The Doctor's Christmas Wish. Renee Ryan
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He shot a questioning glance in Keely’s direction. “Is there enough for me?”
“Sure, why not?” Face as grim as her tone, she headed toward the kitchen without another word.
Hardly a warm invitation. But there was one thing Ethan had learned since Keely moved back to town and took over her family’s restaurant: She’d inherited her mother’s gift in the kitchen. He’d take whatever she was serving, with whatever prickly attitude she adopted. Her cooking was that good.
Flicka took his hand and dragged him deeper into the house. “I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again, ever, at least not for a few more days.”
He chuckled. “I’m your neighbor. Our paths will cross often, maybe every day.”
Keely made a soft sound of protest in her throat, barely audible, but Ethan caught it. “Got a problem with that?”
Her pause told its own story. But then she lifted a careless shoulder that didn’t ring true with her tight expression.
“Not at all.” She blessed him with a sugary sweet smile. “I enjoy your company, Dr. Scott.”
They both knew that wasn’t true, but Ethan decided to be an optimist this morning. Maybe he and Keely really could set aside their differences and become friends. Neighbors were supposed to be friendly, weren’t they? Wasn’t that the same as being friends?
Flicka carried the conversation while Ethan dug into a large stack of fluffy pancakes. He hadn’t shared breakfast with a single mother and her daughter in nearly two years.
Technically, he wasn’t doing so now. Flicka wasn’t Keely’s child. Still, he had to focus on his food, and the girl’s excited chatter, rather than the unease he felt. The cozy setting felt too familiar, a taste of the life he’d had and then lost so abruptly. Out of sheer survival, he shut his mind to everything but the plate of food in front of him.
Holding painful memories at bay was hard work. By the time he finished his pancakes he was exhausted. He needed to vacate the premises stat. Unfortunately, he’d only dealt with one of the reasons he’d made the short journey across their adjacent yards. He said goodbye to Flicka, included a promise to stop by soon, then asked Keely to walk him out.
At her challenging stare, he tried not to show his impatience. He wasn’t in the mood for one of their legendary arguments this morning. “I have something I need to run by you.”
“All right, fine.”
Once they were alone on the back stoop, he allowed himself a good long look at his neighbor. What he saw put him immediately on edge. She was especially beautiful in the morning light, her hair several warm shades of red, gold and copper.
She’d tamed the long strands in a sleek ponytail. The simple style highlighted her stunning features. Even with her face free of cosmetics, Ethan could easily picture her on the cover of a fashion magazine.
“What did you want to speak with me about?”
A muscle knotted in his chest at her wary tone. The progress they’d made last night was gone.
“First off,” he began as calmly as possible, “I didn’t come over to mooch breakfast, although I certainly enjoyed every bite. So, thanks.”
“Oh, uh...you’re welcome.”
Her faltering voice told him he’d caught her off guard, as if she didn’t expect a compliment from him, which made Ethan wonder why he didn’t do it more often. There were many things he liked about Keely. Her smile, her eyes, her quick wit, her smile, her...
What had he come over for again?
Thankfully, Keely filled the conversational void. “You were right, by the way.”
He felt his eyebrows travel toward his hairline. “Although I never tire of hearing that, especially from you, it’s so rare. But I’m one step behind. What was I right about?”
She made a face. “Felicity’s stomachache. It was definitely brought on by stress. Her recovery started almost immediately after I told her she didn’t have to start school today.”
The comment brought him to the other reason for his visit.
“I’d like you to bring her into the office for a complete exam.” Last night had been an emergency, but Ethan didn’t normally treat patients unless he knew their history. “I assume you have access to her medical records.”
She nodded. “The school required them for enrollment.”
“Bring them with you to her appointment.”
“Okay. Ethan, I...” She hesitated, clearly debating whether to argue the point.
He cut her off before she could begin. They were in his wheelhouse now. “Keely, the child needs a primary care physician.”
“You’re right, of course.” She gave him a firm nod. “I’ll call the office later today and make an appointment.”
“Good.” They were on the same page.
“But I think it would be best if I made it with one of the other doctors in your practice.”
“Why not me?”
“I... It’s hard to explain.”
“Try.”
She dropped her gaze and sighed again, softer this time. “I guess it’s because we’re neighbors. It could get awkward.”
Nearly everything about their relationship was awkward. But this wasn’t about them. Or was it?
“Is it because of what happened at the Young Professionals mixer last year?”
“Of course not.”
The response came too quickly. He lifted a single eyebrow.
“All right, yes,” she admitted. “It’s partly the reason.”
Something inside him went ice-cold. “You’re still holding that against me?”
Her gaze snapped with familiar annoyance. “You embarrassed me in front of Parker Thorpe and two of his associates.”
Of course he’d stepped in. For good reason. “The guy was married.”
“And that matters why?”
“Married,” he reiterated.
“Parker and I were just talking.” She huffed out the words in obvious frustration.
Ethan resisted the urge to hiss out his own frustration. He and Keely had done this dance too many times to count in the past year.
Yet, no matter how he explained his side of the argument, the woman refused to believe he’d actually been looking out for her. At the time of the mixer, she’d been new to town and had no idea what kind of guy Parker really was beneath the dentist-enhanced smile and hundred-dollar haircut.
“Look, I’m not saying the conversation wasn’t innocent, at least on your end.” He held her stare. “But it wasn’t on his.”
“You can’t possibly know that for certain.”
“Parker Thorpe is, was and always will be a player.”
“As I recall, you said the same thing about Kenny Noble.”
Ethan frowned at the reminder. “Kenny was eighteen. And you were twelve.”
“I was thirteen. And, besides, I was just talking to him.”
“You were still too young to be hanging out with a senior in high school. You were only twelve.”
“Thirteen,” she corrected again, this time with an exaggerated eye roll. “There was no need to tell him how old I was—”
“I beg to differ.”