The Doctor

by Nikki Sloane

  But I wondered how long he’d stood at the window.

  How much of my naked body had he seen, writhing on the deck chair? Should I have felt unease? Disgust? I didn’t. All I felt was odd and jittery, like I’d been left under a heat lamp too long. Whenever I thought about it, my skin glowed hot and was stretched too tight.

  “I just got in the water, give me a second,” I said, stalling for more time.

  Preston shot me a helpless grin. “Sorry.” Although his tone said he wasn’t. “You put on a bikini. How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself?”

  Six months ago, I would have found his comment playful and charming. Today, it turned me off.

  He leaned back in the water, floating near me, and his brown eyes looked richer with the water reflecting in them. He was cute when we’d first started dating, and he’d since filled out as he grew into a man. Like his father, he was handsome. Preston’s hair was short on the sides and long on top, and lighter in color than his dad’s.

  My stomach hurt with worry as I watched him glide through the water, carefree. He had no idea I was about to drop a bomb.

  “Hey,” I started, my voice already wavering. “We need to talk.”

  The patio door opened with a noisy slide, drawing our attention. Dr. Lowe stepped outside, carrying a pitcher in one hand and two plastic cups in the other.

  Preston grinned widely, and he asked his dad teasingly, like it was some joke I wasn’t in on, “What’s that?”

  “Fresh lemonade,” Dr. Lowe answered quickly. Too quickly.

  Preston laughed. “Poor Judy. Maybe I should go over there and tell her you hate the taste of lemon. She could make those cookies again. Or the brownies. Those were awesome.”

  I wrinkled my forehead in confusion. Preston swam close and circled me in his arms.

  “Our next-door neighbor got divorced, and now she wants my dad. Bad. Up until today, she’s been trying to seduce him with baked goods.” He squeezed tight, and it felt constricting. “Hey. How come you don’t bake stuff for me anymore?”

  “Probably because I’m busy and we hardly see each other?” My tone was more pointed than I’d meant for it to be.

  Dr. Lowe walked toward the glass table perched under the umbrella and set the pitcher and cups down. “Well, enjoy.”

  “You think she roofied it?” His son said it as a joke, but Dr. Lowe’s gaze narrowed suspiciously at the pitcher.

  “I’m sure it’s safe,” he said, then disappeared back into the house.

  “What a glowing endorsement,” Preston joked.

  Under the water, his hands began to wander, playing with the strings at my hips. I squirmed away, but he didn’t get the message, and my irritation reached critical mass.

  “I didn’t come over to have sex with you.”

  He shot me a confused look. “Then, why did you?”

  Oh my God.

  His simple question broke the last piece of my heart. He couldn’t see any other reason I’d want to be here? I wasn’t his friend anymore—I was just someone to stick his dick in. The realization was incredibly hurtful, and tears sprang into my eyes. My voice went shallow. “Preston, I can’t do this anymore. It’s over.”

  “What?” He went wooden, his shoulders snapping stiff. But judging by his reaction, he’d heard me loud and clear.

  “You’ve changed. We’re different people now.”

  His shocked expression was frozen on his face. It was painfully tense, and the only sound was the water quietly lapping at the edge of the pool. That was, until the sliding patio door rang out a second time.

  “Not now,” he growled at his father.

  It didn’t slow Dr. Lowe down. He had a cordless telephone in his hand. “It’s your boss. He says you’re not answering your cell.”

  “Fuck,” Preston muttered as he swam to the edge of the pool. “My battery ran down.” He stretched up a hand and took the receiver. “Hello?”

  He paused, listening to the other side, and contorted his face with an annoyed look.

  “No, I’m not coming in today. I don’t work again until Wednesday.”

  My gaze locked onto Dr. Lowe’s, and the thought seemed to hit us at the same time. Today was Wednesday.

  “Shit,” Preston said into the phone, scrambling toward the steps. “Yeah, of course. I’m so sorry. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  He flew up the stairs and out of the pool, dropping the phone on the chair cushion and grabbing the towel there. My towel, because he’d forgotten to bring one out.

  “I gotta go,” he said, scrubbing the water off his skin. No idea if he was talking to me or his father. “I’m already late.”

  Dr. Lowe crossed his arms over his broad chest, visibly displeased, and Preston noticed.

  “Yeah, I know,” he said, banding the towel around his hips and hurrying toward the patio door. “I screwed up. Sorry.”

  Again, no idea who this apology was directed at. I was glad to be in the cool water at that moment, because my blood boiled. He didn’t give a thought to staying and talking. He didn’t say anything to me—including goodbye. As he ducked into the house, I was left floating both physically and emotionally.

  My frustration got the better of me. “How did he not know it was Wednesday?”

  The summer had him all screwed up, but this was his job. Waiting tables wasn’t life or death, but Preston acted like having spending money for his upcoming sophomore year was.

  Dr. Lowe sighed loudly. “I’m sorry about him. You know you’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

  Um, unlikely. “Thanks.”

  He hesitated. “And there’s fresh lemonade.”

  “I know what you’re doing,” I said. “You’re just trying to unload that on me.”

  He smiled and nodded like he’d been busted. “I feel bad pouring it out. If you like lemons, I’m sure it’s good and probably not drugged.”

  I squeezed out a smile, meeting his. We held each other’s gaze for a long moment. Long enough for the smiles to end and be replaced with something different. He gave me a look similar to the one earlier and it made my pulse pound in my throat.

  What the hell? I stared down at the ripples in the water, blinking rapidly. Maybe I wasn’t imagining things.

  “Do you want some?” His deep voice sounded unsteady, and his question threw me.

  What exactly was he offering? “Some?”

  “Lemonade.”

  Right. I was an idiot, projecting things that weren’t there. “Oh. Sure.”

  He picked up a cup and poured from the pitcher, and my focus was drawn to his hands. They weren’t just beautiful, they were talented and worth a lot of money. How many lives had he saved with them?

  Off on the far side of the house, we heard the garage door go up, a car back down the driveway, and tires peel out.

  “Here you go,” he said, bending down over the edge of the pool to pass me the cup.

  “Thank you.” I took a sip, and he gauged my reaction. I puckered my lips. “Ugh. Don’t feel bad about pouring it out. It’s too tart.”

  I set the cup on the side of the pool and turned my gaze to the steps. I couldn’t stay here. I climbed out of the water as Dr. Lowe gathered up the cups and pitcher.

  He paused when he noticed me standing beside the railing, my arms crossed over my chest. It was warm outside, but when the breeze blew, it was chilly. I was drenched and wasn’t going to go inside the house to change until I at least stopped dripping.

  “You forget to bring a towel out?” he asked lightly.

  “No,” I said. “Preston did, and he took mine.”

  He shook his head and muttered something under his breath as he went inside the house, taking the gross lemonade with him. He reappeared thirty seconds later with a folded towel and passed it to me.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I didn’t want to go in and drip all over your carpet.”

  “Because you’re cap
able of thinking of someone besides yourself.”

  It had to be a dig at Preston, and I had absolutely no response. I wrapped the towel around my body and pressed my lips together.

  Dr. Lowe’s expression wasn’t exactly frustration—it looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead he held it back and just frowned. His brown eyes filled with disappointment.

  “Can I get you anything else?” he asked, hovering awkwardly. Almost as if he hoped I’d start a conversation. I searched the back of my brain to find something, but couldn’t.

  “I’m good,” I eked out.

  “All right. I’m . . . going inside.”

  He turned swiftly and disappeared into the house, moving so fast he didn’t see my mouth fall open. The man was a surgeon. He oozed confidence and always seemed calm in a crisis. When Preston had totaled his car two years ago, his father had been concerned, but never lost his cool throughout the ordeal.

  Seeing Dr. Lowe unsure? It made me nervous.

  THREE

  After I’d dried off enough, I let down my hair, grabbed my phone, and padded back into the house, shivering in the air conditioning. The enormous television was on, showing some news program, and the volume was so low I could barely hear it.

  Dr. Lowe didn’t seem to be watching.

  He sat casually on the large sectional couch, one arm thrown over the back of it, and gazed vacantly at the coffee table before him. The angle of his body and his form fitting t-shirt showed off his toned frame. His jeans clung to his powerful legs, and I lingered inside the doorway, gawking weirdly at him while my toes burrowed into the plush carpeting.

  My desire to talk to him was strong, but I shouldn’t. He was Preston’s father. I couldn’t exactly ask him for advice on what I should do now, could I? I cinched the towel tighter around my waist and made my way into the spare bedroom where I’d gotten changed.

  After I shut the door, my disappointment made me move slowly. I dropped my phone beside my stack of clothes and sighed. What was I going to do? Wait for Preston to call me? Technically, it was done. I’d told him we were over.

  Knuckles rapped softly on wood. “Cassidy?”

  I went motionless, and my heart skipped a beat faster. “Yeah?”

  “I . . . need to say something,” Dr. Lowe’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Can I come in?”

  I clenched a hand tight on the side of my towel. I hadn’t started changing, and he’d seen me in my swimsuit a minute ago, but that had been beside the pool. It was stupid, but I felt more exposed now that I was in the house. I pushed the thought aside. “Yeah.”

  He stepped into the room, shut the door behind him, and when he faced me, his shoulders sagged. Whatever he was about to say, it seemed deadly serious, and he’d struggled with the decision.

  “What’s wrong?” I whispered.

  “I shouldn’t be saying this, and it’s not my business, but Preston—” His eyebrows pulled together. “You should end it with him.”

  I nearly fell over. “What? Why?”

  It took him a lifetime to say something. Every rise and fall of his chest as he breathed made it harder for me to do so. I ran a list of reasons in my head of why he’d ask this, and one of them was absurd.

  “Because,” he said, “I’ve watched the way he treats you, and it’s not right. He’s at a point in his life where he’s extremely selfish, and he’s not going to get better. Not for a while.” Dr. Lowe’s expression was resigned. “Not until he learns to stop taking things for granted, and I’m unfortunately speaking from experience. When I was his age, I was the same way.”

  It was a lot to process, and I swallowed thickly. It was hard to think around him. Maybe the lemonade had been drugged.

  I opened my mouth to tell him I’d broken it off with Preston five minutes ago, but he kept talking.

  “I know this all sounds terrible. What kind of dad am I, telling you to break up with him?” He shook his head at his own question. “I don’t want to see either of you get hurt, but I think that’s bound to happen, no matter what you do. I’m probably going to walk out of this room regretting I said any of this, but I want to be clear, this is on him, not you.”

  He rubbed a hand on his defined jaw, and the whiskers scratched against his skin.

  “You’re a great girl, Cassidy, and frankly, you deserve more than my son can give right now.”

  “Wow.” It was a breath, rather than a word from me.

  Dr. Lowe’s face twisted with embarrassment, and his shoulders straightened sharply. “I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No, wait,” I cried as he turned toward the door. “I just broke up with him.”

  “You did?” He stilled. “Why?”

  I dropped my gaze to the carpet. It was too hard to look him in the face as I told him his son was less than perfect, even when Dr. Lowe seemed to know Preston was human. “For the same reason you just said. Preston and me, we’re different people from who we were three years ago.” My gaze crawled up Dr. Lowe’s body until I could meet his eyes. “I’m not sure the new me likes the new him all that much,” I admitted.

  “I get it,” he said, and he genuinely seemed to. There wasn’t defensiveness or anger in his eyes. It looked mostly like relief. “I grew up a lot when I was in school. I did stupid shit until I figured out how to be an adult, and I’m guessing that’s where he is right now.”

  “Still figuring it out?” It was a half-question, half-statement, because I knew it was true. Preston couldn’t get a handle on all the freedom of college life, and he’d gone overboard.

  “Yeah. He’s got a ways to go,” his father said.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Confusion flooded Dr. Lowe’s face. “For what?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. That I couldn’t make it work.”

  He looked at me like I was being silly. “Don’t do that. This isn’t your fault. Things don’t work out sometimes, and that’s just life.”

  I took in a deep breath. It was strange to talk about it with him, but it felt good too. It was nice to hear I wasn’t to blame. He was always so good at knowing what to say or do, and with that thought, I grew sadder than I’d been all day. “It sucks. I feel like I broke up with you too.”

  The second it was out of my mouth, I wanted it back. His eyes went wide.

  “I mean,” I sputtered, “because we won’t see each other again after this. Like, do we say goodbye?”

  I’d been a huge part of Preston’s life. There were pictures of me with my boyfriend sprinkled throughout this house. I’d even gone on vacation with the Lowes last summer.

  I wasn’t overly emotional, but I blinked back the threat of tears. “Is it weird to say I’m going to miss you?”

  Dr. Lowe’s face was heartbreaking, and the gravel in his voice matched. “No, not at all. I’m going to miss you too.”

  As I swallowed the lump in my throat, he moved toward me, his arms spread open for a hug. I stepped into it eagerly and let him crush me against his chest. If he didn’t care my swimsuit was wet, I didn’t either.

  He was warm and solid.

  His arms wrapped tighter, holding me, and it brought on a fresh threat of tears. I didn’t want things to change. I didn’t want this part to be over.

  My cheek was pressed to his chest, and I could hear the hurried beat of his heart inside. I closed my eyes, squeezing back the tears as his hand smoothed down the hair on the back of my head. How long would he let me stay like this?

  His warm palm was on the small of my back, and once again, the contact of it against my skin left me breathless. He moved, shifting the position subtly, as if settling me into his embrace, and unexpected pleasure jolted through me. It was instantly followed by a wave of shame. He was only offering advice and comfort. This was the most inappropriate time to get turned on.

  Yet I grew heavier each moment I was in his arms, wanting to get closer to him. He s
melled like wood and leather, and the scent was enticing. His muscles under my hands flexed and tensed, like whatever this strange thing happening between us was, he could sense it too.

  The hand in my hair moved, and he cupped the side of my face, drawing me back enough so he could peer down into my eyes. The way he gazed at me, it sucked the last of the air from my body. Made every nerve ending tingle.

  His look was intense. Wild. It announced he was considering doing something very, very bad.

  We stood as two people on a crumbling cliff, afraid to move or the ground would give way beneath and make us fall. Only our shoulders lifted with our hurried, uneven breaths. His palm seared against my cheek, and my eyes hooded.

  When his gaze slid down to my parted lips, I knew we were doomed, and the worst part was I didn’t care. I wanted it to happen. I tilted my chin up to meet him as he lowered his mouth to mine.

  FOUR

  Warning sirens blared in my mind, but it was useless. His gentle, hesitant kiss roared loudly through my body, drumming back any other sound. His soft lips moved against mine, cautious and testing, and I answered back. Even more, I encouraged. I opened my mouth to welcome his seeking tongue.

  He drew in a sharp breath through his nose as our reckless kiss deepened, but it didn’t stop his exploration of my mouth. Behind my back, his palm urged me into him, and his grip on my face firmed. His lush tongue dipped past my lips, slid against mine, causing goosebumps to burst down my legs.

  I couldn’t think, breathe, or even move as he kissed me, because I worried I’d break the spell.

  Dr. Lowe used the hand cupping my face to tilt me further up, enough to break the contact of our lips, but his mouth was still on my skin. It moved hurriedly over my cheekbone, streaming down the side of my neck.

  I shivered.

  My skimpy swimsuit was still wet, and the air conditioning was blowing on us from a vent overhead, but the tremble that shook my shoulders had nothing to do with that. It wasn’t the cause of my hardened nipples jutting out beneath the triangles of my bikini top either.

  Dr. Lowe was.