Every Glance (Every Life #3) (2 page)

“You do know your analogies get a little off course sometimes, right? I can’t understand half of what you’re getting at most of the time.” Stan chuckles and walks behind his wife’s desk to squeeze her shoulders. “But I agree with what I think you’re saying, anyway.”

She doesn’t say anything, but she smiles slightly and covers one of his hands with her own. Ella is waiting for me to concede, and I know she won’t stop glaring at me until I do.

So I do.

“I agree, too. I promise to keep it in mind, okay?” But that doesn’t mean I have any intentions with actually following through with it. Is she serious? She acts like it’s that easy. Find a nice girl who doesn’t find fault in everything I am or everything I do, convince her that I’m the kind of man she would be lucky to spend the rest of her life with, and then try not to screw all of that up for the next fifty or sixty years.

Yeah, piece of freaking cake.

“AWW! I LOVE your little porch! It’s just so cute!”

Yep. That’s what I was going for. Cute.

I descend the front steps to greet Kathryn halfway down the sidewalk. “Uh, thanks. It’s small, but I like to sit out here or on the back porch at night to wind down every once in a while.”

It’s a routine I picked up from my dad. That old wrought iron bench with the flaking red paint sat on their porch, and every evening, as long as the weather wasn’t doing anything extreme, he’d sit there for about fifteen minutes. Listening to the birds announcing the day’s end. Listening to the distinct cadence of a katydid’s love song. But most importantly, listening to nothing at all. No ringing phones, no crying children, no desperate pleas for unneeded medication. Yeah, my dad was a doctor, too. More accurately, a pediatrician. And a damn good one, at that. In the father department, however, he was severely lacking.

There wasn’t any time for playing catch or sitting down together to watch a football game. No, the only downtime we spent together was on that porch. In complete quiet. I didn’t understand the rule of silence at first, but my appreciation for it now is boundless. Something tells me that Chatty Kathy here would never get it.

“Well, it’s adorable, just like the house. Although, to be honest, I didn’t picture you living in a quaint, little country house. I pictured something more urban. Modern.”

She sounds disappointed. Surprise, surprise.

And after showing her around the inside of the house, I can sense the disapproval running just under the surface of her sugar-laced smile. Gone are the little crinkles that form on the bridge or her nose when her smile is genuine. Her tone is absent of its usual brightness and inflection. I know how a woman’s mind works. I’m fully aware that she expected a doctor to live more extravagantly. She came here tonight because she wanted to see if I live up to her expectations, to see if I could fit into the perfect little mold she had in mind for me.

Which is why I gave in when she wanted to come here tonight. I wanted to get proof of what I’d begun to suspect on our last date when she ordered a $200 bottle of wine at dinner. I have enough money to cover something like that on occasion, but it’s the principle. She didn’t consult me; she just ordered it, knowing I would pay for it. I don’t even like freaking wine. It’s basically rotten fruit juice.

Now, I’m not saying she’s a gold digger, but if the $1400 Jimmy Choo’s fit . . .

I’m just serving the spaghetti—the one dish I make that’s fit for human consumption—when my cell phone buzzes on the bar. “Excuse me just a moment, Kathryn.”

“Sure,” she sighs, clearly irritated that I’m taking a call during our date. It’s not like it could possibly be a medical emergency or anything.

“What the hell are cummerbunds?” Sawyer growls on the other end of the line before I can finish my greeting. Sawyer and Makenna got engaged several months ago, and as it inches closer and closer, he’s gets a little more frustrated.

“Uh, aren’t those the little fabric things that go around your waist?”

“Shit. Mak asked if I ordered those, and I told her I had. I thought she was talking about those little flowers that go on the jacket lapel. No wonder she looked at me like I was crazy when I told her we still needed pins for them.”

“Those are boutonnieres,” I explain.

“The pins?”

I chuckle at his complete lack of wedding vocabulary. That is, until I wonder why
I
have one. “No, the flowers. The pins are just . . . pins. And you didn’t order cummerbunds because you decided on vests. Remember?”

An unnaturally long exhale blows into the speaker at the same time one comes from my dining room table. Kathryn’s patience is wearing thin, and she’s not doing a good job of hiding it.

“I guess that’s why I chose you as my best man, huh? This whole wedding thing is causing some sort of temporary amnesia or something. I have no clue what’s going on anymore. Thanks for helping me keep my shit straight, D.”

“And all this time I thought you chose me because I look damn good in a suit.”

Sawyer’s laughter triggers my own. It’s kind of a joke between us. Back in high school, we were forced to wear suits to the graduation ceremony. I was so thin back then that my suit just hung from my shoulders. Sawyer said it looked like it was still on the hanger. Thank God I no longer look like Captain America
before
he was Captain America.

“Exactly,” Sawyer chuckles. “Hey, Mak and I are about to go over to the Fall Fest to hear the bands and eat an unhealthy amount of fried food. Wanna come along in case I get a blocked artery?”

My eyes dart over to Kathryn. I’d love to go, but I doubt she would. Which is exactly why I’m going to accept. “Can I bring my date along?”

“Sure. Jill?”

Sigh.
“Her name is Kathryn. We’ll meet you there in about twenty minutes.”

But if I’m right. It’ll just be me.

THERE’S NOTHING QUITE as perfect as the emergence of fall. The sound of the dry leaves rustling in the trees and crunching under your feet. The gentle breeze ushering in a slight chill, forcing you to pull your hooded sweatshirts from the back of your closet once again. It’s my favorite time of year.

Another thing I love about fall is being able to ride in my car with the windows rolled down, which isn’t something you do much of during the steamy Alabama summers. As the wind swirls around me, I fill both lungs with the earthy scent of it and enjoy its tender ribbons slipping through my hair. Too bad I don’t have Kathryn with me because I would’ve loved to hear her complain about the wind messing up her hair.

Not.

Just as I thought, as soon as I told her we’d be going out with Sawyer and Makenna to the Fall Fest, she started listing the reasons why she couldn’t go with us, and I’ve never been more relieved in my life. I knew from the beginning that she wasn’t my usual type, but I had hopes that getting outside of my comfort zone would be good for me. They say that opposites attract, after all. But in this case? Uh, no.

I pull into one of the last remaining parking spots outside of the road barricades near the town square. Colorful food tents of all sizes line one side of the street, and bluesy music ripples between the crush of festival goers. The combination of freshly made funnel cakes and the spinning lights of the Ferris wheel brings back a memory of Sawyer sneaking me out to my first county fair when we were fourteen, and a wide smile creeps onto my face.

“Where is she?” Makenna yells as soon as I kill the engine. I guess I was too wrapped up in my thoughts to notice them standing there.

“Who?” I love giving her a hard time.

“The girl! I thought you were bringing a girl!”

I lock my car and step onto the curb, pausing to kiss her cheek. “To the Fall Fest? Our town kinda frowns on transvestites, so I have to keep her all to myself for now.”

“Dalton. You’re a terrible liar.”

I chuckle at her scowl. It’s not the least bit intimidating, but she likes to think it is. “Actually, she opted not to come. And I have opted to not see her again.”

“What was it this time?” Sawyer’s heavy palm claps on my shoulder in a half hug.

I shrug. “She’s wine and charity galas, and I’m beer and campfires. Not a good combination.”

“Yeah,” he says, handing Mak her sweater, “I have to agree with you on that one.”

“Oh, come on, Dalton. There’s always some excuse. You need to give someone a chance. Just tell me what kind of girl you’re looking for, and maybe I can set you up with one of my friends.”

“Mak, I appreciate that. Really. But I’m not in any hurry to join you and Sawyer and Callie and Wes. I don’t have all that much time to put into a serious relationship right now, so I just want to keep things casual.” I have an uncontrollable urge to check the back of my shirt to see if there’s a sign tell people to give me relationship advice.

“Fine, but think about it. Okay?”

“You’ll be the first to know if I decide to take you up on the offer.”

We walk around for a while, stopping to taste the winning chili from the cook-off and throw some darts at a wall of balloons. I even take a couple of spins with Makenna around the makeshift dance floor in front of the band. We’re having a great time, and it’s nice to be able to let loose and hang out with friends every once in a while. Except for the fact that being one of the town’s doctors causes a bit of a hiccup every now and then.

So far tonight, I’ve removed a splinter, recommended an over-the-counter antihistamine, checked a sprained wrist, and scheduled an appointment for a complete blood count for Monday. I’m not really upset about it though. I was a little worried about the town embracing me—or even
trusting
me—as a physician, but they seem to be coming around more quickly than I expected. And I’m not even counting the Lonely Housewife Club.

“Come on, D. Help me win that fluffy stuffed dog for my girl. How hard can the ring toss game be?”

“Yeah, I’ll—”

“I have to get him down! He’s having an asthma attack!” A frantic woman yells at the Ferris wheel’s operator.

“Duty calls.” Sawyer jerks his head toward the scene unfolding. “Let’s see if we can help.”

I jog toward the small crowd in search of the woman, and it doesn’t take me long. Her screaming would rival a wild monkey.

“Ma’am, I’m Dr. Hoover. Is there something I can do?”

She spins around, and her hazel eyes are full of fear. Her bottom lip is quivering so hard that her words are beginning to lose their sharp edge. “The ride is stuck. I have to get him down.” She points toward the back side. The car he’s in is probably close to twenty feet from the ground. “Did you say he’s having an asthma attack?”

“Yes, but I forgot his inhaler! And this stupid carnie won’t let me climb up there to get him!”

I have to bite down on my smile in order to focus on resolving the issue instead of making her think I’m not taking her seriously. “Hey, man. How long before we can get this thing moving again?”

The “stupid carnie”—his grungy nametag says his name is really Jim—throws an arm in the air, revealing an armpit stain that would make any mother faint. “This chick is freaking out over nothin’. The maintenance guy is on his way over. We’ll have it up and runnin’ in about fifteen minutes or so.”

I look back at her in time to catch a tear stream out of her pleading eyes. She’s scared senseless, and because I can’t see the kid to know how hard he’s struggling, I have to treat it like it’s a life or death situation.

“I need him down
now.
This is a medical emergency.” I step backward and spin around, nearly smacking right into Sawyer. “Hey, man. Call the fire department and see if we can get a ladder over here pronto.”

“No, that’ll take too long. I have a better idea, though. Just a sec.”

While I’m telling Makenna to make sure someone has already called for an ambulance, Sawyer jogs over to the nearest food truck, and I know exactly what he has in mind. Damn, he’s a genius. Within seconds, he’s barking at the bystanders to give them some room, and the truck is rolling back toward the Ferris wheel, just under the boy’s car.

When it’s almost to a complete stop, I’m already on my way up the narrow ladder on the side. As soon as I reach the top, I realize I’m still not quite high enough. The bottom of the car is just above the top of my head, so the kid is going to have to jump down to me.