by Cindy Kirk
While she may have made it clear at the beginning of the relationship she only wanted to be friends, she hadn’t been vigilant during the course of their time together.
Mitzi wouldn’t make the same mistake with Keenan. She’d be alert for any signs that he might be getting the wrong idea about their “friendship.”
The doorbell rang and Mitzi scrambled to her feet. She took a moment to dress, tug on her boots and freshen her lipstick before sashaying to the front door to greet Keenan.
* * *
Keenan couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so much. After a dinner of barbecued brisket with Kathy Randall’s peach pie for dessert, he and Mitzi gave in to pressure and agreed to a game of charades.
Keenan smiled. Bill and the other married guys he worked with were always teasing him about his “wild” single life. He could only imagine what they’d think if he told them he’d followed an evening of playing cards with a hot night of charades.
Hailey ran the game, which pitted girls against guys. Keenan, Tripp and Frank were on one team with Anna, Mitzi and Kathy on the other. The teams were evenly matched with each enjoying its share of success.
“We won!” Mitzi shrieked at Anna’s correct answer and pumped her fist in the air. Kathy and Anna exchanged high fives and shot smug smiles to the men.
Frank turned to his son, looking disgusted. “We should have gotten that last point. I don’t know how I could have made the clues any more obvious.”
Tripp shrugged. “Can’t win ’em all.”
But Keenan could tell Tripp was as upset by the loss as his father. It was easy to see where his friend had inherited his competitive streak.
Tripp helped his wife up from the sofa. While her pregnancy didn’t show, his friend had been overly solicitous all evening. “We’re going to call it a night. Anna and I have early appointments tomorrow.”
“Likewise.” Mitzi rose. “My schedule the next few days is murderous.”
Keenan helped Tripp and Frank rearrange the furniture that had been scooted together for the game. He kept his face impassive, wondering if Mitzi’s words had been for his benefit. Was that her way of telling him not to call, not to expect to see her for the next few days?
She needn’t have wasted her breath. Keenan had no intention of running after her. Even when he was a boy, he hadn’t chased girls. They’d come to him.
Or...they hadn’t.
Keenan had enjoyed the evening. The only downer was the loving way Tripp and Hailey interacted with their mother brought some not-so-fond memories of his own mother to the surface.
But he had gotten something of value from living in her household. Gloria had taught him—through words and example—that if he put his heart out there, it’d get stomped on. She’d stomped on his repeatedly until he smartened up and realized she didn’t care. Not about Betsy. Not about him.
It had been a valuable lesson. One he needed to keep in mind, especially where the capricious Dr. Sanchez was concerned.
Chapter Fourteen
Though Mitzi informed Keenan she was perfectly capable of walking from the car to her porch, he insisted on accompanying her to the front door.
She wondered if he expected her to invite him in. If that was his plan, he was setting the stage properly, acting friendly but cool since leaving the Randall ranch. But she saw the desire in his eyes and wasn’t fooled. The fact that he smelled terrific wasn’t going to change her mind, either.
But she had reconsidered her earlier decision to forgo a good-night kiss. What harm would there be in two friends exchanging a kiss at the door?
The air had taken on a slight chill, but Mitzi reveled in the breeze against her warm cheeks. Just having Keenan so close in the car, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his cologne, remembering the way his body had fit so perfectly against hers, had set her blood to boiling.
Just one little kiss, she decided. To take the edge off.
She shoved the key into the new lock with fingers that trembled slightly, her heart already beginning to race with anticipation. The man certainly knew how to kiss. And the things he could do with his tongue.
Her knees went weak, remembering.
Yet when she turned back to Keenan, she found him a good two feet away.
He smiled, flashed those straight white teeth in an easy grin. “I had fun tonight.”
She paused, suddenly unsteady. It was as if she’d known exactly where she was headed, only to have him change the path at the last second.
“I did, too. I’d never played charades before.” Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his lips. Dear God, could she be any more obvious?
“You’re smart.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, rocked back on his heels. “Intelligent people excel at charades.”
Mitzi didn’t feel smart now. She wanted him to kiss her, but obviously she wasn’t making her feelings clear. Still, how much more obvious could she be? Grabbing his shirt and pulling him to her seemed a bit dramatic, especially when all she wanted was a simple peck on the lips.
As her frustration soared, Mitzi acknowledged a peck on the lips wasn’t going to cut it tonight. She wanted one of the kisses from last night, the kind where their mouths fused, where his tongue slipped past her lips and stroked, reminding her of what he’d felt like inside her.
To her horror, she felt herself go damp as an ache of longing settled between her thighs.
“Stay for a—” she found herself saying, but it was too late.
Keenan was already pulling his car door open, then offering a careless wave as he backed out.
Mitzi could only plaster a smile on her lips, lift a hand in goodbye...and yearn for the kiss she hadn’t received.
* * *
The next few days were so busy there wasn’t time for Mitzi to dwell on the fact that Keenan hadn’t kissed her good-night. By the time she got home, the workmen—including Keenan—had gone. Only Bitty was there to greet her.
This Saturday was her day to give something back to the community that had become her home. Mitzi and the other doctors in the practice had volunteered to work brief shifts in the medical tent at a local “Harvest Fun Run.” Anticipating sprained ankles and injured knees, she almost swallowed her tongue when Keenan walked in with Joel and Gabe. All sported multiple stings. Apparently a hornet’s nest, hidden in a large tree not far from the starting line, had fallen.
Thankfully the three had arrived late and were the only runners affected.
As two PAs assessed Joel and Gabe, Mitzi took care of Keenan. His handsome face had several stings but his arms exhibited the most welts.
For the first few minutes, she was all doctor—getting his allergy history, checking for signs of respiratory distress, cleaning an oily residue from his arm and face before removing remaining stingers with the flat edge of a scalpel.
Mitzi knew hornet stings contained acetylcholine, a neurotransmitter that helped transmit pain signals to the brain. Surprisingly, Keenan didn’t seem that uncomfortable. She gently placed an ice pack on his arm. “On a scale of one to ten, where would you place your current pain level, if one is no pain and ten is the worst?”
“Right now it’s a four.” Keenan repositioned himself on the bench, winced when his arm shifted beneath the ice pack. “It was close to a seven when we ran into Bill on our way here. He got some WD-40 out of his truck and sprayed the areas where we were stung.”
Mitzi had heard of the folk remedy but had never known anyone who’d used it. “I wondered about the oily substance on your arm.”
“It sounded weird to me,” Keenan said with a sheepish grin. “But when Bill said his granny swore by it, we decided to give it a try.”
“Well, the home remedy appears to have worked.” Mitzi smiled and gently repositioned the ice bag.
“Yo
u have good hands.”
When she looked up, her gaze met his. Memories flooded back. A cozy room. Rain pitter-pattering on the roof. The feel of Keenan’s warm flesh against her...
“I’m not the only one. You have good hands, too,” she murmured in a low tone.
His lips quirked in a grin.
For a second she basked in the warmth of his smile.
They’d shared so much. In the short time she’d known him, Mitzi had come to consider Keenan a close friend. She thought she knew everything there was to know about him. But today had shown her she’d been wrong. “I didn’t realize you were a runner.”
“I’m not.” He shrugged. “Stone Craft is one of the sponsors. Joel thought it was important we participate. I thought it’d be fun. I didn’t count on hornets making an appearance.”
“What are you doing this evening—?” she impulsively began.
“Keenan.” Gabe paused at the entrance of the tent. “Joel and I aren’t about to let a few oversized wasps keep us down. We’re going to finish the race. You coming?”
“You bet.” Keenan rose, gave Mitzi’s shoulder a squeeze. “Thanks, Doc. I’ll be seeing you.”
“Yeah,” Mitzi managed to mumble. “I’ll see you around.”
“Wow,” one of the nurses said to Mitzi as Keenan strode out. “He sure is hot. Who is he?”
Keenan disappeared from view and Mitzi resisted the urge to sigh. “A friend. A good friend.”
* * *
On Sunday, Keenan dressed for church and told himself he’d done the right thing by keeping his distance from Mitzi. Though he’d accepted her apology and she seemed to enjoy riding horses with him, during the evening at the Randall ranch he’d sensed her distancing herself from him. Keenan got the feeling if he pushed for more closeness, she’d pull all the way back.
That he wouldn’t allow to occur. While he might not be looking for anything serious—and she’d made it perfectly clear she sure as heck wasn’t—he didn’t want her to break all ties. So he was giving her breathing room, time to realize she wasn’t the only one committed to keeping things light.
Yet, every night when five o’clock rolled around, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from lingering just a little longer than everyone else, hoping to run into her.
Having their paths cross in the medical tent at the race had been a stroke of good luck. It had been an extra bonus that she’d been the one to tend to his wounds.
Her touch had been gentle, her eyes filled with such compassion, he’d been tempted to ask if he could buy her dinner as a gesture of thanks. But wariness still lurked in those blue depths, so he’d kept his mouth shut.
He paused at the stoplight several blocks from the church and gazed down at the brown pants and the cream-colored shirt he’d picked up at the big-box store where he and Mitzi had once “shopped” for samples.
Betsy had urged him to come to church today, told him she missed seeing him. How could he refuse?
He’d already agreed when she mentioned going out for breakfast after the service. Apparently Sunday breakfast at The Coffee Pot was practically a tradition among their group of friends.
Is Mitzi part of the group that meets? he wanted to ask, but kept his mouth shut. Though he didn’t like keeping things from his sister and her husband—who was one of his closest friends—neither did he want them speculating about his relationship with the pretty doctor.
Besides, he and Mitzi didn’t have a relationship. They were simply friends.
Friends who’d slept together.
The sex had exceeded his wildest expectations. Of course, because he’d been celibate for the past three years, any sex might seem phenomenal. But Keenan suspected it had been so extraordinary because of the connection he and Mitzi shared. Though he wasn’t about to put his heart out there to get stomped on, he liked knowing he was capable of feeling close to someone.
By the time Keenan parked and entered the small white church, everyone was standing for the first hymn. He glanced over the crowd but couldn’t pick out Betsy and Ryan. For a brief moment, he considered grabbing a seat in the back until he saw the last three or four pews held parents and their young children.
The next couple of rows were filled with teenagers. Even if there had been room, no way was Keenan sitting there. Thankfully he noticed what appeared to be a single space at the end of a pew halfway down the aisle. As the congregation headed into the final refrain, Keenan made a dash and slipped into the space.
The smile he’d placed on his face froze when Mitzi turned. Her eyes widened and she juggled the hymnal in her hands. On the other side of her sat Anna and Tripp.
Tripp nodded and smiled and Anna mouthed a welcome. But Keenan couldn’t keep his eyes off Mitzi. “What a nice surprise.”
“I didn’t know you went to church here,” she whispered.
“I don’t,” he responded in an equally low tone. “Betsy texted me last night—”
An older woman in front of him turned and fixed her sharp-eyed gaze on him. Though it had been fifteen years, Keenan recognized the winged, silver-rimmed glasses and no-nonsense expression. It was Mrs. Applebee, his biology teacher in eleventh grade. “Shh.”
It wasn’t a warning, but a command.
Beside him, Mitzi chuckled, but Keenan wasn’t so cavalier. He’d had plenty of experience being on the bad side of this specific teacher’s wrath. Feeling sixteen again, he fixed his gaze on the hymnal and shut his mouth.
The service went quickly. The building was familiar, the inside not so much. He’d dropped Betsy off here every Sunday when she was growing up. Gloria always partied extra hard on Saturday nights and often had men sleep over. The way he saw it, the less his sister was exposed to Gloria and her hungover friends, the better.
While Bets was doing the Sunday-school thing, he’d shoot baskets at the elementary school just down the road. The only time Keenan had gone to church was if Betsy had been in a program. He’d felt it important she had family in the audience.
Whenever Gloria had been on the wagon, she’d come along. Keenan could count that number of times on one hand.
He pulled his thoughts back to the present as everyone rose for the closing hymn. By the time the song ended and the minister did the benediction, he still hadn’t spotted his sister. The phone in his pocket buzzed just as the service ended.
Though he wanted to pull it out and check for a text, Keenan wasn’t sure of the proper protocol while in the sanctuary. Was it okay to check and send texts? Read email?
It seemed as if it should be. After all, it wasn’t as if he’d be talking on the phone and disturbing those around him. But Mrs. Applebee’s earlier censuring gaze told Keenan he’d be taking a risk by pulling out the phone.
“I didn’t expect to see you here.” Tripp leaned around Anna to shake his hand. “Glad you came.”
“Betsy asked if I’d meet her and Ryan this morning.” Keenan’s gaze scoured the faces streaming down the aisle. “Have you seen them?”
“I haven’t,” Tripp said.
Anna and Mitzi looked at each other then shook their heads.
“Ryan never came to church before Betsy,” Anna commented. “He’d simply show up at The Coffee Pot for breakfast.”
Mitzi’s nod confirmed the fact.
“Betsy did say something about getting together for breakfast.” Keenan rubbed his chin.
“Join us.” Tripp clapped Keenan on the back. “Try the Western omelet. Can’t be beat.”
Fifteen minutes later, Keenan found himself at a back table surrounded by longtime friends. Mitzi chose a seat across from him, rather than by his side. But that was okay. His position gave him a good view of the front door. This way he could easily spot Betsy and Ryan.
There were several empty seats at the end of the table and each t
ime the door bell jingled, Keenan looked up to see if it was his sister. By the time everyone had ordered and Betsy and Ryan still hadn’t showed up, Keenan texted her.
Her reply came swiftly back. He frowned.
“I hope nothing is wrong,” Mitzi murmured.
“They forgot about meeting me.” Keenan read the text again then shoved the phone back into his pocket. “Nate is throwing up.”
“Gastroenteritis is going around,” Kate tossed out, reminding him there were no private conversations at the table. “Our waiting room was full all week.”
“He’s so small.” Keenan thought of the toddler with the fearless grin.
The pediatrician reached over and gave Keenan’s hand a slight squeeze. “Your nephew should weather this illness without any problem. He’s a strong, healthy boy.”
“And Betsy is a good mother,” he heard Mary Karen Fisher say.
If anyone should know mothering, it was MK. A nurse with five little ones, she somehow managed to always look as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
“It’s amazing how good Betsy is with Nathan.” Keenan lifted his coffee mug, thought of Gloria. “Considering she had such a poor example to follow.”
“My parents weren’t very demonstrative affection-wise,” Anna said softly. “I’m determined to be more openly affectionate with our little one.”
Tripp looped an arm around his wife’s shoulder. “You’ll be a fantastic mother.”
“Being a parent is a demanding job,” Benedict said from across the table, his hand curved around his wife’s. Seated in an infant seat in the chair next to her, their baby boy slept, dressed in a white-and-blue sailor outfit. “But a rewarding one.”
“Is anyone else going to participate in the Jaycees’ ‘Go Blue for a Cure?’” Though Mitzi’s comment may have appeared to come out of left field, there was only so much talk about babies she could take.
