by Lucy Lennox
Nancy looked up at him with a huge smile. “You’re brilliant! If only we’d hired you to do the designs. Now, what colors would you pick?”
Before Oz could answer, Doc Sharma rounded the corner and gave me a slap on the shoulder. “Do you still have Oz’s chart?” he asked. His voice carried loud enough that both ladies and Oz turned to look at us. Oz stiffened when he saw me and all the life I’d seen in his eyes as he’d spoken with the women drained away.
“Ah, sure, here,” I said as I handed him the chart but hung onto the prescription.
“Doc, Oz here had some great ideas for the lobby refit,” Nancy called. “And he agrees with us about this awful color scheme.”
“Oh yeah?” Doc Sharma said with interest as he moved past me. “What kind of ideas?”
Oz seemed to hesitate before he responded. When he did, some of the passion was gone and I knew why.
Because he was focused on me and waiting for me to interrupt, to dismiss him. He kept looking my way as he repeated all the things he’d discussed with the ladies. But the animation wasn’t there. His smile was stiff and forced.
Fuck, I’d really done a number on him.
“Damn,” Doc Sharma muttered as he studied the design and then looked at Oz. “Your ideas are a much better fit, but we’ve already signed a contract with the designer who came up with this.” He lifted the design in his hand. “We’re barely making ends meet, so we can’t really afford to pay for this design and a new one.” He looked pointedly at Oz. “In addition to serving the residents of Haven, we also treat a lot of patients from the surrounding communities who can’t afford health insurance and whose government assistance doesn’t always cover everything. So we don’t have a lot of extra money to throw around.”
“Are you sure you signed a contract for completion of the project versus just completion of a design?” Oz asked. “Often when you hire a designer, it’s just for the design. If that’s the case, maybe you could get volunteers to help with the labor. I could maybe—”
Oz’s words cut off as he shot me a glance.
“I mean, I’m sure people would be willing to help out, and I could write down some of the stuff we talked about.”
Oz dropped his eyes.
I felt my chest tighten uncomfortably as I realized what had just happened. He’d been about to volunteer his services, but hadn’t because of me.
Because I’d been a dick to him, and he didn’t want to spend even a second more in my company than he absolutely had to.
That fact should have made me feel relief.
It didn’t.
Not even a little bit.
“I guess we need to take a look at that contract,” Doc Sharma said.
“I have it,” Nancy said as she hurried to the reception desk.
“I’ll go call the lab about Mrs. Keller’s test results again, Doc,” Becky said as she excused herself.
Nancy returned and handed the doctor a folder.
“Jake, you mind taking a look at this?” Doc Sharma said as he held up the folder. “You’re always better at this stuff than me,” the older man muttered.
I wanted to laugh at that because I was as clueless as him when it came to that stuff. But I forced myself to close the distance between us and take the folder. I remembered the prescription in my hand and gave it to Oz. “Your prescription. There’s a pharmacy down the block called Polers. It’s run by a man named Gus. He’ll take good care of you,” I said quietly. I hated the fact that Oz had gone dark, like a bulb that had been dimmed until it was barely still on.
“Thanks,” Oz responded stiffly as he took the paper carefully from me like he was trying to avoid letting our fingers brush together. I was grateful for that fact because I was already struggling with my spiking lust.
Lust and guilt.
Not a great combination.
I tried to focus on the contract, but it was all gibberish as far as I was concerned. Lab results, X-rays, EEGs–I could understand that shit like nobody’s business, but legal jargon…
My eyes fell on a couple of lines at the end of the paperwork. “I think you might be stuck with this,” I said. “But I’m not really sure,” I admitted.
I started to hand the folder back to Doc Sharma, but Oz piped up and asked, “Do you mind if I take a look?”
I could see the hurt in his eyes that I hadn’t even thought to ask him.
Because I hadn’t.
God, I really was an asshole.
I handed him the paperwork. He flipped through it, his eyes rapidly scanning the document as his hand came up to brush self-consciously through his newly shorn hair as if looking for the missing locks he’d left behind. I felt my cock tighten in my pants when his tongue came out to lick his lips a few times. I suspected he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.
“Can I see those design specs?” Oz asked, looking up. Doc Sharma handed him another document, and after another minute and more of the licking his lips thing, Oz said, “The good news is that contract is just for the design, and you’re certainly not committed to actually using it. The interesting thing is that your contract says they are to create a design based on your budget of twenty-four thousand dollars, but the materials they’re suggesting add up to closer to forty. Did they say why they went so much over budget?”
Doc Sharma’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding! The whole reason I hired the design company to manage this was so I wouldn’t have to worry about it. Half that furniture has already been ordered and paid for. Let me see those specs.”
Oz handed the paperwork back. “If you already ordered the furniture, you can find a way to design around it. Instead of using lime green on the walls and going for a trendy vibe, you can put a cool gray on the walls and find some nice floral prints that pull the reds and oranges together in a much different way. The prints are cheap and if you take them to be framed elegantly, you’d be surprised how it will transform the space into a comfortable but tasteful and timeless space. You can even frame some mirrors the same way and intersperse them to add light and space. The main problem with this design you paid for is it will look old after two years. It needs to be more ageless unless you want to start budgeting now for another refit.”
Dr. Sharma frowned as he studied the contract, then looked at Oz with hope. “Oz, I know it’s a lot to ask, but do you think you could help us out with this? It might be time-consuming for you. I know you’re not here for long and you have your own work to do. Jake told me about your fashion design. We wouldn’t be able to pay you much—”
“Oh no, you wouldn’t have to pay me,” Oz chimed in. “I, uh…” He stuttered to a halt as he looked at me again, and I felt that unfamiliar pang in my belly at the knowledge that he was once again hesitating because of me. I could practically feel him vibrating with the need to say yes.
My life would be so much easier if he said no.
I needed him to say no.
But that wasn’t what I said when Oz dropped his eyes and felt for his missing locks again. “I think we’d be incredibly lucky to get your help, Oz,” I said softly. He looked up in surprise, and I held his gaze so I could try and tell him what I couldn’t find words for. “If you have the time, that is.”
He studied me for a long time. A gamut of emotions played across his pretty face.
Uncertainty.
Nervousness.
Want.
I understood that last one the best. The designing stuff was a part of him, just like medicine was with me. But all those other emotions were there because of me, and I wanted to kick myself for how I’d treated him.
I’d let my isolation and fear drive me to this place where I’d become someone I didn’t even recognize anymore. The old me never would have lashed out at someone like I had at Oz. My entire life had been about healing people, not hurting them.
But that was what I’d done to the young man in front of me–hurt him.
And he hadn’t deserved any of it.
Oz let out a brea
th and said, “If you’re sure you want me.” He directed his question to Doc Sharma but kept looking at me. I barely heard Doc Sharma gush in gratitude because I was struggling to hold back my own response to Oz.
I want you, Oz. And that’s a big fucking problem.
Chapter 5
Oz
What the hell just happened and who the hell was the Oz who’d been all insecure and unsure back at the clinic? I knew I was good with design and color. Hell, after all these years modeling, I was whip-smart about contracts too–I’d had to be after years of losing my shirt to a greedy-ass agent when I’d first started in the industry. But back at the clinic, my natural inclination had been to demur and let the better-educated people handle it–no, to let Jake handle it. And that burned me up inside.
When I thought about what I wanted my life to look like, sitting on the sidelines didn’t fit anywhere in the scene.
But a dark and brooding man sure does. Preferably one with a five-o’clock shadow, moody gray eyes, and a promising bulge in his jeans.
I let out a bark of ugly laughter that sounded loud in the silence of the winter air around me. My breath came out in puffs of warm fog as I trudged up the hill to the cabin.
Trudged as in walked.
Yeah, because I’d gotten the fucking car stuck in a snowbank again. No doubt Jake would drive past it later and roll his eyes at the stupidity of the city kid. Fuck it, who cared?
Okay, so I still hadn’t figured out the winter driving thing, but that was but one tiny obstacle on the path to my new life. No way in hell was I going to let my broody neighbor be another, and never again would I sit by and act like an airhead when I knew I could contribute to a conversation. I would not let an intense pair of gray eyes knock me off my center.
As I found myself back to ruminating on the hot and cold running mysterious doctor from next door again despite my better judgement, I didn’t notice the vehicle parked in front of my cabin until I was almost on top of it. I looked up to see Bennett Crawford standing on my front porch. I’d met the good-looking lodge owner when he’d come to New York for a benefit concert and offered me his and Xander’s cabin to rent.
A decision I was seriously starting to rethink.
A whole winter holed up next to Jake the grouch?
Really?
“Hi, Oz! Glad I caught you. Wait, where’s your car? Did you walk here from town?”
I flapped my hand as if walking up the snowy mountain was no big deal. “Nah. Just walked from the turn. My car and I are having a disagreement about living on a mountain in winter. Right now, the car is winning.”
Bennett jogged down the few stairs to crane his neck down the drive. “Shit. You want me to help get it unstuck?”
I waved a hand again. “After. Right now, I need something hot to drink. Come on in.”
“You know, we have an old Jeep you can borrow for a while if you want. It’s one we use for off-roading in the summer, so it’s not fancy. But it has four-wheel drive and the heater still works. Our buddy Russ uses it sometimes during the winter, but he just got called down to Florida for a family emergency. Said he’s going to stay there while his mom has a hip replacement.”
I sighed. “Yeah. Okay, that would be great, if you don’t mind. I might have to take a trip to Denver and find another car to rent for the rest of the winter.”
“Nah. You can use the Jeep as long as you need. Russ does furniture repair out of a workshop behind his house. Even when he gets back to town, he probably won’t need the Jeep as much as you will. And you’re only here for a little while anyway.”
He was right, of course, but the reminder stung a little now that I’d met the nice women at the clinic and had a community project to work on. I liked the town of Haven and could see why people chose to live there.
Once we’d shucked off coats and boots, I offered him a seat while I turned on the coffee maker and let Boo outside.
“What brings you to the Great Beyond? Missed the wilderness?” I asked with a grin. “In-town living got you down?”
Bennett’s cheeks, pink from the cold, stretched in a grin of his own. “Hell, no. Seeing the snow drifts up here is bringing back memories of what it was like when we spent one Christmas here before moving into town. Now, at least, we’re able to walk places when the snow gets too deep. Oh, that reminds me, you know we’re supposed to get a cold snap over the next few days, right? Subzero temperatures overnight and dangerous wind chills. You’ll need to minimize how much time you spend outside, so no more walking up mountains. If you want, you could come stay with us–we have plenty of room.”
Cold snap?
It was going to get colder?
Part of me was tempted to take Bennett up on his offer, but I quelled the instinct. Like everyone, I enjoyed some pampering now and then… and heat that came out of the vents at more than a trickle. But supermodel Laird wasn’t here while up-and-coming fashion design phenom Oz was, and he was going to kick Colorado’s ass just like he was going to kick Cocci Borroni’s ass at Fashion Week.
Right after he stopped mentally talking about himself in the third person.
The designer’s cruel response to my whispered admission about one day wanting to design clothes instead of model them rang through my ears. Pretty, pretty Laird, always trying to prove to everyone you’re more than a pretty face. Just accept it, darling. You are what you are. Something nice to look at. Like a live mannequin.
No, I needed to remember why I was here. I shot Bennett a smile I wasn’t feeling.
“Nah, I’ll be fine. I’ll just plan to stay home whenever I’m not at the clinic.”
Home.
I looked around the small space and thought about how little it looked like home to me. But I’d come up with a plan for that. Before going to the grocery store, I’d stopped in at a couple of antique shops, a thrift store, and a hardware store. Haven offered slim pickings in the area of decor, but I was excited about what I’d managed to stuff into my tiny car. I had big plans to decorate my nest before hunkering down and getting to work on my designs.
“Well, if you change your mind, just come on down,” Bennett said.
After letting Boo back inside, I poured our coffee and found a couple of cookies in a tin to offer along with it. Boo had quickly decided Bennett’s looked like as good a lap as any and had already made herself at home on it. The man’s hands found her mane immediately and began stroking it. The dog preened under his attentions. I wanted to smile at the fact that she seemed to adore everyone except for Jake.
Damn, why wouldn’t that asshole just stay the hell out of my head?
“Sorry I don’t have anything fancier,” I offered. “The groceries are still halfway down the mountain.”
Bennett laughed. “Thanks, this is fine. I can’t really stay long anyway. I actually stopped by because Xander, Lucky, and I wanted to invite you to our place for Thanksgiving next week. We’re having a big meal with a few friends, and it would make us really happy if you joined us–for Christmas too. Aiden and Ash are flying in from New York for the wedding at Christmas, and I know they’d love to see you.”
Aiden was my agent and had been instrumental in getting me the cabin for the winter. He hadn’t told me much about Xander and Bennett other than that he and Bennett had gone to college together and had been friends for a while. I’d only met Aiden’s boyfriend, well, fiancé now, briefly but I’d gotten the sense that the young man hadn’t had an easy time of it. I knew Aiden, and Ash by extension, would keep my real identity a secret, since Aiden knew what I was trying to accomplish by being out here.
I mulled over the fact that this would be the first time in years I hadn’t spent Thanksgiving with Zoey. I’d planned to just spend the day holed up in the cabin working, but with so much of my fabric having gotten ruined by the fireplace incident a few days earlier, I was out of luck until the new material arrived. Not to mention that being out and about even for a little while today had proven that I needed the social intera
ction. If I didn’t go somewhere, I’d stay in and feel sorry for myself all day.
“I’m not sure about Christmas because my friend Zoey is coming into town, but I would love to for Thanksgiving. Can I bring anything?”
We spent the next half hour chatting about Haven. He told me more about the wilderness adventure company he ran with Xander and about their teenage son, Lucky. When it was time to wrap up the visit, Bennett was kind enough to help me get my car back up the hill and unload the groceries before driving me back down to Haven to pick up the Jeep.
Driving the big-ass old Jeep with a stick shift was a challenge I hadn’t been prepared for, so I decided to stay in town for dinner and drown my sorrows while trying to get up the nerve to drive the beast up the mountain. Shortly after stripping a few gears, I managed to park the damned thing and found myself at the crowded bar of the Mustache Tavern. As soon as I saw the giant moose head with a fake twirly mustache hanging over the bar, I knew exactly how the place had gotten its name.
“What’ll ya have?” the bartender asked with a big, deep voice. He looked to be about my age but was huge like a burly mountain man. Thank god, he didn’t have a mustache like the moose above his head. Unfortunately, he also looked straight as an arrow.
Shame.
“I don’t suppose you have apple martinis?” The man looked at me liked I’d asked him to serve me leprechaun piss, so I raised my voice above the chatter around me and quickly amended, “I’ll take a pint of whatever local lager you recommend.”
Once the man had turned to pour my beer, I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Oz, come join us!”
It was Becky from the clinic, and she was gesturing toward a large table of women sharing several platters of appetizers. My initial gut reaction was to decline. I didn’t want one of them to recognize me and make a big deal of my presence. But then I realized that since cutting off my hair, no one had given me any hint of recognition. Maybe I could allow myself to make some more new friends like Zoey had suggested.
