Every Glance (Every Life #3) (16 page)

“Actually, no. Nothing happened. I pretty much kicked her out of the shower and she left. I didn’t sleep much last night because I have a lot on my mind…her included.”

She slumps back into her seat, obviously disappointed that the juicy story turned out to be bone dry. “Well, that’s a strange concept. A man actually turned down sex. So you’re done with this one, huh?”

“I guess I am,” I say as I jerk my shoulders up and down. “I don’t know. I’m taking her to dinner tomorrow night to talk to her, to let her know that I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

“So you’re moving on to the sister, aren’t you.” It’s not a question. It’s an accusation.

My eyes fall to the floor. “No, but it’s not because I didn’t try. I asked her out, and she said that she couldn’t.”

“Are you serious?” She nearly rolls her eyes right out of her head. “You can’t date sisters. Of course, she said ‘no,’ you moron.”

“But Ella, there’s something I haven’t told you. The sister…Devyn…she’s
the
girl. You know, the one I told you about from high school.”

She gasps. “The bitch? Why in the hell would you want to date her? Are you
trying
to punish yourself?”

“She’s different now.”

“No, she may have gotten better at hiding it, but people like that don’t change, Dalton.”

I stand and pace the length of her office. “I think she has.”

“You want to think she has, but I promise she hasn’t. Don’t pursue it. Don’t open yourself up to all of that again.” She lets her head fall and thud onto a stack of files. “Crap. She’s the one with the kid that you had here last weekend,” she says, her voice muffled.

“Yep.” My lips pop on the emphasis of the “p.”

She sits back up and tucks her hair behind her ear. “So, not only are you opening up old wounds, you’re also wanting to play ‘dad’ to the kid? You don’t even want kids, Dalton. Don’t you see that you’re bending yourself into what you think she wants just so you can finally have her.”

“It’s not like that, El,” I argue.

“It’s your life, Dalton.” She throws her hands up. “But think about it long and hard. I think you need to just let it go.”

We drop the subject as the front door jingles, signaling the arrival of my first patient. I dive headfirst into my day and try not to think too much about what Ella said. I doubt that ‘letting it go’ will even be an issue because Devyn doesn’t want to date me anyway. After tomorrow night, I’ll be done with Kyler, and I’ll just have to hope Devyn will still let me see Simon some.

About halfway through the afternoon, the receptionist asks if I can work someone in, so because I’m actually ahead of schedule for once, I agree. And it doesn’t take too long before I’m wishing I hadn’t.

Linda Avery is sitting on the exam table when I enter the room, and it’s hard to keep myself from walking right back out. “Good afternoon, Ms. Avery. What can I do for you today?”

I stay near the door instead of walking over to her, hoping and praying that she’s just here for a refill on her blood pressure meds or with some concern that won’t require my close proximity. But I know her better than that.

“My throat is a little scratchy. It may just be allergies, but I heard that strep is going around, so I thought it’d be best for you to check it.”

Shit. Not only do I have to be in the same room with her, but now I have to get within inches from her. And I can’t pull Ella in here right now because she still assisting Stan with some stitches.

“Have you had any fever, Ms. Avery?” I grab a thermometer cover out of the canister between two fingers and slide it over the stem.

“I don’t think so,” she practically purrs as I approach.

I try not to notice the way she caresses her top lip with her tongue as I place the metal end of the thermometer in her mouth. The seconds of waiting for the little beep are excruciating with the way she’s looking me up and down, and as suspected, when it does beep, it reads a perfectly normal temperature.

After tossing the cover in the trash, I open another canister to pull out a tongue depressor, and I find myself wishing they were six feet long instead of six inches. “Let’s take a look at your throat,” I say, hesitantly approaching her and placing the depressor on the end of her tongue, which isn’t even needed, really. She’s a pro at opening her mouth wide, it seems.

“Tonsils aren’t swollen.” I shine my light into the very back of her throat. “And it’s only the slightest bit red in the—” My words are cut short because both of her hands are no longer on the table.

No, one of them in cupped between my legs.

“Just as I thought. Hung like a horse,” she coos, squeezing gently.

I try to step back away from her, but as soon as I do, her hand becomes a vice grip, so I can’t back away without leaving a very important part of me behind. It’s just almost enough pressure to take my breath away.

“Ms. Avery, I’m going to have to ask you to let go. This isn’t appropriate.”

She trails her index finger down my chest. “Oh, screw propriety. Come on…we can be quick, and no one will ever know.”

I toss the tongue depressor onto the bed, and I wrap a hand around her wrist and squeeze almost at tight as she is. “
I’ll
know. Let go of me. Now.”

“You’re just afraid we’ll get caught, but that’s what makes it so fun. I’ll bend over this table a little, you can lift up my skirt, and we can be out of here in a few minutes. No one will come in here as long as we’re fast.” Her other hand moves to dip into my waistband, so I drop my light into my breast pocket and reach down to stop her from going any further.

“I’m serious, Linda. This is my last warning. Take your damn hands off me, or I’ll call Ella in here. You can either leave without a scene, or I’m okay with making a big one. Your choice.”

Her eyes narrow slightly and she grips me even tighter. “Don’t threaten me. You
will
regret it.”

“And you’ll regret it when I make a few calls to the board members about your behavior.” I don’t squeeze as hard as I can, but I tighten my hold enough for her to squint. “I won’t ask you again to release me.”

She doesn’t budge.

Fine. “Ella…Stan,” I call out as loud as I can. “Can you come into room four immediately?”

I can hear the squeak of Ella’s shoes on the linoleum getting closer, and just as the knob is turning, Ms. Avery lets go.

“What’s going on?” Ella asks and Stan appears in the door behind her.

Linda wrenches her arm from my grip. “What’s going on is your doctor is manhandling me!” She holds up her wrist to reveal a red handprint. “Do you see this? I’m going to have no choice but to contact my lawyer immediately.”

Stan blocks her escape. “That probably wouldn’t be in your best interest, Ms. Avery. You see, I saw what happened out in the hallway when you were here last week, and the cameras caught it all, too.” He looks over at me. “I trust Dr. Hoover implicitly. And I know that the only way he’d ever put his hands on you is to block your inappropriate advances and to protect, not only his reputation, but the reputation of my clinic. However, I’ll have no problem putting your reputation on the line if you choose to pursue your lies any further.”

“Well,” she huffs, walking up to Stan and shoving him aside. “You won’t have to worry about having my family’s business again.”

As soon as we hear the waiting room door slam, Ella starts cackling so hard that she nearly falls over, and I just scowl at her. “It’s not funny. She literally had me by the balls and wouldn’t let go. I didn’t know what to do other that call you in here, so it wouldn’t be my word against hers.”

“It’s okay.” Sam is trying hard not to crack a smile, but the smirk isn’t as easy to tame. “I’m glad you called us in. Maybe we won’t have to worry about her anymore.”

I close my eyes and hang my head. “I cannot believe that just happened.”

Ella starts to say something, but it just sends her into another fit of giggles. All I can make out is “the look on her face.”

Stan crosses the room and claps me on the back. “I was once accosted by a seventy year old. At least yours still has her teeth. Come on…we have about four more patients, and we’re done for the day. Don’t worry about her. She won’t take it any further, and I’ll tell Stephanie not to book any more appointments for her.”

I nod, pausing before following them out of the exam room to adjust my now-tender testicles.

I’m so ready to get out of here.

AFTER RUSHING THROUGH the last of my patients and finishing up all of my paperwork, I’m pleased to make it home by five. It’s been a while since I’ve made it home that early, but then again, I don’t get felt up every day either.

I’ve been fuming ever since it happened.

I’m not in the mood to see anyone, so I opt to wash the day away in a scalding shower and melt away the lingering memories with a couple of beers. So I park myself in front of the TV with half of the rotisserie chicken I picked up on the way home, a pile of steamed broccoli, and a cold one…or two.

About halfway through my meal and toward the end of my second beer, my doorbell rings, and I cringe. I actually think about not answering it, but considering how loud the TV is and the fact that I left the garage open, whoever it is knows I’m home. I just hope it isn’t Kyler.

Padding quietly to the door in my usual attire of athletic shorts, I decide quickly that, if it’s Kyler, I’m going to put more clothes on before I answer the door. Peeking into the peephole, I don’t see anything, so I open the door and step out onto the porch. I nearly have a heart attack when I see Devyn’s car parked behind mine. And another one when she steps around the corner of the house.

“Oh, there you are. When you didn’t answer right away, I thought you might be out back.”

She looks amazing, but then again, she always does. Today, she’s wearing skinny jeans with flats and an open cardigan the same color as the golden sunset over a lace-trimmed, black-and-white patterned top. The bright yellow contrasts beautifully against her pale skin and long, loose curls of chestnut hair.

“Uh, hey, Devyn. Come on in.”

I get a whiff of her shampoo as she walks by, and I feel a sinking weight in my stomach. Why does she have to smell so damn good?

“I brought your jacket back.” Her eyes drift down my bare chest and stomach when she turns around, and her cheeks flood with color. So, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, I take the jacket and excuse myself for a second to grab a t-shirt from my closet.

“Have a seat,” I offer when I walk back into the living room.

She walks around the coffee table and perches on the edge of the cushion as if she’s contemplating running right back out the front door. “Thanks,” she says quietly.

“How’s Simon?” I take a seat on the other end, leaving an entire cushion between us.

“Oh, he’s probably none too pleased at the moment. His dad picked him up from Kyler’s this afternoon because I had to work a little late. Otherwise, he’s feeling better and doing fine.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

You might be able to cut through the awkward silence in the room with a chainsaw, if you were lucky. Devyn is fidgeting with her charm bracelet and I’m eyeing my beer, wondering if it would be rude to guzzle it real quick.

“Uh, can I get you something to drink or a plate? I don’t mind to share my dinner if you haven’t eaten.”

Her head snaps to me. “I’d love a drink, but I’m planning on picking up some dinner on the way home.”

“Nonsense, I have more than enough.” I jump up from the couch and head into the kitchen to reheat the bowl of broccoli. “You do like broccoli and chicken, right? I also have some veggies if you prefer a salad.”

She walks around the couch to sit at the bar. “What you’re having is just fine. Thanks.”

After cutting the other breast off the chicken, I set it on the plate and trade it out with the broccoli in the microwave, setting it on a minute. “What do you want to drink? I have water, milk, lemonade, and I still might have a couple of sodas.” I peer into the top shelf. “Yeah, they’re both regular, though, not diet.”

“Do you have any more beer?” she asks. “I don’t keep any in the house because of Simon, so I rarely get to have one. But I’ll only have
one
since I’m driving.”

A woman who actually likes beer. Be still my heart.

“Of course,” I say, twisting the cap off the amber bottle and pushing it across the bar. Her fingers graze mine as she takes it.

The microwave beeps, not giving me a chance to think about our momentary contact, so I get the steaming chicken out and scoop some of the broccoli onto the plate.

“Your dinner is served, madam,” I say with an extremely bad British accent and carry her plate into the living room, setting it next to mine on the coffee table. I know my food is cold by now, but I’m not all that hungry now anyway. I know I won’t be able to eat much with her sitting right here next to me.

“Thanks.” She laughs and sinks into the couch, grabbing her fork.

I pick up what’s left of my beer and carry it into the kitchen, finishing it off while grabbing another from the fridge. When I return, Devyn is washing down her first bite.