Page 63 of Wild For You

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It’slate evening when Erin returns. Dad accompanies her to the door, but doesn’t come in. I don’t head out to greet him, either.

He’s still angry with me.

Big deal. I’m angry with him, too.

Knowing my father, I know this one will blow over eventually, but he’ll probably watch me like a hawk now. Once a friend cheated him of fifty bucks, and Dad ended up holding a grudge for twenty years and counting.

I bet he only took Erin shopping because he wanted to talk to her. I can only hope he hasn’t given her an ear full of his opinions in the process.

But just to make sure he hasn’t put her off me for good, I’ve cooked us dinner.

A table for two is set in the dining room, and I’ve also lit candles on every surface, which gives the place a romantic touch. I’ve even persuaded Margaret to bake us an apple pie.

The house smells of barbecue, salad, and sweet crumbles.

“What’s this?” Erin asks with a frown.

My gaze takes her in, appreciating what it sees. “Take a guess? Want to take a shower before dinner?”

She nods warily as she peers from me to the candles.

“Just make it quick,” I instruct and leave for the kitchen.

She returns barely ten minutes later, her skin still damp, her sleeveless top molding to her body.

For a moment, we’re both quiet, eyeing each other, unsure what to expect.

“Take a seat.” I point needlessly at the table. She does as I bid and raises her hand to touch the flower bouquet.

“This looks nice. Are you expecting guests?”

“Just you.”

Her lips twitch, but there’s a glint of pleasure in her eyes. “Shouldn’t you have asked me first?”

“I thought it better to skip that part. I couldn’t risk you rejecting me.” I wink. “Why? Do you have another annoying patient you have to run off to?”

Her smile widens, her beauty striking.

I point to the lavender bouquet. “They are for you. I wish I could have handpicked them myself, but as you can see—” I point at my crutches and smirk.

“Those are my favorite flowers.”

“I know. Margaret told me,” I say softly. “I wish I could have picked them for you. On the bright side, though, I cooked.”

She peers at me, surprised. “You cooked?”

“Just for you.” I smile. “You bake. I cook. We’re both not half bad. I guess that’s a great combination.”

Erin falls silent for a moment as she leans forward to smell the lavender, her thoughts far away.

As if a fragment of her past has captured her.

I wish I knew what she was thinking.

“Erin?” I prompt.

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