The Heart - Kate Stewart Page 0,33

resident and weeks away from opening the center. That’s all that matters. I mean, what could he want from me? I don’t have time.” I was lying and the looks they were giving me told me they knew better.

“Exactly,” Jules said, giving Jamie a look that screamed shut the hell up.

It was becoming more apparent just how sheltered I’d become. I wasn’t sticking my neck out enough; therefore, I had nothing to be afraid of. I decided then it was fine with me. The finish line was close. I may have the worst luck imaginable when it came to personal relationships, but I would be the best damned surgeon in the state of Texas.

Jack

I listened to the jets whirl beneath me and felt absolutely nothing. Noticing the passengers around me board the plane with smiling faces, I realized I hadn’t felt even a hint of the excitement or satisfaction I normally did when I was beginning a new adventure. Frustrated, I tossed back my bourbon, savoring the taste and the burn. It was no big mystery why, either. My Aunt Nadine had pinpointed it last night when we met for dinner.

“This is new,” she said, staring down at her menu as I sat across from her, ignoring mine.

“What?” I asked, motioning to the waitress for two more drinks.

She laid down her menu, her detective skills coming out to play. She’d been the lead investigator in the city of New Orleans for the last thirty years alongside my Uncle Spencer, who held a seat as judge. She’d been the hardest parent to put anything over on. Well, that and the fact that she knew me better than most.

“You haven’t stuck to your two drink minimum. You’re agitated and morose. You pushed your trip back by another week. My guess is you’re holding out for something. Who is she?”

Throwing the rest of my drink back, I scooted back into my seat, ignoring the girl at the bar directly over my aunt’s shoulder who was trying far too hard to get my attention. It happened often, and I hated it.

“It was nothing. A flirtation that didn’t go well.” I knew better than to dismiss my aunt. She wasn’t buying it. Neither was I.

I adjusted myself again to avoid reciprocating the stares that came my way.

“Ignore them, talk to me. Tell me.”

When I’d unexpectedly gotten the first onslaught of female attention a few years after my last surgery, my Aunt Nadine had been the one to school me on how to handle it. I’d been locked inside my head for so long, I’d had no clue what to do with my new popularity. It was a nightmare for an introvert. Nadine was one of very few to have brought me out of my shell.

“I just told you,” I said as my agitation grew. “Did you ever stop to think we only have these dinners once a month so you’ll stop grilling me on my personal life?”

“You don’t have one,” she said, sitting up in her seat, her fists balled at the end of the table, a sure sign of a conversation I didn’t want to have. My Uncle Spencer had loved the fire he saw in her when they met. She was nineteen, and already out of college. According to him, she had been the hardest woman in the world to handle, and still was. He loved her more than life.

“I do fine,” I said in another attempt to close the subject.

“Oh, I have no doubt,” she said and turned to look behind her at the woman at the bar who’d put her best assets on display for me, “if you want them fast.”

“I’m thirty-seven years old. Aren’t I a little old for this talk?”

“Guess not,” she quipped back. “You’re still running around the globe like your ass is on fire.”

“I like to travel. Lots of adults do.”

“I said running.”

“Don’t,” I warned. “It was always my plan.”

“Fine, I’ll give you that. But how many times have you been to the Himalayas?”

I leaned forward as my temper flared. “Twice, this will be the third.”

“How about Australia?”

“Four.”

“Africa?”

“Six.”

“Greenland, Iceland, fucking Loch Ness?”

“Fine, point taken. My turn. Do you all get together on some conspiratorial level and decide what hard questions you want to ask?”

“Yes,” she said with her no bullshit tone.

“And they send you because, what, you’re the meanest?”

“Ouch,” she said in mock hurt. “Yes.”

“That only worked until I caught on,” I said, biting into the flavored ice in my drink. “I was seven.”

“Jack—” she started.

“Shit,” I