he could research them.
“You have to conserve them,” he said firmly. “Cut them in half, if they’re tablets, and take them only every other day or even more spread out than that. Make them last as long as you can. Same with food, same with everything.” God, some medications weren’t made to be halved, but desperate times, desperate measures.
Her eyes got wide, and he saw some dawning of comprehension that they needed to assume the worst. She slowly nodded. “I understand. There are some people here in the valley who know about herbs and things, I can probably handle my blood pressure that way.”
“Good idea,” he said. “I’ll check back by every now and then. You folks take care. C’mon, dog.” He and the pup started back the way they’d come, though the dog was reluctant to leave the smell of cooking meat. Thank God he didn’t run into any of the neighbors as they walked away from the Livingstons’ house. His well of social chat had just run dry.
He and the dog reached the highway and made their way down it to Sela’s neighborhood. There were more people walking the highway than he’d expected, and he was taken aback when several people waved and called out hellos. He didn’t recognize them, so how the hell did they think they knew him? Then again, for the past few years he’d made a practice of not looking directly at people so they wouldn’t try to talk to him, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t been looking him over. It was something of a shock, scraping uncomfortably on his nerves, to realize that a lot of people in the valley would know him by sight.
He returned the waves, but kept walking. God save him from friendly people. What the hell was wrong with them?
When he reached Sela’s side road he realized he’d assumed she’d be at her own house, but in reality she could be anywhere. The two most likely choices, though, were her house and her aunt’s house. He passed the yellow two-story she’d said belonged to her aunt but didn’t stop, because he didn’t want to deal with any extra people; he’d had enough for the day, about all he could stand. If she wasn’t at her house, he’d go back to the mountain.
But she was there; he saw her sitting on the screened porch. When she spotted him, she laid aside the book she was reading and stood. The pup barked in greeting and tried to bound forward, to be thwarted by his grip on the leash.
Walking across her yard, though, didn’t fill him with dread. Somehow talking to her was different, as if the night they’d watched the aurora together had gotten him past that stage with her. Maybe seeing the outline of her breasts had something to do with it, he thought with a tinge of amusement. Amusement. It had been a long time since he’d been amused by anything, much less himself.
“You have a dog!” she said as she opened the screen door, smiling down at the pup.
A quick glance told him she was wearing a bra, which was both a relief and a disappointment. At least he wouldn’t have to fight to keep his mind on the conversation, but damn, he missed the view. “He wandered up; he’d either gotten lost or been abandoned.”
She opened the door wider. “Come on in, and bring him, too. I’ll get him some water. Do you want some tea?” She gestured to the half-full glass sitting beside her open book. “I have some fresh sun tea.”
He hadn’t acquired the Southern taste for sweet tea, but he said, “Thanks. I’ll keep him here on the porch, though. I’m not sure of his manners in a strange place.” Plus going inside her house was something he was reluctant to do, though he couldn’t say why.
“I’ll be right back.”
He watched as she went inside, and yeah, he noticed the way her jeans cupped her ass. Her dark hair was in a ponytail, and she was wearing a red T-shirt. No shoes. He’d never seen her dressed to attract attention; for the most part, she seemed to be content to be under the radar.
She came back out with a glass of tea in one hand and a bowl of water in the other. He took the glass and she set the bowl down on the porch for the dog, who began lapping as thirstily as if he hadn’t had plenty to drink from