The Doctor's Do-Over

by Karen Templeton

  Ryder mirrored her position to rest his hand on her hip. Her firm round hip which he’d been too preoccupied before to thoroughly appreciate. Along with the rest of this gift, as she called it.

  Carefully, deliberately, he slid his hand down her thigh, then back up over her hip again, to her waist, then her breast, warm and soft and irresistible, watching her brows lift, her mouth curve.

  “So do you ever get a yen for both kinds of cookies at the same time?” he asked, and she laughed, that wonderful, throaty sound that wrapped around his wounded heart like thick, warm fleece on a stormy night.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Glad to hear it,” he said, shifting to kiss her.

  In a spot, that, judging from her squeal, she clearly hadn’t expected.

  * * *

  If Ryder fast was amazing, Ryder slow was...

  Was...

  Can I get back to you on that? Mel mused drowsily a looooong time later, cradled against that lovely, solid chest, his lovely, strong heart thumping steadily in her ear, even as she knew at any moment the endorphins would wear off and she’d realize she was in a whole heap o’ trouble. Not to mention while they’d been satiating the heck out of each other all that other stuff hadn’t magically resolved itself.

  But until then...

  Bliss.

  “I suppose I should get you back to the house,” he murmured, tracing lovely, lacey circles on her shoulder. “Or April will wonder.”

  Mel chuckled. “Wonder, nothing. April knows.”

  Although Ryder’s flinch might’ve been nearly imperceptible if she hadn’t been smooshed up beside him, all nekkid and what-all, a flinch, it definitely was. “Knows?”

  “That we didn’t pop out to IHOP for a late-night snack.”

  He sighed. “Which would no doubt account for the scathing look she gave me.”

  “Can April even do scathing?”

  “Apparently so.”

  “She’s afraid I’ll get my heart broken. Even though I assured her that wouldn’t happen.” At Ryder’s silence, she thought, Oh, hell, and shifted to look at him. Mustered up the courage to ask, “Were you thinking about her? When we—”

  Dude looked thoroughly confused. “Who? April?”

  “No.”

  His sudden grip on her arm was almost painful. “Let’s get one thing straight, Mel—I have never in my life had sex with one woman while fantasizing about another. Whatever went on tonight was between us. Period.”

  Then she saw it. The misgiving, radiating like a damn aura.

  “However...?”

  He curled forward, plunging a hand through his hair, and Mel would have given almost anything to be stricken deaf at that moment. So she wouldn’t have had to hear him say, “This was still probably a mistake.”

  “A mistake, it should be noted, it took you more than an hour to figure out.”

  He twisted to look at her, his expression ravaged. “I don’t do hook-ups, either.”

  “Is that what you think this was? A hook-up?”

  “Wasn’t it?”

  Annoyed as all hell—with him, with herself, with the whole damn situation—Mel lunged forward to search for her clothes scattered across what there was of the floor in the minuscule cabin, knocking the wind out of herself in the process. Panties and jeans found, she clumsily jerked them back on, then grabbed the hoodie.

  “Okay, bub, let me make something clear—” she shoved her arms into the hoodie, jerked up the zipper “—while I’m more than aware that this was a one-shot deal, believe me, I don’t give just anybody access to these—” she pointed to her boobs “—let alone the rest of the package. But if you don’t think what we just shared was a rare and wonderful thing...well, I don’t suppose I can tell you what to think, can I?”

  His own clothes yanked back on, Ryder followed Mel up onto the deck. “And you being upset right now only proves how wrong it was.”

  Mel wheeled on him, only to lift her hands and suck in a deep breath. Then another. Before she clobbered him like she used to when they were kids. “I’m not upset because of what we did, birdbrain, I’m upset because you’re being an idiot.”

  “And maybe that’s my point!” Ryder shot back, then shoved out a lungful of air. “I’m sorry—”

  “For what?”

  He gave her an exasperated look. “I thought doing that...with you...would, I don’t know. Purge me. Or something. Force me out of this prison I can’t seem to leave even though I know I’m the one holding the key. Instead, now I know I can’t make the doors open. And it kills me that...that I used you.”

  “Even though I was more than willing to be used?”

  “Not sure how that makes it better. Let alone right.”

  “Oh, Ry, Ry, Ry...” Mel huffed out a breath, then grabbed the railing to keep her balance as the boat lurched. “You are too damn good for your own good, you know that? When are you going to stop shouldering the responsibility for everybody else’s decisions?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Yes, you do. You always have. I used to find it admirable. Now I just want to slap you silly.”

  He almost smiled. “It’s just...” After a short head shake, he glanced down, then back at her. “I thought, here we are starting over, trying to figure out what we are to each other, to...to forge something solid for Quinn’s sake if nothing else, and now...” His shoulders jerked with the force of his sigh. “I was afraid we’d ruined our chance at a do-over. That I’d ruined it.”

  “For crying out loud—are you listening to yourself? Like you said, what we are to each other and what you are, or will be, to Quinn...separate issues. So. Did you have a good time tonight?”

  Ryder looked out over the water, his jaw clenching, before letting his gaze touch hers again. “Goes without saying.”

  “Then could you simply own that and not overthink it, for heaven’s sake?”

  Another several seconds passed before, at long last, his scowl relaxed. Not exactly into a smile, but at least he no longer looked as though he’d accidentally set World War Three in motion.

  “I’ll try,” he said, and Mel released another breath.

  “It’s a step,” she said, even as she sternly told her heart to listen up, to own her own decision, her own actions, for what they were—nothing more than simply helping out a friend in need.

  That she’d known going in that more was not an option, so no moaning about it now.

  Granted, their attempts at normal conversation on the short drive back to Amelia’s house were pretty abysmal, but considering all the stuff churning in Mel’s head, she could only imagine what was going through Ryder’s. She could reassure him until the cows came home, but ultimately he was responsible for finding his own peace.

  “You don’t have to get out,” she said when they pulled up in front of the house, but he did anyway. ’Cause that’s the kind of guy he was.

  Even took her hand when he walked her to the door, yeesh. Which did not make things less strained between them. Once there, however, he let go to ram his hands in his pockets, his distressed gaze steady in hers. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much you mean to me,” he said quietly, and her heart ka-thudded against her sternum. “How much...” He removed one hand from his pocket to drag it across his downturned mouth before slugging it back into its cave. “How much I...appreciated tonight.” Could be a trick of the light, but she could have sworn his eyes glimmered. “How grateful I am it was you.”

  Her own smile was a little wobbly. “Kinda the point I was trying to make?”

  Ryder blew a laugh through his nose. “You’re something else, Mel Duncan,” he said, then walked back to his car, his footsteps the loneliest sound Mel had ever heard.

  And perfectly echoing her own heartbeat.

 
* * *

  Except for the occasional fitful, fretful patch of sleep, Ryder had lain awake most of the night, becoming more irritated with each chime of the grandfather clock—another flea market find—downstairs.

  Because for all the words he and Mel had tossed at each other after their little tryst, the truth—at least on his part—had deftly sidestepped them all, flitting in and out of the conversation like a ghost. Now, at some unholy hour of the morning as he poured himself a cup of brutally black coffee in the cold, half-finished kitchen, the apparition shimmered more clearly into focus. Still elusive, for sure, but whose unsettling existence he couldn’t deny.

  Ryder shut his eyes, not against the specter, but so he could will it more clearly into focus, despite the raging headache, and heartache, it brought with it:

  That even though he knew he couldn’t be what Mel needed and deserved, he wanted her. Especially after last night. Selfishly, irrationally, like a child obsessed with the idea of having something he can’t take proper care of.

  Because the thing was, he knew Mel too well, knew she was lying about being okay with last night’s one-off. As generous as she was, she wasn’t that generous—as her own admission about how seldom she shared her body attested, he thought with a tight grin. And he’d be lying if he didn’t admit how much that admission had stoked his ego, even as it made mincemeat out of his already pummeled heart.

  Ryder took another swig of the bitter brew, an equally bitter laugh escaping his throat as he thought of what Mel’s reaction would be to his musings. At this point, “slapping him silly” seemed fitting, somehow, especially when it hit him that he’d somehow landed right where he’d been ten years ago. Why was it, he wondered, did he keep being what he most had to protect her from?

  Irony, he thought that was called.

  Although this time he couldn’t turn tail and run. Nor did he want to. For good or ill he was crazy about this sleepy little town, loved how his practice here was more about people than paperwork and peddling quick “fixes” that rarely were, about being able to offer comfort when there was little else to offer. So Mel’s determination not to stick around any longer than necessary was actually a godsend...and at least part of the impetus behind Ryder’s resolve, that gray, gloomy morning, to settle this issue about Quinn without further delay.

  The other being, of course, his promise to Mel to do what he could to fix this whole sorry mess. Even if that meant alienating his mother—not that he had a whole lot to lose there, he thought peevishly. But if what his father had intimated to Mel was true, if Lorraine was still hanging on to secrets that had in all likelihood played, or were still playing, some part in said mess, then Ryder would do everything in his power to drag them out of her, once and for all and damn the torpedoes. At least he could give Mel that.

  He waited until seven, however, to call the woman who’d given him life, both to be sure she was awake and after having consumed enough caffeine to fuel the entire Eastern Shore. She answered on the fourth ring, breathing hard.

  “Ry? Why on earth are you calling so early? Is everything okay?”

  “I’m fine. Are you?”

  “What? Oh, of course. I took the dogs for a walk, the phone was ringing when we got in, I ran to get it—”

  “So you haven’t had breakfast yet?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Thought I’d join you.”

  “Oh. Um, sure. Your father’s gone though, he had a delivery last night—”

  “That’s fine, it’s you I want to talk to.”

  “Really?” A pause. “Actually, since I wanted to talk to you, too, this is good. Don’t hurry, though, I look a fright.”

  A half hour later, Ryder was seated at the round, whitewashed table in the breakfast room in front of a plate of Eggbeaters and toast with some supposedly heart-healthy spread. His parents never replaced Maureen and Tony, opting instead for weekly visits from yard and housekeeping services, his mother declaring it was time she learned how to cook, anyway—after a fashion—although holidays and dinner parties were always catered.

  Pulled together in a pair of gray pants and a lavender sweater that clashed violently with her red hair, Lorraine sat across from him, buttering her toast and looking eerily cheerful. “This is nice, don’t you think? We so rarely have breakfast together anymore.” They’d rarely had breakfast together, ever, but Ryder let it go. “So why are you here?”

  “To discuss Quinn,” he said, and his mother’s eyes shot to his. “It’s time to put this whole nonsense to bed, don’t you think?”

  His mother took a sip of her coffee, the creamy, gold-rimmed Lenox cup rattling slightly when she set it back on the saucer. “Well. Nothing like coming straight to the point.”

  “I thought so.”

  His mother’s eyes lifted to his, sharp with her customary determination. And something else, something that both caught him slightly off guard and put him on it. But before he could figure out what, she said, “I saw her yesterday.”

  His glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice halfway to his mouth, Ryder jerked. “Excuse me?”

  “At Finnegan’s. Your father texted me, told me they were there. Don’t be angry,” she said when Ryder’s brows crashed, “I think he thought I might not get another chance to see her.” In the stark morning light, her blush was unmistakable. “And I wrestled with myself for several minutes before curiosity won out over...” She paused. “Over habit. So I went. But I sat at a table a few feet away so she wouldn’t see me. Or at least, so she wouldn’t have any reason to guess who I was if she did.”

  Lorraine nibbled her toast, rubbing non-existent crumbs from her fingers when she set the piece back on her plate, then let her gaze drift out the window. “She’s quite something, isn’t she?”

  Bowled over both by this bit of information and the wistfulness in her voice, Ryder sat back in his chair. It couldn’t possibly be this easy, could it?

  “Yes. She is.”

  She looked back at him, then lifted one hand to her hair, her diamonds glittering. “You’re absolutely right, it is time to put this all behind us. I know how badly I’ve bungled things—”

  “To say the least.”

  Her nostrils flared with her sigh. “When we found out Jeremy had gotten Melanie pregnant,” she said, “it all seemed so wrong. On so many levels. I really did what I thought was best, you have to believe that. But had I realized...”

  She glanced down at the oblivious retriever lying beside her, then back up at Ryder. “I want to know my granddaughter. I want to be her grandmother. Especially since Jeremy and Caroline have decided not to have children, and you...” She bit down on whatever she’d been about to say.

  “In other words, you think Quinn’s your only shot.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “I’m a realist, Ryder. I deal with what’s in front of me, not what might be. And who knows how long it’s going to take you to get over Deanna—”

  “Not here to talk about Deanna, Mom,” Ryder said, refusing to let her derail the conversation. Or let his own issues taint it. “Or me. And I suppose you’re right—you can only work with what you’re given. In fact, one of the reasons I want to see this resolved is because I’m already nuts about Quinn, too. But I want a real relationship with her, not one based on lies and secrets. I want her to know I’m her uncle. However, that’s not going to happen until you make things up to Mel. Yes, that’s right—you want access to your granddaughter, you’re going to have deal with Mel.” Images flashed, receded. As did a flash-fire of longing Ryder literally swallowed down. “And me.”

  His mother gave him a speculative look. “So your friendship...it’s back on?”

  “It would seem so,” he said carefully, even as guilt wrapped icy cold fingers around his heart and squeezed tight. �
�And whatever my role in all this is, it’s as her advocate.”

  A smile crept across his mother’s mouth. “Meaning you’re my only hope for fixing this.”

  “Only to a certain extent. The rest is up to you.”

  “But she’s at least amenable to the idea? That we’re all on the same page—?”

  “Not so fast. Yes, she’s definitely ready to tell Quinn the truth, especially since she keeps asking about her father—”

  “Oh, no—we can’t bring Jeremy into this.”

  “Not sure how you think you’re going to keep him out. Since not only is it Quinn’s right to know whose genes she’s carrying, if she finds out you’re her grandparents, and I’m not her father, that kind of leaves a pretty big X factor in the equation, don’t you think?”

  His mother grimaced. “But his marriage...”

  “Not our problem, Mom. Not your problem. Because guess what? Jeremy’s all grown up now.” At least, ostensibly. “He will deal, because he has no choice. And so will Caroline.”

  His mother knuckled the rapidly deepening wrinkle between her brows, then let her hand smack to the table. “God. Secrets are a bitch.”

  “And there’s a revelation that’s eleven years too late.”

  Her eyes shot to his. And there it was again, that look, like some creature furtively peeking out of a door that had been locked for far too long. “Fine. Just let me...warn him.”

  “No, actually, I call that one.”

  “Ryder, no, this has nothing to do with you—”

  “Oh, yeah? Jeremy damn well knew how important Mel was to me. So you can’t tell me his moving in on her like a cheetah with a wounded gazelle wasn’t deliberate. As angry as I am with you, that’s got nothing on how I feel about him.”

  His mother fidgeted with her juice glass. “Then why didn’t you call him as soon as you found out?”

  “Because Mel would’ve killed me,” he said, and his mother almost smiled. “But before you go planning Quinn’s coming-out party, there’s a huge gap between telling Quinn who you are and letting her get chummy with you.”