Page 55 of Just The Way You Aren't

I step onto the elevator and push the button. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not him."

Alfred takes a step toward the elevator, but the doors close before he can reach me.

I grin at his apoplectic face and give him a one-fingered salute just as the doors close their last inch.

The new SilverHearts van sits outside Mrs. Baumgartner’s house. When I step out of my Mercedes, Willow hops out of the van. Her smile calms and excites me at the same time. Yes, this is just what I need.

“Willow, thank you for letting me go on your rounds with you. I know it was short notice,” I say.

She smiles widely at me. “I’m actually glad for the company. And Mrs. Baumgartner misses you terribly.”

I laugh. “Oh, does she? I’m sure Irving doesn’t.”

“You’re growing on him.” She takes my hand. Warmth spreads all the way up my arm and into my chest. I try not to examine the feeling too closely.

“I should probably put my suit jacket in the van if I’m going to be helpful.”

Willow grins. “Not a chance. Mrs. Baumgartner wants to see you in your full CEO regalia one of these days.”

“Regalia?” I wrinkle my nose. “It’s just a suit.”

She gives me an appreciative once-over. “Tell that to any woman looking at you in it.”

I chuckle, but damn if that saucy look on Willow’s face doesn’t shoot straight to my cock. “All right, no need to flatter me. If she wants to see me in the damn suit, she can see me in the damn suit.”

“Great!” Willow tugs me up the front stairs of Doris’s house.

Doris answers the door in a floral dress from another era and full make-up. Thankfully, she still has her oxygen under her nose. “Damien!” she says, holding out her hands.

“Hello, Doris.” I reluctantly let go of Willow’s hand in order to take the one Mrs. Baumgartner thrusts at me, palm down. I take the cue and drop a chaste kiss to her wrinkled skin. “You look especially beautiful today.”

She giggles like a schoolgirl as Willow goes to get her meals. “Thanks, handsome. Not too shabby yourself.”

I wink at her. “Now, don’t let Irving get the wrong idea about us. I know he’s calling soon.”

Her smile falters a bit. “Oh, not today. Irving’s in the hospital. It’s his asthma, poor dear. His granddaughter brought a cat into the house and, well…”

“Ah. I’m sure he’ll be fine,” I reassure her as I escort her back into her house and to the sofa where there is far less strain on her oxygen tubing.

Willow comes in soon afterward and sees me sitting with Doris while she sniffles and dabs her eyes with a wadded-up Kleenex. “What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Irving’s in the hospital. Asthma attack,” I explain.

“Oh no!” Willow comes to sit by us, pulling a clean tissueout of her pocket. “Here, Mrs. Baumgartner. It looks like that one’s used up.”

Doris smiles sadly and takes the tissue. “Thank you, Willow. You’re such a dear. You’re both such dears. You remind me of me and my beloved Charlie.”

Charlie? I wonder to myself.

“Her husband. He died many years ago,” Willow says quietly.

Doris nods. “He was a good man. Not as funny as Irving, but solid. Gruff, but kind. He seemed like a big old grizzly bear, but inside he was really just a teddy bear.” She pats the back of my hand. “Like you.”

My brows rise. “Do I seem like a big old grizzly bear?” I ask, looking at Willow.

The two women join in shared laughter.

“Oh, Damien. You are delightful.” Doris gets a wistful expression on her face. “My Charlie was the only one at the USO dance who none of the girls would dance with. He was all frowns, big and burly, and he had his arms crossed from the minute he arrived. He just glared at all of the dancers. I think he was only there because of his buddies. But they were all dancing. I saw him sitting alone there, and, being the bold, modern woman I was in those days, I walked right up to him and I said, ‘Sir, I’d like to dance with you.’”

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