Dedication
To the staff, nurses and doctors of St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital. You do extraordinary work and allow parents to focus on their children without any outside worries. You have our sincere gratitude and utmost respect forever.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Acknowledgments
Sweet Talkin’ Lover
About the Author
Also by Tracey Livesay
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter One
Dr. Nicole Allen leaned back on the lounger and let the sun warm her bikini-clad body. Clouds dotted the blue sky, and though her lounger occupied prime real estate next to a pool, she could still hear the crashing of the waves fifty yards away on the beach.
She exhaled and every inch of her body, from the top of her curly bun to the tips of her bright orange-painted toes, gave in to gravity and relaxed into the chaise. Two days into their four-day vacay and she’d finally relegated all thoughts of surgeries, the hospital, and her upcoming fellowship from her mind.
Well, okay, they were still on her mind, just simmering. On the back burner.
It was the best she could do. Her work was never far from her thoughts. She lived, ate, slept, and fucked medicine. She was a doctor. And not just any doctor. An orthopedic surgeon. She’d worked hard for the coveted status, was unashamed to admit it defined who she was. But the privilege came with heavy responsibilities and not a day passed where she wasn’t mulling over a possible diagnosis or upcoming surgical procedure.
Which is why she needed this vacation and, more importantly, time with her girls.
The soft whoosh of the sliding glass door—leading from the four-story beach house where they were staying—sounded behind her.
“There you are!” Caila Harris strode into Nic’s line of sight, lovely in a bright yellow coverup that looked striking against her dark skin. “Did you enjoy your massage?”
“It was amazing. I haven’t had one since our last vacay.” It was a luxury Nic couldn’t afford to spend money on more than once a year. “How was yours?”
“Magical. And essential. Last month I traveled back and forth between Virginia and Chicago four times!”
Even so, Caila had seemed more tranquil than usual. She still worked hard, climbing her way to the top of the corporate ladder, but she looked happier than she had during their vacation last year. Caila would probably attribute it to meeting the love of her life seven months earlier.
“Did you just finish?” Nic asked, shifting in her seat.
She and Caila had started their massages at the same time but Nic had been done for a while. She’d appreciated the downtime. Caila tended to stuff as much as possible into the vacays she coordinated.
“I finished right after you, but Wyatt called. I was talking to him.”
The aforementioned happy-maker.
Caila’s beloved grandfather passed away last year, leaving her grief-stricken and distraught. She’d made some mistakes at work, and, to avoid losing her job, had agreed to be sent to a small town in Virginia to close down a factory that happened to be the town’s biggest employer. In the midst of the chaos, she’d fallen in love with the town’s mayor, whose family was practically Southern royalty. She kept her job, got a promotion, and landed herself the man.
Leave it to Caila to overachieve when it came to finding love, too.
“Aren’t you glad we still did this?” Caila asked.
Nic lazily rolled her head to the right to see her friend lifting her face to the sun, her arms outstretched to the side. Just to be obstinate, she wanted to disagree with her, but she couldn’t.
“Maybe,” she said, one corner of her mouth lifting at her slight accession. “How’s work?”
Caila slid out of her sandals. “It’s going well. We’ve completed modernizing the factory in Bradleton. By the middle of January, we’ll be able to manufacture products in-house.”
All of her friends were smart, successful go-getters. They’d followed different paths after their time together in college: Caila had attended business school and been offered a job with a Fortune 100 company, Ava had gone to law school, and Lacey had pursued her dream career in dance. But of her three friends, Caila was the most like her. Both were driven by this internal need to succeed that no one else understood.
That similarity was also the reason why they always seemed to clash.
“And you and Wyatt?”
Caila lowered herself to the edge of the pool and slipped her feet into the water. “I wasn’t sure how we were going to make it work, I just knew I wanted to. But it’s been wonderful. It’s exceeded all of my expectations.”
She couldn’t deny the happiness she saw shining in Caila’s eyes or heard in her voice, but Nic wasn’t sure she believed her. Caila’s job had been her life. Climbing the corporate ladder had excited her more than any relationship. Which is why she and Caila had always been on the same page regarding their life philosophies: careers before dears. Now she’d changed? Just like that? How could she continue pursuing her goal with that same single-minded focus if that time was now eaten up by a man?
Before Nic could voice her question, laughter alerted her to the fact that Ava and Lacey had finished their massages. When they cleared the foliage, Nic’s eyes widened and she pointed at Ava’s head.
“What is that?”
Ava Taylor touched the brim of her straw hat. “It’s to keep the sun out of my face. You know all this brownness doesn’t need to tan.”
Nic and Caila shared a glance.
“And what look were you going for?” Caila asked.
“Oh come on,” Ava said, jamming her fists on her shapely hips. “You’ve seen this look before. Women wear it at the beach all of the time. I’m trying it out for tomorrow.”
Nic shot a look at Lacey. “You let your friend come out of the house wearing that?”
Lacey, her tall, lithe dancer’s body showcased to perfection in an emerald green one-piece, held up her hands. “Don’t blame me. I sent her the link to the one she said she wanted.”
“It was four hundred dollars! I wanted Jennifer Lopez’s hat. I don’t have her money.”
Nic motioned to Ava’s studded sandals. “How much did you spend on those?”
“That’s different. These are Valentino.”
Caila brought a fist to her mouth, as if covering a cough. “So you were going for the J.Lo floppy hat look, circa 2002?”
“Exactly!”
Nic capitulated in her own struggle not to laugh. “Unfortunately, you ended up with the Miss Celie hat look, circa The Color Purple.”
Ava narrowed her brown eyes. “I did not!”
Nic pulled out her phone, did a quick google search, and showed Ava a still from the movie. Then she efficiently engaged her camera app, took her friend’s photo, and showe
d her the screen.
“Dammit!” Ava muttered, tugging the offending item off her head and tossing it onto the nearby table.
“It needs to be more than straw to be fashionable,” Caila said. “It should be big and actually floppy. What you’re wearing is just sad.”
“Screw all three of you.” Ava plopped down on a lounger situated beneath artfully planted palm trees. “I’m claiming the best full-coverage spot under the umbrellas when we head to the beach.”
“We’ll get a cabana,” Caila said. “That way, we won’t take any chances. ’Cuz I don’t do the sun, either.”
Lacey shook her head from her spot next to Caila on the edge of the pool. “Nic and I weren’t blessed with your melanin. We need to lie out. Plus, cabanas are too big and they block the view. How are we supposed to see the men?”
Nic pursed her lips. “What men?”
Nic hadn’t seen anyone worth her time, though to be fair, she hadn’t been looking. She wasn’t opposed to a vacation fling, but the timing wasn’t right. She was two months away from finishing up her residency and starting her fellowship.
“Remember that guy from the club last night?” Lacey asked.
Nic scoffed. “That one? He was alright.”
“His friend was cute,” Ava said.
Nic jerked her head back. “The one with the chicken legs?”
Lacey raised her brows. “Ava wasn’t looking at his legs . . . unless you count the third one that was visible through his too-tight pants.”
They all winced in unison.
“Speaking of hot guys . . .” Ava scooted closer and lowered her voice. “Did you have Randall for your massage?”
“I had Holly,” Caila said.
Ava pointed to Nic. “So you had him?”
“Uh-huh.”
“How was he?”
Nic shrugged. “He was good. Why?”
Ava sighed. “I don’t know. I mean, I wasn’t sure if he was giving me a massage or courting me.”
“What are you talking about?”
Lacey shook her head. “Don’t encourage her nonsense.”
“It’s not nonsense! When I got a massage a few months ago, the therapist didn’t have a need to entwine his fingers with mine, like we were holding hands.”
Nic sat up. “He massaged my palms, but I can’t say it was anything like holding hands.”
“See? What did I tell you?” Ava shot at Lacey. “Then he did this move where he rolled me back and forth on the table and everything was jiggling.”
Ava shimmied for them to underscore her point that she did, indeed, have curves aplenty.
Nic waved her hand dismissively. “They do that to make sure you’re truly relaxed and that all of the tension is out of your body. He did that to me when I was facedown, too.”
Ava tilted her head knowingly. “I wasn’t facedown.”
It took a second for the meaning to sink in but when it did, they all burst out laughing.
Nic admired the smiling faces around her. She could count on one hand the number of people she’d trust with her life and these women would claim three of those fingers. She’d met them their first year of college at the University of Virginia. While everyone else seemed to have their shit together, Nic felt out of place from the moment she’d arrived. It was so different from the small city in western Tennessee where she’d grown up. Her roommate had been from a wealthy Georgia family. Shelby and her friends had swept into the dorm in their pearl stud earrings and floral fit and flare dresses, tongues dripping with sweet Southern accents and malicious gazes that swept over her and found her wanting.
It had taken every ounce of self-control Nic had possessed not to hide her big-box store bedspread and the worn-out suitcase and nonmatching duffel bag that held all of her belongings. Shelby had talked of little else but partying and pledging Tri-Delt, whatever that was. All dreams Nic had of finally finding “her tribe” had vanished.
One afternoon, she’d headed down to the dorm’s TV lounge to watch Oprah. It had become a ritual she and her mom performed, their brief moment to catch up after Nic came home from school but before her mother left to start her second job. Nic had sprinted, not walked, away from her home and her past, so she hadn’t expected to crave anything that reminded her of there. But she had. And in doing so, she’d met three other girls who’d been trying to carve out their own little space in their new environment. They’d become best friends, and the following fall, when they had a choice in their housing, they’d decided to room together. They’d remained close all four years and during that time, they’d managed to become as important to her as if they were family.
Nic wrapped her arms around her raised knees. “I appreciate y’all agreeing to an earlier and shorter vacay this year and one close to me.”
With her residency wrapping up, studying for and taking her boards and her fellowship starting in August, Nic couldn’t afford as much time off this year. Additionally, the added bonus of being in the Outer Banks meant driving instead of flying, which saved money and allowed her to detour to her future home in Durham and look at apartments on her way back to Baltimore.
“Anytime,” Caila said. “Days of vacay, places of vacay, all negotiable. Missing a vacay isn’t.”
Two years after they’d graduated from college, Caila had been sent on a weeklong work trip in Florida and given a bungalow on the beach. She’d invited Nic, Ava, and Lacey to come down and stay with her and thus their annual vacay had been born. It was cherished time they never missed.
“Caila, make sure you thank Wyatt for us. Arranging all of this”—Ava gestured to the house—“and the morning of pampering was very nice of him.”
Lacey nodded. “He’s a keeper.”
Nic frowned at her. “Because he’s letting us use this house and he paid for some massages?”
“Don’t forget the mani-pedis,” Ava piped in.
“Shouldn’t we see if he treats Caila well, before we, I don’t know, pimp her out for future vacays?” Nic crossed her arms.
Caila smiled. “Your concern touches me, Nic. But don’t worry. He’s wonderful. And I’ll pass on your gratitude, Ava. Wyatt was happy to do it. Said it would be his way to introduce himself to my friends. He knows how important you are to me and he’s a fan of big gestures.”
“Is he now?” Ava smiled. “Anything else big about him?”
“Oh yeah,” Caila said, a smile teasing her lips. She tapped a spot halfway down her thigh.
“Damn,” Lacey whispered.
Caila nodded. “Girl, yes! He has this big mole, right here and—”
Lacey threw a pillow at Caila.
Caila dodged it, her tongue between her teeth. “That’s what you get for being nosy.”
“Ms. Harris.” A woman strode from the house and set a pitcher of water and sliced citrus fruit on the patio table. “The chef wanted to know what time he should serve dinner?”
Caila looked around. “Seven thirty?”
They all nodded and the woman smiled and left them.
After everyone had their drink, Ava lifted her glass. “To the Ladies of Lefevre and a great vacay,” she said, referring to the name they’d given themselves based on the dorm where they’d met.
“And to Dr. Allen, starting her fellowship,” Lacey added.
Pride and happiness swelled in Nic’s chest. “Dr. Allen. I’ll never get tired of hearing that.”
That title, and about two hundred grand in student loans, were the only things she could claim at the moment.
“You shouldn’t. You worked hard for it.”
“You’ve been in school forever,” Caila said, flicking the water with her foot. “You’ve already done nine additional years past college. I know you’re paid during your residency, but with your student loans, it has to be tough. You’re officially a doctor. You could start earning money now. Why do a fellowship?”
“The field I want to go into is very specialized.”
“Orthopedic sports medici
ne, right?”
Nic nodded. “An orthopedic sports medicine surgeon.”
It was a tough discipline and one of the top paying. Unfortunately, it was extremely male dominated, with the lowest percentage of women—about four percent—participating.
“You’re a tiny little thing. Ortho requires brute force and more strength than you could possibly have.”
A wink and then, “Think about your future. It’s not conducive to raising a family. And I doubt your husband will be happy with you working around all of these burly men.”
Her husband? Fuck. That. She hadn’t worked hard and sacrificed only to get married and give it up because some man couldn’t handle sharing the limelight or he’d made promises to her that later, he couldn’t be bothered to keep. Her mother had once made that mistake.
Nic never would.
“I’ll put off making a doctor’s salary for now,” she responded to Caila, “but in a year, my starting salary will be several times what I would’ve made as a general physician.”
“What are we talking about?” Lacey asked.
“Mid–six figures.”
Silence.
“Shit, Nic, I’d stay in school for that, too,” Ava said.
“Except you failed Organic Chemistry,” Caila added.
“Oh my God, are you the keeper of all memories?” Ava asked.
“Yes,” Caila said, in her “duh” tone.
“You’re good,” Lacey told Ava. “California Superior Court judges do well.”
“Not that well,” Ava muttered. “But that’s great news, Nic. In a year, you’ll be able to take care of your mother the way you’ve always wanted.”
Tears scalded the backs of her eyes but Nic refused to let them fall. It was no secret that a large motivating factor in her ambition involved taking care of her mother. After Nic’s father had left, Dee Allen worked several jobs to make sure they had everything they needed. Once Nic set her eyes on a goal, her mother never questioned it; she just figured out a way to make it happen.
“This fellowship will get you there?” Caila asked.
“That’s the plan.”
“And then you’ll be done?”
Some note in Caila’s tone struck Nic the wrong way.
Like Lovers Do Page 1
