by Hope Ramsay
Colton got up and shook Dr. Langdon’s hand and thanked Rachel for dinner. Family dinner hadn’t been so bad. Yet he couldn’t quite help wondering if Dr. Langdon would prefer for his daughter a guy who wrote prescriptions and not tickets.
* * *
Colton waited on the porch swing with Rocket while Sara helped her grandmother to bed. She was a little breathless when she finally came back outside and sat down next to him.
“You made us coffee?” she asked, noting the cups set out on the little table.
“It’s decaf.” He handed her a cup. “Cream only, right?” She looked pleased about the coffee. Good, because he wanted to please her and let her know he was trying to be the man she needed. But he also needed her to understand a few things.
“Perfect, thanks.” She took a sip. “Thank you for coming to dinner tonight,” she said.
“No problem. It was…exciting. At least the 911 part was.” He fell into silence, intent on balancing his coffee cup on his knee, but really working up the courage to tell her what was on his mind.
“I need to tell you something,” they both said at the same time.
He set down his cup. “Can I go first?”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
He took up her hands, half facing her on the swing. Gently, he rubbed his thumbs over the soft flesh of her palm. “My father was a city cop. You know that, right?”
“Yes, I remember Nonna told me you’d lost him a long time ago.”
He kept holding on to her hand. “My mom used to worry about him a lot. She would stay up all hours of the night smoking cigarettes at the kitchen table, waiting for him to come home. Once he got hurt and she had to drag me out of bed in the middle of the night to go with her to the hospital. When I finally got to see my dad, he had an arm cast and his face was banged up. I was a little kid, and I guess I started crying, because he hugged me. I’ll never forget what he said to me.”
“Tell me,” Sara said, sitting close to him, resting their joined hands on the swing.
“He said, ‘Sometimes police officers get hurt so other people won’t.’ I think that’s when I knew I wanted to be one too.” He paused. “I was eight when he was killed on the job.”
“Colton, I’m so sorry.”
“It was during a bank robbery. He saved eight hostages.”
“He was a hero.” Sara’s eyes were teary.
Colton smiled a little. His dad was a hero. Colton just wished the hero part hadn’t kept him from actually having a dad. “The point is, small-town life isn’t the big city. Most of my job is just being around, getting to know everyone, patrolling, keeping an eye on things. But not everyone is nice, Sara. You never know when a call’s going to come that’s going to take you way out of your comfort zone. It’s a risk I have to live with as part of my job.”
That made her tear up more. She reached out and touched the area around his stitches. “It was awful, seeing you hurt like that.”
“The other night in the hospital, I thought I could push you away. I didn’t want you to see me like that. I didn’t want to put anybody through the kind of pain I saw my mom go through. It brought back too many bad memories.”
“Colton, I couldn’t not come.” Her voice was low and hoarse. “When my dad called, I had to be with you. Seeing you was all I could think of.”
Yeah, he got that—how upset she was, how much she cared. She’d worn it all over her face that night, and he could see the tenderness now in her eyes. He owed her more, the whole truth, so he forced himself to go on. “Truth is, I told Sandy we were just friends because I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” Her eyes were big and round.
He held her by the shoulders. Tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Of how I feel about you. I want to be more than friends, Sara. I want to give this a real shot. And I want to ask you if you’d be my girlfriend.”
There, he’d said it, and oh God, she was really tearing up now. He held her face in his hands, wiped away her tears with his thumbs.
He moved his hands along her jawline, angled her face, and kissed her, slowly and tenderly. Her lips were soft—hell, she was soft and sweet in his arms and he got lost in the simple act of kissing her, of exploring every inch of her mouth, of holding her in his arms. Nothing had ever felt so absolutely right.
“What happens if I say yes to the girlfriend thing?” she murmured.
“You get more kisses,” he said with a grin. Their lips met again, more thoroughly, more insistently. God, he’d missed her. It had been a week since he’d kissed her, but it had felt like a year. He moved his hands through the silky thickness of her hair and tugged her closer while she slid her arms around his waist.
He was just contemplating the pros and cons of doing her under the porch swing when he became suddenly aware of headlights spotlighting them. Rafe’s truck pulled up the drive, the wheels spitting out gravel. He got out and walked up to the porch.
“Rafe, what’s wrong?” Sara asked.
“I came to spend the night with Nonna.”
Oh my God, Colton loved this guy. “You sure you don’t have a date or something?” Colton asked.
“Nope. So I can sleep here, right? That’s all I have to do? And when I get up in the morning, if I’m lucky she’ll make me breakfast?”
“Something like that,” Sara said.
Colton stood up and pulled him in with a bro handshake. “Thanks.”
Rafe lowered his voice. “You know I love you, but if you hurt my sister you’re a dead man.”
“Got it,” Colton said.
“See you tomorrow, Sis.”
Sara hugged her brother. “Thanks, Rafe.”
* * *
Sara followed Colton into his apartment. Champ was happy to see her but even more happy to go outside with Colton to relieve himself. Sara had just enough time to dash into Colton’s bathroom and use his mouthwash. OK, so she’d managed to relax quite a bit, but she still couldn’t help having some type A moments.
Colton found her on the couch, leafing through a Time magazine she was pretending to read. Champ came bounding over, grabbing a tennis ball from somewhere and depositing the wet slimy thing in her lap. She petted his glossy black coat. “Well, hello there, handsome. You’re in the mood to play, aren’t you?”
Colton sat down next to her and threw the ball for his dog, who tore off across the living room chasing it. He looked at her with an unholy gaze that sent a shiver racing down her spine. This time, when Champ dropped the ball into her lap, Colton tossed it as far away as he could. “Champ can wait,” he said, his mouth curving into a smile.
Then he was kissing her, toppling her to the couch, his delicious weight over her. He kissed her thoroughly, his hands roving everywhere, murmuring wonderful things like how much he’d missed her and how lucky he felt to be with her. This was her crack, this love talk, which, she was discovering, he used quite frequently. He could mumble his grocery list like that and she’d surely melt just as easily into his arms.
Speaking of arms, somehow his shirt was off, and she found herself encased by a pair of rock-solid biceps. She wrapped her arms around his lean waist, slid them up his back, feeling the hills and valleys of muscle, the soft skin over the flexing, sculpted firmness.
Of course the dog trotted back, tennis ball in his teeth, nudging both of them with it. Colton turned to Champ and patted him on the head. “Sorry, buddy. Go in your bed.”
The dog crossed the room, tail between his legs, and slunk into his bed. No surprise he listened. Who wasn’t under this man’s spell?
Colton smiled from above her on the couch. He had such full lips for a man, and skillful too, running them along her stomach, using one hand to open her bra with one quick flick. Then his mouth was on her breast, and she was arching and reaching for him, and somehow in the shedding of the clothes they ended up on the floor. Sensation spilled over her in waves, and all she knew was how he was touching her, kissing her, using his clever mouth to bring her to a p
lace where words couldn’t form, where there were only the two of them and nothing and no one else. She marveled at how perfectly they fit together, how they moved, how everything felt so…effortlessly right.
“Sara, I…Now. OK?” She smiled at his lost words, the struggle for control. In the fever pitch of the moment, all she could do was nod. He reached for a condom and before he entered her, he looked at her. No, not just looked—he saw her in a way no one had ever seen her before. That one resounding moment shattered her and she knew—just knew—this was it. He was it. She wrapped herself around him and clung to him, telling him with her body what she could not say. How could she say it? His coming to family dinner was a big deal. It had been difficult for him just to ask her to be in a relationship. Mentioning the L word would surely send him running for the hills.
Then he was inside her, moving, starting a rhythm that swept all thought away. And there was just him, his body, his lips, the clean scent of him that was so familiar and comforting, the confident way he moved and touched her—it was all him, only him.
They came together, shattering quickly and absolutely, and when it was done they lay there on the floor, tangled up in each other. Colton drew her into him so that her head was resting on his shoulder, his big arms wrapped around her perfectly. They were both a little sweaty. He smoothed her hair back from her face. She curled an arm around his waist, and they lay there together, their breathing slowing.
He kissed the top of her head.
“Was this our first makeup sex?” she asked, running her hand along his chest, over the soft, light coating of hair that lined his muscles.
“Um, I think so. Why?”
“Because if it is, I mean—wow. Maybe we should disagree more often.”
“Or maybe I should come to family dinner more often.” He chuckled. And then he kissed her again.
* * *
Colton found her on his couch at four in the morning, writing on a legal pad and glancing at her laptop, and took a seat beside her. He kissed her cheek, then asked, “What are you doing awake?” They should both be sleeping like the dead, in his opinion.
“I’m a little excited. We’ve got a decorator coming to the office tomorrow who wants our input about paint, and we’re ordering new waiting room furniture and some paintings to hang on the walls. And I had an idea about how we could actually schedule my dad more half-hour visits so he could spend time with his more complicated patients and still keep the office moving. My goal is to actually have us all leave the office by five p.m. I’ve already got us starting a little earlier, and I even blocked a half hour out for lunch.”
She seemed happier and more relaxed than he’d ever seen her. Well, except during their lovemaking. She definitely seemed happy and relaxed then. “Sounds like things at the office are going better.”
“I’m learning tips from my dad, like how to focus down on the immediate problem. He’s got so much experience. Plus he knows any rash this side of the Mississippi. And he’s been asking me about new treatment options he’s not as familiar with. It’s…I don’t know. I feel like it’s starting to work.”
“That’s great. Sounds like a real partnership.”
She looked at him and smiled. Her hair was mussed. She was wearing one of his T-shirts and a pair of his boxers, and she looked like the sweetest thing he’d ever seen. “Yeah. I hope so.”
“I’m really happy for you,” he said, gently nudging the laptop from her hands and shutting it. Then he nuzzled her neck.
“Well, it’s getting there. And I’m really getting to know people again. Guess who I saw yesterday? Mr. Campanella.”
He continued to kiss her neck. This time she extended it, giving him better access. “Our trig teacher?”
“Yep. He retired, did you know that? I’m starting to feel like I’m becoming part of the community. Or at least I hope so. I keep working towards that.”
“Sara, all you have to do is be yourself and I’m certain you will.” She liked her job, she liked Angel Falls. Music to his ears. “Besides, I’d certainly love it if you stayed. And I’ve been thinking.”
She blushed, which he took as a good sign. “About what?”
“I have a few new ideas I’d like to discuss with you too.”
“Oh, is that right?”
He took the pen out of her hand. Placed the legal pad on the coffee table. And proceeded to show her exactly what he meant.
Chapter 19
Sara went into the office early Monday morning to catch up on paperwork, entering through the staff entrance in the back. At 8:10, she remembered the meeting with the decorator about the waiting room redo. As she walked into the hallway from her office, she heard voices from beyond the reception window. She was on her way to join everyone when she saw that the green flag had been lifted in front of one of the exam room doors, which meant the room was occupied. Sure enough, a chart was in the door.
She walked around the counter and peeked into the waiting room to ask her dad if it was one of his patients, but everyone was excitedly weighing in on fabric swatches.
“Burnt sienna is really popular right now,” the decorator, Claire Hutton, was saying. “We could do that in a vinyl on the waiting room chairs and alternate with aqua chairs. And I’ve got this fun pattern here that we could mix and match in between the other two. What do you think?”
Her dad pulled his bifocals down on his nose, deep in contemplation.
“I think after thirty years anything’s an improvement,” Leonore said, catching Sara’s eye through the window and winking.
Sara decided not to bother them and go see the patient for herself. She’d just pulled the chart from the slot and turned the doorknob when Leonore came bursting into the back office. “Sara, wait!” she said excitedly, waving her arms. “He insisted on seeing your father as a sick visit. Don’t go in there!”
Too late. She’d already opened the door. There, sitting with his long legs dangling off the exam table, was Tagg.
Tagg. After an entire year. She didn’t trust herself to close the door behind her. She might murder him, and with the door open, maybe someone could stop her before it was too late. On the other hand, she didn’t want anyone hearing whatever he had to say. Closing the door won, after she’d signaled to poor Leonore that everything was OK. Maybe.
“Tagg,” she said on an exhalation, trying to suck in deep, calming breaths as she approached him. “How did you get in here?” She’d known that sooner or later their paths would cross, although he seemed to be making every effort to ensure that that didn’t happen. Except for the paperwork she’d had to fill out to give him her half of their house, she hadn’t heard a peep from him. So why was he here, masquerading as a patient?
His big brown eyes swiveled over to her. She used to love those dark, mysterious eyes—used to think they were honest eyes. His shiny ink-black hair and full lips were so familiar to her, yet knowing him seemed like a lifetime ago.
She thought of all the times she’d looked at that face. Loved that face. They’d shared a lot together, over ten-plus years of life, there was no denying. For just a moment, it was as if none of the ugliness had happened and it was just another day, when he’d somehow come to joke around and say hey before his own workday began.
But Tagg’s face wasn’t the same innocent face she’d once loved. He wasn’t the person she’d once thought he was.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I had to see you, Sara. I’m dying.” He placed his hands over his chest.
He was sitting there calm as could be. Definitely not in any distress. “Quit clowning around.”
“I’m not clowning around. Look at my chart.” He pointed with a fine, long-fingered hand to the manila folder resting near the sink.
She did. It read, simply, “Chest pain.”
Chest pain? A nagging feeling in her gut told her something was up. Even if he was serious, she wasn’t about to collect his medical history. And she certainly wasn’t goin
g to examine him.
“I can’t see you as a patient.” She walked to the door and put a hand on the doorknob. “Let me get my dad.”
“Wait,” he called out. “Why can’t you just see me? I’ll cooperate, I promise.”
Who cared if he cooperated? She was too annoyed to see him, and the fact that she was truly irritated with him filled her with relief. That pining feeling, that yearning she’d felt in spite of herself for much of the last year was…gone. In the past year she’d often imagined meeting him again, and the thought had filled her with dread. She’d pictured running into him and his girlfriend on the street, maybe even seeing them strolling an adorable, drooly baby, Valerie wearing a diamond the size of a golf ball and proclaiming their love. And the same feelings would overtake her, that she simply hadn’t been enough. She’d been the woman someone could bail on two days before their wedding and never think of again.
But strangely, she didn’t feel like that lonely, displaced person, the object of pity. She felt no sadness, no dread, no longing. Her heart wasn’t racing. Nor were her thoughts. She just wanted to move on with her day.
Colton had already sent her a pic of Champ looking adoringly into his phone, captioned We both miss you already. And just then, as if she’d conjured him, her phone vibrated. Is Tagg in there? read the text. I see his car out front.
Of course Tagg had probably parked his Popsicle-red Porsche on the street, with its license plate TAGG IM IT. Conspicuous consumption at its finest, that was Tagg.
She ignored the text for now. She doubted Tagg was having a heart attack, but if he was, she didn’t want it to be on her conscience that she’d botched the diagnosis. Although it was tempting to do just that.
“Just a minute,” she said, and walked out into the hall. She avoided the reception area, instead going to the only other exam room with a closed door and knocking.
