would begin. “Have a great day, Sage.” He kissed her briefly, then walked from the room. He didn’t even try to stop the happy whistle that blew through his lips as he climbed down the front stairs.
“There is no way I’m going to that ranch for Thanksgiving dinner.”
Sage sat at her grandmother’s table with her lips pursed in frustration. Her grandma always cooked Thanksgiving dinner. It was tradition. Eileen always joined them, and they ate a scrumptious meal, then watched the football game on TV. That’s what they did. Always.
“I’m sorry, darling. I just haven’t been feeling well enough to cook a big holiday meal this year, and when Martin invited us over, I just . . .”
Sage instantly felt like the most horrible person on the planet. “I’m sorry, Grandma. I didn’t know you weren’t feeling well again. I can cook—okay, I can try, at least. I’m sure it wouldn’t be that bad.”
She couldn’t go to the Whitman place. No way. She’d managed to avoid Spence last night, since he’d first been in surgery and then she’d been in a roomful of people when he’d emerged from the OR. Thankfully, he didn’t attempt to kiss her in front of the rest of the hospital staff. That would have been mortifying.
Now, if he’d pulled her into one of the on-call rooms, slowly stripped . . . No! When had her mind started dwelling in the gutter? She’d been a straight-A student. She was controlled. Cautious. Responsible. Unlike so many others, she didn’t have affairs in on-call rooms. That wasn’t who she was. She’d screwed up in his hot tub, but no one was perfect. Still, she tried.
Why she was thinking about sex more than she was thinking about surgery was beyond her. She must be losing her mind. Maybe it was Montana. Probably something in the water. The population was so sparse, and because there weren’t enough people around, the politicians were secretly drugging their water with aphrodisiacs, making everyone want to mate and bring children into the world.
No! No! No! She would not think about children and Spence—and aphrodisiacs—at the same time. This was getting out of hand. She had to pull herself together. She was strong, dang it!
“I guess we could just stay home and have leftovers. I’ll have to break it to Eileen. She was really looking forward to spending the evening with Martin. I think there may be something going on between the two of them. They’ve been making googly eyes at each other for months now, but neither one wants to admit they have feelings. Oh, yes, Thanksgiving . . . Grace also said she wanted to come with us. You know she’s had a mighty heavy crush on Camden for a long time, and she’d never go without you, but I understand . . .”
Sage didn’t think it was possible, but she now felt even lower than low. How could she live with herself when she was clearly such a worthless human being? Because she was afraid to be in the same house as Spence, she was going to deprive everyone else of a happy holiday. They might as well call her the Thanksgiving Grinch and get her a green costume—no, make it in harvest colors—and a big bag to steal all the pies and all the paper turkeys and Pilgrim decorations while she was at it.
“I’m sorry, Grandma. I just wanted to have you and Aunt Eileen and Grace all to myself, but if you want to go out there for Thanksgiving, I’m sure that would be fine. I’d better call the hospital and double-check that they won’t need me, though. I’m sure if they do, I can at least drive you out to the Whitmans’ first,” she said, feeling inspired.
She’d just volunteer, whether they needed her or not. That would solve everything. Everyone would then have a great Thanksgiving, including her. Lonely, but great.
“You can’t work on Thanksgiving, sweetheart. You already have the day off. I called the hospital to verify before I made any plans. They don’t put any elective surgeries on the board on the holidays and they already have an on-call doctor set up for emergencies, so you’re free. I’m so happy. This will be a beautiful holiday.” Bethel had perked up as she spoke.
Sage knew when she was beaten. It looked like she was going to have to put her acting skills to the test.
“I’d better get to making the pies,” Bethel said. “After all, Thanksgiving is tomorrow.”