That special someone.
I rub my hand down my face, fighting the urge to smile like a lunatic as I sit in my office alone. I pull my phone out and click on my messages, where my thumb hovers over Clara’s name.
Before I can type out a message, there’s a knock on my door. Brooks pops his head in. “Got a second?”
“Come in.” I turn my phone off and fold my hands on my desk.
He steps inside, closing the door behind him, and stops on the other side of my desk, the creases in his forehead prominent. “I’m just following up on the patient you asked me about earlier. The one with peripheral artery disease. You said her symptoms are getting worse and restricting blood flow in her legs?”
“That’s correct.” I angle my surface laptop toward him, so we can both read the screen. Searching through the electronic medical records, I find the one we’re talking about. She was my next-to-last patient, so many of her details are still fresh in my mind.
We discuss her prognosis and options, one being surgery to dilate the vessels. After fifteen minutes, Brooks’s phone starts ringing. Before he answers, he says to me, “I agree, surgery is the best way to go. We’ll talk soon.”
I nod, and he exits my office, his iPad tucked under his arm and his phone to his ear like the devices are appendages. He’s tethered to his job like I am mine.
He’s good at it too. It’s why I knew we had to have him, so I started bugging the chief of medicine about Brooks before he completed his fellowship.
Brooks and I crossed paths during my own fellowship, and we immediately hit it off. I knew he’d be a good fit and asset for Sunnyville General.
I rub my temples, needing to wind down. Needing to clear my head of the day and get ready to go home.
Needing Clara.
My hands twitch to touch her again. To hear her soft gasps against my lips. To hold her.
“Fuck,” I mutter, squeezing my tired eyes closed. The image of Clara on top of me replays in my head, ingrained in my brain forever.
I’ve been pining after my best friend since the day I met her as a kid. I didn’t understand anything other than she was pretty, and I wanted to know why she only liked eating the red gummy bears.
Throughout the years, her moving away, my crumbling world from more than just her marriage to someone else, I never thought I’d have her like I did two nights ago.
I fit snugly inside her.
So perfectly inside her.
And I’ll never be the same.
As if my mind pulls a magic trick and conjures her, I get a text from her.
Clara: Are you still at work?
I check the time—almost six o’clock.
Me: Finishing up and heading home. How are you?
Clara: I’m at your house. :)
I fumble with my phone, dropping it on my desk with a clang. “Such a pussy,” I mutter to myself, then type out a response.
Me: You and Jacob?
Clara: My dad took Jacob to pick out a fishing rod. Wants to teach him to bass fish. So, it’s just me.
I sit back in my seat. Terry and I go fishing every once in a while, when we’re able, and suddenly, I picture fishing with Jacob too. The men in his life teaching Jacob to find the shad, throw a line, the difference between bait.
I’m getting ahead of myself.
I glance down as a new message pops up.
Clara: I’ll see you soon?
I log off my surface laptop and stuff my iPad in my bag, checking my desk to make sure nothing is out of order or forgotten. Once everything is in place, I take a deep breath and hurry out of my office.
Patty’s gone for the day, and Tinsley sits behind the front desk alone. Her thick, red-rimmed glasses are perched on the end of her nose like my grandma used to wear hers.
I nod to her. “Good work today. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Where are you off to in such a rush?” She peeks up from the computer.
“Home.” My voice squeaks like a dog’s chew toy. I clear my throat and try again. “I’m going home for the night. You should too. Don’t want your husband thinking I work you too hard.”
“He does. He was thinking I need a raise, and I don’t disagree…” She winks.
“What? You don’t have enough dolls in your collection?”
“Nope. I saw a Shirley Temple doll on eBay that would be perfect, but without that raise, how will I afford it?”
“I guess you’ll have to settle for the four Shirley Temples you already have.” I tap my knuckles on the counter, shaking my head. Today it’s dolls she wants, and tomorrow, it will be a new computer. Next week, we’ll be back to dolls.
“Good night, boss.”
Waving over my shoulder, I make my way out of the clinic to my truck. I open and close my fists around the steering wheel as I drive.
My breaths become more and more labored the closer I get to my house.
Where Clara’s waiting for me.
I spot her SUV in my driveway and park next to it. Jumping out, I notice it’s empty.
“Hey,” she calls out from the porch.
I breathe more easily as I walk toward her. She does this to me—evokes calm and joy without even trying.
Clara stands, my first-aid kit in one hand, her purse in the other. She’s in ripped jeans paired with a light sweater, a casual outfit on anyone else, but on Clara, it’s magnificent.
She smiles when I reach her, and my heart hiccups.
It’s a shy smile, and her cheeks are tinted pink.
It’s adorable.
“Hey.” I dip my head to kiss her cheek, then her soft lips. “I’m so fucking happy to see you.”
“Really?”
“Of course.” I wrap my arms around her waist, inhaling her floral scent. She smells like the flowers planted in her front yard. Fresh and feminine and Clara. “You smell good, and I’m tired of the antiseptic smell of the clinic.”
“So that’s really why you’re happy to see me, then?” She giggles, her warm breath on my neck, shooting blood down south.
“For that and your smile.” I kiss her temple with trembling lips, then unlock my door.
Ushering Clara inside, I cross the dim living room until I reach the kitchen and switch more light on. From the refrigerator, I grab two bottles of water and offer her one as she takes a seat.
“What brings you by?” I ask, leaning over the counter toward her.
“You left this at my place.” She pulls the first-aid kit up and sets it to the side. “I was going to drop it off at your office, but there never seems to be a good time to do so with your crazy schedule.”
“Probably a good thing you didn’t. If you had, I’d have to make you call me Dr. Pearson.” I wink.
She crosses her arms in front of her and leans closer to me, eyeing my lips. She inhales, which makes her breasts push farther up.
My gaze falls there.
“Is that right?” she whispers. “And why can’t I call you Dr. Pearson?”
“Too sexy coming out of your mouth.” I groan, the air around us shifting, and I dip my head even more, so there are only a couple of inches between our lips.
Her cheeks turn red as she watches me, studying me like she’s fascinated.
She swallows slowly, then clears her throat. “About the other night… when we, uh…” She dips her head and shifts in her seat. “You know.”