey sense, and she had her sugar sense. “You know you can’t eat these, right? Dr. Miller—”

Another dismissive hand wave. “Oh, I know that. I figured we could keep them around for when your brother and sister visit for Christmas.”

“They’ll be stale by then.” Yeah, right – if she didn’t get them out of the house, they’d be
gone
by then. Very few people could resist the lure of a dozen fresh donuts, and her mother wasn’t one of them.

“Well…” Her mother jotted something down in her Sudoku booklet.

The puzzles were her latest thing. Since she’d stopped working a year ago for health reasons, she’d had a string of low-key hobbies.

“How about I take them in to work with me tomorrow and set them out in the break room? I’ll tell everyone you sent them as a holiday treat.”

“Sure, sure.”

Relieved, Mallory opened up a cabinet and shoved the donuts inside, hiding them in the very back, behind a box of chicken stock. She wouldn’t forget to take them with her in the morning, and if even one was missing…

“Mom, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your diet, anyway. If you’re going to be successful with limiting your sugar, we have to keep junk food out of the house. You can’t avoid it if—”

“Mallory, sweetheart, I know you care about my health, but believe me, I’m doing fine. I didn’t want to disappoint those children, so I bought a box of donuts. That doesn’t mean I’m going to start eating pixie sticks and dumping sugar cubes in my coffee.”

Mallory barely repressed a sigh. This wasn’t the first time her mother had tried to play off her concern, which was every bit as professional as it was daughterly. In fact, this was how their health conversations always went. Her mother would wave her hand and pretend to be caught up in Sudoku or whatever was on TV – anything other than what they really needed to talk about. She wanted to pretend that she didn’t have type 2 diabetes, and Mallory, on the other hand…

Well, she just wanted her mother to be healthy. Happy. And that started with managing her diabetes. “I’m serious, mom. It’s okay to say no to people who don’t understand why you can’t have sugary junk food. Your health is more important than their feelings.”

Horror scenarios raced through her mind as she watched her mother pretend to be absorbed in her puzzle. Kidney failure, strokes, heart disease and worse… She’d seen it all in diabetic patients at work. No way was she going to let any of those things happen to her mom if she could help it.

“I’m fine, Mallory. Take the donuts to work tomorrow. Don’t worry about me.”

Fat chance. Frowning, Mallory shed her coat. As she hung it by the hook on the wall, her phone rang from somewhere in the depths of her purse. She fished it out just in time to glimpse the caller ID.

She let it go to voicemail. She couldn’t talk to her father right now – not after the conversation she’d just had with her mother. After all, if there was anyone to blame for her mother’s health and related apathy, it was him. The thought soured Mallory’s stomach, and she counted slowly backwards from ten.

She loved both of her parents – deep down, she really did. But just like she couldn’t trust her mother with sugar, she couldn’t trust her dad with, well … anything.

“Who called?” her mother asked, clearly eager for an excuse to change the topic.

“Unknown number,” Mallory lied. “Probably just a telemarketer.”

Her mother pursed her lips. “They’re not supposed to call cellphones.”

“I know. Listen, I’m gonna relax a little. Then you and I can try out that new salmon Florentine recipe we found last week, all right?”

“Sure.”

Mallory retreated to her room, her feet aching inside her sneakers as she contemplated the imminent prospect of whipping up a delicious, nutritious and completely sugar-free meal her mother would actually enjoy. Mallory was no natural-born chef, but over the past few years – since her mother’s doctor had put her on insulin – she really had been making a serious effort to master healthy cooking. It was something she could do … even if it wasn’t enough.

Sighing, Mallory flipped open her laptop and hit the power button. A little escapism before dinner wouldn’t hurt. As soon as she had the web browser open, she typed in the search term she’d been itching to query for the past several hours:
Hot Ink tattoo Pittsburgh
.

The studio’s website came up right away and she double-clicked, her heart skipping a beat.

* * * * *

“Ooh, donuts from Ms. Health Nut. What’d we do to deserve these?” Wanda, a nurse with flaming red hair and an infamous sweet tooth, swooped down on the box Mallory had just set on the break room table.

“My mom bought these from some kids doing a school fundraiser. She’s diabetic, so we can’t have them in the house. She thought you all might enjoy them.”

“Aha.” Wanda reached in and fished one out. “You’re dumping them on us. Still, thanks.”

“I’ll tell my mom you said thanks.”

Wanda gestured toward the coffee maker. “I know these greasy, gooey donuts are totally beneath you, but are you at least going to join me for a cup of coffee?”

It wasn’t that junk food was beneath Mallory; it was just that with all the healthy shopping and cooking she did for her mom, it was easier to live that way herself, too. Lead by example and all that. Plus, she didn’t want to be diagnosed with diabetes herself ten or fifteen years down the line.

“What do you say?” Wanda prodded.

Mallory glanced at the clock. Ten minutes until her shift started. Plenty of time for half a cup. After pouring one, she sank down into a chair across from Wanda.

“So what are you planning to wear to Dr. Anthony’s party?” Wanda asked, licking a dot of glaze from her lip.

“I have no idea,” Mallory replied truthfully. “Why?”

“Oh, I was thinking about getting a few of the girls from our shift together for a little after-work shopping trip sometime this week. If anyone has time, that is. Plus…” She leaned forward and flashed Mallory a wink. “Rumor has it that Dr. Anthony is
very
glad that you’ll be attending the party alone.”

Suspicion rippled over Mallory, just like her breath rippled over the surface of her coffee. “What do you mean?”

“I mean Julie said he made a comment about it yesterday. You told him you weren’t bringing a date, right?”

“Only because he asked.”

“Well…” Wanda shrugged. “Apparently he asked because he’s interested. According to Julie, he said he was looking forward to getting to know you better. You know, because you’ve only been working under him for six months.” She flashed another wink.

Ugh. Mallory downed a sip of too-hot coffee, then another. Six months as Dr. Anthony’s subordinate was more than long enough to know exactly why the nurses called him Dr. Heartbreaker behind his back. His love ‘em and leave ‘em attitude was legendary, and while some of the nurses might have been eager to take a chance on him despite his reputation, she wasn’t one of them.

“So, wanna come along on my little shopping trip?”

“Let me know if you’re able to get anything together,” Mallory eventually conceded. “I guess I could use a new outfit for the party.” Like a chunky cable knit, floor-length sweater dress with a turtleneck, maybe. Or, if she couldn’t find one of those, a nun’s habit would work. Anything to escape Dr. Anthony’s roving eye. Even if she didn’t find his perma-grin appealing, she didn’t mind working with him. She liked her current position, and she wasn’t going to risk it by falling victim to her boss’s carnal appetites.

“Maybe I’ll bring a date,” she mumbled as she downed the last swig of her coffee and pushed her chair back from the table.

“Huh?” Wanda looked up from her own empty coffee cup.

“Nothing,” Mallory said. Where would she find a date in time for the party? It was only a week away. Unlike Dr. Anthony, she didn’t have a string of eager would-be lovers lined up at her metaphorical door. In fact, his rumored fascination with her – if she could even call it that – was the closest thing to a romantic overture she’d experienced in months.

Guys whistling at her on the street didn’t count. She had her career, her family … sure, sometimes she longed for something more, but that something definitely wasn’t Dr. Anthony. Truth was, he wasn’t her type. At all. But as a doctor, he wasn’t used to hearing that. Mallory was left at a total loss when it came to devising a tactful way to let him know that she just wasn’t interested…

Until she was nearly run over by a meal cart for the second time in twenty-four hours, anyway.