Page 32 of The Choices I've Made
“Have you been sleeping? You look exhausted.”
“Thanks.” I laughed. “You look pretty special yourself.”
“You know what I mean,” she said, placing a hand on her hip as she continued her relentless inventory of the kitchen.
“I do, and I’m managing. It’s just been a lot.”
Her eyes softened. “I know. But you don’t need to take the brunt of everything on yourself. You can ask for help. It doesn’t mean you’re weak.”
“I know, and I have. Mr. Lovell went out for supplies yesterday.”
“Good,” she replied. “That’s good. He and his wife have always been like family.”
Smiling, I nodded. “I know.”
She could see my attention was wavering as I began my mental list of everything that needed to be done. Linens had to be washed, the floors were due for a serious cleaning, and I couldn’t forget about the gardening.
“Okay, sweetheart, I’m going to trust you have everything under control.”
“I do.”
She didn’t look convinced as she continued, “And you’ll let me know if you need anything? Remember, we’re only—”
“A phone call away. I got it.”
Her eyes lingered on mine. The big, concerned eyes of a mother. I was about to reassure her once again. Anything to get her out of my kitchen.
Until I saw her gaze shift and her eyes widen as heavy footsteps sounded behind me.
The night before came back with a vengeance.
My drunk ex showing up at my door. The way he’d stumbled in like he lived here, begging for a place to stay.
The anger.
The heat.
The vomit.
“Good morning, Mrs. McIntyre,” Jake said casually as my mother’s mouth fell open.
“Good morning, Jake. Or is it Dr. Jameson now? Long time no see.” Her words were sweet as sugar, but the steely glare she shot me was anything but.
“Just Jake is fine. Sorry to interrupt,” he said, obviously noticing the tension between us. “Thought I could sneak in the kitchen, undetected. I just wanted to grab a quick cup of coffee before I headed into town.”
“Of course. Help yourself.”
I finally turned toward him. The slight swivel of my hips felt like a monumental task. The moment my eyes met his, I felt a lump in my throat too big to swallow.
No wonder my mom was frozen in place.
As both of us watched the hot mess of a man head toward the coffee pot, I felt my eyes lingering over every inch. Every naked inch. He was dressed in only a thin pair of boxer shorts, and I could see every hard line of his stomach, the curve of his hips, and every mesmerizing inch of his broad shoulders.
Good God, he’d aged well.
I blinked, realizing my blatant gawking and how incredibly inappropriate it was.
“Jake is staying here while he gets set up at the clinic,” I said swiftly, feeling less like the savvy engaged businesswoman I was and more like a guilty teen getting caught with a boy in her room.
