No fever. After a harrowing year working in the E.R. during the pandemic, I can guess a person’s temperature by touch.
She shivers and glances at me over her shoulder. “What was that for?”
“Checking your temperature.”
“With your fingers?”
“You’re right. Can’t tell for sure with fingers.” I can tell with my fingers, but she doesn’t know that and an excuse to get closer to her is suddenly too tempting to resist. Leaning in, I brush her hair to one side before bending to press my lips to the column of her throat.
She sucks in a breath, and my chest goes tight.
God, her skin is as soft as I remember, soft and warm, smelling of shampoo and spiced apple lotion and Lark, the most honest and mysterious and addictive scent in the world.
In the past four years, I’ve dreamt about this smell dozens of times. Now, here I am, with my lips on Lark’s bare skin and the smell of her making my head spin, and I can’t resist just one more kiss.
And another…
And another…until she makes a soft, pained sound and spins away.
“Is that how you treat all of your patients?” she asks, her voice shaking. She’s scowling, but her breath is coming faster, making me hope I’m not the only one affected by the chemistry between us.
“Only the ones I really like,” I joke, hoping to lighten the moment, but her scowl deepens.
“Oh yeah? And how many of those have there been?”
My smile slips. “I was joking, Lark. I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just—”
“No, I know there must have been someone.” She hitches her chin up, the way she does when she knows I’m not going to like what she has to say. “Probably a lot of someones. You were gone for four years, Mason. Don’t tell me you didn’t date anyone the entire time you were gone.”
“I thought we were talking about doctor-patient relationships,” I say, not wanting to talk about other women. I don’t even want to think about other women.
Lark is the one for me. End of story.
She shrugs. “Well, now we’re talking about boy-girl relationships.”
I nod, buying myself some time. Obviously she isn’t going to let this go. I was hoping to have at least one more low key date before we started talking heavy stuff, but if she wants answers then I’m prepared to give them to her.
“Okay,” I say, propping my hands low on my hips. “I’ll talk about boy-girl relationships and anything else you want to talk about. Get your swim suit on and we’ll talk while we catch some fish for supper.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “I told you, I’m too sick to—”
“You’re not sick.”
Her eyes narrow. “You don’t know that.”
“I know you don’t have a fever, and you haven’t had to use that tissue a single time since your first dramatic nose wipe.”
“Dramatic—” Lark’s eyebrows shoot up. “Are you calling me a liar?”
I lift my hands in the universal sign of surrender. “I’m not calling you anything. I just know you’re not sick, and I really want to take you fishing.”
“No, you are calling me a liar. I’m not stupid, Mason,” she says, but she doesn’t sound nearly as outraged as the old Lark would have. The old Lark took great pride in her honesty. “If you’re going to insult me, at least have the guts to own it.”
“All right.” I step closer, bracing my hands on the door on either side of her face, trapping her within the circle of my arms. She tilts her head back, her lips parting in a way that has me dying to kiss her all over again. Instead, I whisper, “Unless I’m sorely mistaken, you’re lying about being sick in order to get out of going on a second date with me. But the real question is…why? What are you afraid of?”
She huffs. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Really?” I prod gently. “It’s okay to be afraid. I’m afraid all the time. The trick is not to let fear keep you from enjoying the good stuff.”
The skin between her brows wrinkles. “But is this the good stuff?”
I lean closer, until I can feel her breath on my lips and my entire body starts to hum. “I certainly think so. Nothing makes me happier than being with you.”
“Nothing?” she echoes in a breathy whisper.
“Nothing,” I assure her.
Her gaze flicks from my eyes to my mouth, and her tongue slips out to wet her lips, making things low in my body twist. God, how I want to taste her, to pull her so close her breasts are pressed tight to my chest and her—
“You have to go, Mason,” Lark says, her words ice water poured down the back of my shirt.
I flinch. “What?”
“You have to go. I can’t do this. I can’t…” She swallows hard and shakes her head. “I thought I could, but I just want to enjoy my vacation. And I can’t do that with you showing up every day making me feel all…” Her eyes squeeze closed. “I just can’t, okay?”
“Making you feel all what?”
“No.” She shakes her head again, her eyes still closed.
“Please, Lark,” I beg. “If you don’t tell me what you’re feeling, how can I help you feel better?”
“I don’t need you to help me,” she says. “I just need you to go.”
My throat tightens. “But I thought we had a good time last night.”
“We did have a good time.” She rakes a clawed hand through her hair. “Too good a time, and I went to bed feeling sad and alone for the first time since I finally accepted you weren’t ever coming back.” She lifts her eyes, her gaze filled with pain I put there. “It took over a year to stop hurting all the time, Mason, and I can’t… I can’t forget that, even if I wanted to, and I’m not sure I do.”
I nod, though I secretly wish I could make us both forget.
“I’m stronger and smarter than I used to be,” she continues. “I can take care of myself and other people and I don’t have to call my boyfriend to see what he thinks every time I need to make a decision.”
I frown. “You never—”
“Yes, I did, and we both know it,” she says, her tone gentler than it was before. “And that’s okay. I was just a kid when we started dating. I needed someone to lean on. But I don’t need that anymore. Now, people lean on me, and I don’t want to give that up to become some starry eyed kid in love all over again.”
I stare hard at her, into her, but she doesn’t blink or look away. She’s telling the truth. She honestly believes this isn’t going to work, no matter what I do to try to convince her otherwise.
I suppose most men would take that at face value, count their losses, and slink off somewhere to lick their wounds in private, but I’m not most men.
Uncle Parker was certain I’d never make it through medical school. In his eyes, my failure was confirmed before classes even started. But I refused to accept my uncle’s bleak vision of my future, and I refuse to accept Lark’s, either.
Not until I’ve given this everything I’ve got.
I can make her happy, I know I can, if she’ll just give me the chance.