Page 128 of Doctorshipped
“Oh, yeah,” Trevor says. “They have to give her their impressions, and do that whole squealing thing over Jayme being in a relationship. Give them a bit. They’ll be back.”
A few moments later squeals come from the kitchen as predicted. I shake my head. The guys all break into laughter.
“That’s a good sign for you,” Duke says. “You got the squeal.”
The night winds down. I walk Jayme out to her car and kiss her. It’s not a kiss like we share when we’re alone in my home. We’re aware we have an audience, but it’s hard to restrain myself with her, even knowing we’re being watched.
“When will I see you again?”
“I’ve got to buckle down and write tomorrow. But I can come early Monday before tutoring.”
“Can you stay for dinner?”
“Sure.”
“And after dinner?”
She giggles. “I’m free. I’ll stay past Fiona’s bedtime.”
I make some calculated moves with my eyebrows and she giggles.
“Stop the eyebrow seduction techniques. I’m already staying after bedtime.”
“Just making sure you have enough incentive.”
I hold Jayme’s door for her. She buckles up and turns the key. I watch her drive away, then I ride home with a smile on my face. A smile. I still can’t get over the number of smiles she draws out of me regularly.
* * *
Fiona leftfor school this morning toting an obnoxiously large project for her history class made completely from corn—corn peels, that hair from the corn, and the kernels. Or whatever all that is called. I saw patients all morning, and then I plan to do a follow up house-call. I hope to make it back in time to see Jayme before Fiona comes home.
I’ve figured out a system better than the CLOSED sign. All I need to do is mention to my morning appointments that I’ll be out doing calls in the afternoon, and somehow, no one shows up after lunch. I discovered this technique entirely by accident. Thanks to the town rumor mill, it’s the most efficient method I’ve ever implemented for informing patients of my availability—even more effective than when I had a full office staff, website, and scheduler in St. Louis.
I’m eating lunch and reading a book. Yes. It’s book two in Jayme’s vampire series. And, yes. She knows I’m reading it.
There’s a knock at the door, which is odd, considering my use of the local chin-wagging to spread word of my plans to close the office for the afternoon.
Nothing could have prepared me for what I see when I open the door. All the blood in my body seems to drain to my feet and my heart rate speeds up. I feel lightheaded. My face instinctively becomes a mask of neutrality.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Hello, Grant,” she says.
“Answer the question, Margot.”
She pauses and then she says, “I’m here to see my daughter.”
I stare at Margot, as if facing a phantom. She may as well be back from the dead. How did she find us?
I fold my arms over my chest and look at her. She stands on the porch, obviously waiting for me to absorb the shock of her arrival. Of course she’s unruffled, but she’s not the one caught off guard here.
“How did you find us?”
“I asked Jennifer.”
“Jennifer.” My old receptionist.
“She was the logical person. Your father wouldn’t have given me anything.”
