Dr. Hot Stuff - Tawna Fenske Page 0,20
It’s been so long since I’ve been to one that I’ve forgotten what it’s like.”
“No problem.” I put away the milk and ice cream and set the rest of the stuff on the counter before opening a cupboard above the dishwasher. “I’ll even put it in a glass if you promise to leave a tip.”
“Deal.” She watches me pour, her expression a bit wistful. “Today would have been our five-year dating anniversary.”
I don’t have to ask who she means. “Has he caught up on child support?”
“Of course not. He claims he’s between jobs.”
Her ex-husband lives in a Manhattan penthouse with a trust fund big enough to outfit a small army. The fact that I haven’t killed him yet is a testament to my self-restraint. “I’m sorry.” I sit down on the stool next to hers and push a glass in front of her. “Want me to have him murdered? I know some Special Forces guys who’d do it discreetly.”
“That would be nice.” She takes a slow sip of cider and sighs. “I don’t miss him,” she says. “Not even a tiny bit. But I miss the guy I thought he was. The one who swept me off my feet in college and gushed about ‘blending our lives together’ when we got married.”
I would personally like to put Eric’s hands in a blender and hit pulse, but that’s not what my sister needs right now. “At least you got Jordan out of the deal. Not that it negates all the shit he put you through.”
“She is pretty great.” She gives me a wobbly smile and takes a sip of cider. “Tell me about your new girlfriend.”
I sigh and take a swig of my drink. “I take it you talked to Mom?”
Julia grins wider. “She said you were making out in the barnyard like teenagers.”
“Wonderful.” I’ll never live this down.
“Oh, and Mom really likes Izzy. Said she’s pretty great.”
“She is pretty great.” I refuse to comment on the making out bit. “She says it’s not going anywhere, though. That she’s going back to her home country.”
“Huh.” She looks thoughtful as she spins her glass on the counter. “You think it’s a brush-off?”
“Could be.” I don’t want to be an egotistical jerk who thinks a beautiful woman couldn’t possibly shoot him down for any reason beyond geographic incompatibility. “I’ve been crushing on her a long time.”
I’m not sure why I just admitted that, but Julia doesn’t look surprised. “She’s the one you rescued at Bree Bracelyn’s wedding?”
“I wouldn’t say rescued.” Yeah, I recognized the signs of kidney failure and did basic triage before escorting her to the hospital and sticking around for the first few hours of her care. “She’s not my patient, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“That’s not what I’m getting at, actually.” She takes another sip of cider, considering me. Then she changes the subject. “How’s Mom?”
“Weird segue.” There’s concern in Julia’s eyes though, so I let that drop. “She seems good. Have you not seen her lately or something?”
“I just saw her yesterday, but I wanted your take on it.” She shrugs. “I think she might be lonely.”
Guilt washes through me as I try to recall the last time I dropped by before today. “We had brunch a few days ago, and I went over last weekend to replace some of those lights in the foyer.” That used to be my father’s job, since Mom’s not a fan of crawling up a ladder. Bitterness trickles up my throat, and I swallow it back. “Maybe I’ll invite her to lunch. She loves that Dungeness crab risotto Sean Bracelyn makes at Ponderosa Resort.”
Julia’s smile leaves little doubt she sees right through me. “And you’ll just happen to visit Izzy while you’re there?”
“You calling me a self-serving jerk?”
She grins wider. “I’m calling you clever,” she says. “And a little evil.”
“That’s Dr. Evil to you.” I take a sip of cider, still fretting about my mother. “You think she needs someone living there? A full-time ranch hand or something?”
Julia cocks her head. “You volunteering?”
“If I have to.” Not that I’m eager to live with my mother, but if she needs me—
“Maybe she’s ready to start dating again,” Julia muses. “Someone kind and sweet and financially secure.”
I cock an eyebrow at her as I lift my glass. “Because marriage worked out so well for her the first time?”
“She got us, didn’t she?” The hopeful lilt on the last word lets me know she recognizes her words as an echo of mine just moments ago.