by Cindy Kirk
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 Mitzi.
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. 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 Adrianna and Tripp.
Tripp nodded and smiled and Adrianna 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. 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 Adrianna 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.
Adrianna and Mitzi looked at each other then shook their heads.
“Ryan never came to church before Betsy,” Adrianna 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. 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 time the doorbell 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,” Adrianna 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.
“Go Blue for a Cure?” Adrianna pulled her brows together, her emerald eyes puzzled.
“Cassidy mentioned it at the last Jackson After-Hours event,” Lexi, a local social worker with a dark chin-length bob, interjected. “She mentioned it again when the girls and I stopped by her salon a few days ago for haircuts.”
“I’m as clueless as Adrianna,” Winn said, shooting the nurse midwife a charming smile.
Mitzi had been relieved that Winn had taken a seat at the other end of the table. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who realized they weren’t a good fit.
“It’s a fund-raiser,” Mitzi said, when no one jumped in to answer. The purpose was near and dear to an orthopedic surgeon’s heart. “The majority of the money will go to fund osteogenic sarcoma research. A portion will go to Ariela Svehla’s parents to help with her medical expenses.”
Last month Mitzi had been forced to amputate the girl’s left leg midthigh in an attempt to eradicate the cancer that threatened her young life.
“Ariela’s father is a bricklayer with Stone Craft.” Sympathy filled Keenan’s eyes. “Nice guy.”
“The way it works is participants get people—sponsors—to donate money,” Mitzi continued. “For those donations, participants are required to color or highlight their hair some shade of blue.”
“An excuse to be wild and crazy.” Tripp grinned. “Count me in.”
“How often do we get the opportunity as adults to do something like this?” Lexi’s husband, Nick, was a prominent attorney with a large family law practice in both Jackson Hole and Dallas. In recent years, he and Lexi spent more time in Jackson Hole, with him commuting whenever necessary.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to dye your hair blue, Delacourt.” Winn sounded shocked. “Your high-profile clients will hardly appreciate seeing the man they chose to represent them looking like some punk rocker.”
Nick laughed good-naturedly. “They’ll understand, once I tell them the reason. I might even get more sponsors.”
Sensing Nick had made up his mind, Winn turned to Mitzi. “You’re going to do it?”
“Absolutely,” Mitzi responded without hesitation.
“Well, count me out.” Winn straightened his Hermès tie. “I am, however, willing to make a sizable donation to the cause.”
Mitzi reached down, grabbed a sponsor sheet from her purse and shoved it in front of him. “Put your money where your mouth is, Ferris.”
Looking pained, Winn pulled out his Montblanc.
Once the breakfast ended, those who didn’t have to run to the church to pick up kids stood talking outside the café. It was as if, Mitzi thought, they were reluctant to leave behind the friendship and camaraderie they’d enjoyed inside.
Winn rushed off, mentioning an important conference call. Mitzi wondered if it was an excuse. Perhaps he thought she’d attempt to convince him that blue was his color. Her lips curved up in a smile. The guy really needed to loosen up.
“What kind of person sets up a conference call for Sunday morning?” someone asked.
“I’m thinking he was afraid.” Mitzi tossed her head, a sly smile on her lips. “Afraid I’d convince him to go blue.”
“You’ve got to give the guy credit.” Keenan chuckled and rubbed his chin. “He recognizes the power of Mitzi.”
Chapter Fifteen
Since they’d parked in the same vicinity, it seemed natural for Mitzi to fall into step beside Keenan when the group dispersed.
“Got big plans for the day?” She kept her tone conversational, one friend to another.
“Thought I’d head over to Yellowstone. We won’t get many more days like this.” His gaze lifted to the clear blue sky before dropping to fix on her. “Ryan mentioned last week I could borrow his kayak. With Nate sick, he and Betsy won’t be using it today.”
He reached around her and opened the car door she’d just unlocked. “You should come with me.”
Mitzi started to say no, but stopped herself. A friend had invited her to do something she enjoyed on her day off. Why was she hesitating? If their friendship stood any chance of flourishing, she had to quit being so hypervigilant. And there was no better time to start than now.
Hours later, when the bright afternoon sun had begun to droop, Mitzi helped Keenan load the kayak back on the top of the ancient Explorer they’d borrowed from Ryan and Betsy.
Accepting the invitation had been the right decision. They were just two buds enjoying the great outdoors. Laughing. Talking. Splashing. Simple pleasures.
Mitzi took a long sip of water as her “buddy” secured the last strap around the bright orange boat. From the smile on Keenan’s lips, he’d enjoyed the day, too.
After spending most of her life needing to be the one in charge, it had been surprisingly pleasant to sit back and let Keenan steer them expertly around boulders and a few heart-thumping logjams.
“I never thought anything named Bitch Creek could be so beautiful,” she said, thinking of the breathtaking basalt canyon they’d floated through this afternoon.
“I’m glad the route worked out.” Keenan raked a hand through damp hair, reminding her how he looked when he’d stepped out of the shower at the B and B. Ruggedly handsome. All male. “Normally at this time of year it’s too shallow to negotiate. The creek is fed by runoff.”
“You know your way around a kayak.” Mitzi cast him an admiring glance before taking another long pull from the water bottle.
When she noticed him watching her, she thrust the bottle in his direction. “Be my guest.”
Keenan drained the rest in one gulp. When he caught her staring, he grinned sheepishly. “I was thirsty.”
“I’d never have guessed.” Even as Mitzi spoke, her gaze dropped back to his mouth. All afternoon she’d done her best to keep her focus off those talented lips. Now she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away.
His smile faded. An arousing intensity replaced the teasing glint in his eyes.
Keep it light, Mitzi told herself. “I was wondering if you’d mind stopping at the store when we get back into town.”
He blinked. “Store?”
“The market.” She would.not.look.at.his.lips. “I need to pick up a few things for the coming week.”
“Sure.” He rocked back on his heels. “No problem.”
After stowing the Explorer and the kayak back in his sister’s garage, they dropped his Impala off in front of the boardinghouse. The spark of pleasure in his eyes when she tossed him the keys to the BMW made Mitzi glad she’d made the gesture.
On the edge of town, Keenan pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store he’d frequented as a kid. Though he hadn’t been interested in going to the market, neither had he been ready for this day with Mitzi to end.
When they’d dropped off his car and she’d tossed him the keys to hers, he knew she was inviting him to spend the night. Since he’d be working tomorrow at her place, he didn’t need his vehicle.
“This shouldn’t take long,” Mitzi told him as the automatic doors at the front of the store slid open.
“I’m in no hurry.” It felt natural to walk beside her, to stroll up and down the aisles with her while she grabbed milk, yogurt and a carton of eggs. Natural to talk and joke with the older woman standing behind them as they waited in the checkout lane. Natural to simply be with Mitzi.
Twenty minutes later, Keenan walked out into the warm evening air, a sack of groceries in one arm and the most beautiful woman in Jackson Hole at his side. Life didn’t get much better.
“Dr. Sanchez?”
The feminine voice had them both turning. Keenan didn’t recognize the middle-aged woman with the tightly curled hair and silver-rimmed glasses, but Mitzi’s smile widened. She greeted the wo
man by name.
After Mitzi performed introductions, Keenan stepped back, listening while the woman updated the doctor on her husband’s “amazing” postsurgical progress.
Before the woman interrupted, Keenan had found himself thinking how easily he could get used to this being his life—doing fun activities with Mitzi as well as enjoying the day-to-day. It was just a pipe dream.
Mitzi had made it very clear—and had continued to make it clear—what she wanted and didn’t want in a man, what she expected and didn’t expect from him specifically. His focus needed to be on his own future. Until he reached the goals he’d set, he had little to offer the successful doctor.
Nothing...except his heart.
And he’d learned long ago, that wasn’t worth much.
“Got it. Five-thirty. Clippety Do-Dah,” Mitzi said into the phone, a lilt lifting her voice. “See you then.”
Ben looked up from the file of the patient they’d been discussing until Mitzi had silenced him with a wave of one hand to answer her phone. He raised a brow. “That was your important call?”
She grinned. “Keenan and I are getting our hair dyed blue on Thursday.”
Her colleague shook his head, a bemused look on his face. “You’re really going through with it?”
“I have over a thousand dollars in pledges riding on going through with it.” Mitzi waved a hand. “No backing out now. Actually, I’m jazzed about the opportunity to go crazy with color and support a good cause at the same time.”
“What about Keenan?”
“Last I knew he hadn’t hit a thousand yet.” Mitzi pulled her brows together, tried to recall his last update. “More like seven hundred fifty.”
Ben opened his mouth. Shut it. He glanced down at the file and focused on the patient. Ten minutes of discussion later, Mitzi rose to leave.
“One more thing.” Ben motioned her back. “I noticed you and Keenan have been spending a lot of time together.”
“We’re friends.” Mitzi spoke cautiously, wondering just where Ben was headed. Normally he gave her personal life a wide berth.
