CHAPTER EIGHT
She crawled toward him, feeling decadent with the fire warming her naked skin. And Dillon’s eyes warming all of her.
He pulled the crispy outer crust off one marshmallow and held it out. She took his finger and thumb between her lips, sucking the toasted sugar onto her tongue and letting it melt in her mouth. She sucked on his fingers, then ran her tongue over the pads of each. He made a soft growling noise that made heat slip from her chest, through her stomach, to settle between her legs. She moved onto his lap, straddling his thighs, putting her breasts right there for him.
Dillon slid the sticky white glob from the end of the stick. He spread the marshmallow over her right nipple with one hand while the other splayed between her shoulder blades and brought her up to his mouth. He licked and sucked until the sugar was completely gone. Or at least, Kit assumed it was gone. She’d lost her mind, and her ability to care about anything but Dillon’s tongue, back around the time he’d said, “Nothing has ever tasted better than your skin.”
She arched closer, murmuring things she hoped sounded encouraging. Because she definitely wanted to encourage him. But wasn’t quite able to make full words.
After sucking more marshmallowy goodness from her other breast, Dillon shifted, and she found herself on her back with her wrists over her head and held in one of Dillon’s big hands.
“I can’t take the time to toast another one, but I’m going to pretend I’ve got one spread out all over the rest of you.” And he proceeded to strip her of her pants—all of them—and her panties. Then he dipped his head to her navel, kissing and swirling his tongue around her belly button, from one hip bone to the other, and then over her mound, finally settling on her clit.
Kit came fast and hard, and before she’d even caught her breath, Dillon shifted over her and between her legs. He looked down at her with a crazy mix of cocky and affection, and Kit was more grateful for snow than she’d ever been in her life.
He started to roll on a condom, evidently having brought them into the tent with him at some point. Kit wanted to just lie back and let him have his way with her. But then it occurred to her that she wasn’t quite done with the marshmallows. Or making Dillon crazy.
She looked up at him. “Lie back,” she said, her voice husky.
He paused. “I’m dying a little here, Doc.”
“Good.” She was sure her smile conveyed every bit of what she was feeling—playful, needy, and naughty.
He let out a long breath. “Okay, I’m giving you five minutes before I need to be inside you.”
That hot, swirly thing that he caused so easily happened, and she almost said, “Never mind.” But Dillon lay back on the blankets, his big, hard body stretched out and all hers. Yeah, she could wait five minutes. Or maybe three and a half.
She reached for a marshmallow and stuck it on the end of a stick. She leaned her chest onto his, stretching to reach the fire. Dillon didn’t ask what she was doing, but he also didn’t just lie there. He reached for a nipple and rolled it, making desire pulse between her legs, and she willed the fire to go faster. Then his other big hand settled on her butt, and his fingers slid lower, between her legs, playing with her, heating her core, making her wiggly and wet and hungry for him.
“Dillon,” she moaned.
One thick finger slid into her, and she dropped her head to his chest, her breathing turning to panting.
“I so want to pull you up here and bury my face in your pussy,” he told her gruffly.
Yeah, she definitely wanted that, too. She started to shift, but then she remembered the marshmallow. She pulled it from the fire and blew on it. She plucked it from the end of the stick, biting into it and exposing the melted center. Then she sat back. “I think you’re going to like this, too,” she told him, her voice breathless.
He watched her, his eyes hot, as she dragged a finger through the melted sugar and then lowered her hand to his cock. She painted the marshmallow along his length and then lowered her head. She’d used her hand on him before, but she’d never done this, and if the taste and feel of him wasn’t enough, the low, growling noise that came from his chest as she touched her tongue to him for the first time was enough to make her never want to move.
She licked, and sucked, and licked again, her tongue gathering every bit of the marshmallow but then continuing to move up and down the hard shaft. She felt his hand thread through her hair, she heard the “Fuck, Kit, your mouth is heaven,” and she knew she wanted to take him all the way like this.
Kit pulled the tip into her mouth, sucking, then moving lower, taking him deeper. Dillon’s thighs clenched, and his fingers tugged on her hair. She moved her hand to cup his balls, stroking her thumb back and forth, and she heard the “Fuck” that sounded ripped from his throat. He lifted slightly, sliding farther into her mouth, but it felt like he was holding back.
She lifted her head. “I want this, Dillon. Please.”
His fingers tightened in her hair again as he stared at her, his mouth open as he breathed raggedly. She stroked her hand up and down his length, squeezing slightly, convincing him.
“You want me to come in your mouth, Kit?” he asked, his voice hot and heavy.
“I do.”
“You want me to fuck the pretty mouth that sasses me and tells me when I’m being a dumbass and says some of the most inspiring things I’ve ever heard? The mouth that’s been making me crazy for twenty years?”
She swallowed hard and nodded. The dirty talk was going to be the death of her.
He let out a rough laugh. “You have any idea how many times I’ve thought of that?”
“Have you?” That thought sent a shaft of heat through her. She’d stayed awake many nights thinking of the ways he made her nuts, but also with plenty of fantasies. The idea that he’d done the same definitely made her hot.
“Babe, give me your mouth.”
Gladly.
He guided her head back down, and she took him in her mouth, pleasuring him with even more determination. She sucked, licked, fondled, and reveled in the noises he made, the way his hips bucked, the way his hand stayed on her head as if holding her to him. But there was no question who was in control here. She wasn’t giving him her mouth; he was giving her his desperate need.
He thrust faster, and she added her hand to the base of his shaft, squeezing and stroking, and soon he was warning her that he was coming. And she just sucked harder.
When he erupted, Kit felt a wave of pleasure that surprised her. It was his orgasm, but the realization that she’d done that to him was an intense aphrodisiac. The sense of power was incredible, but so was the feeling of giving.
After the ripples in his body had quieted, she lifted her head. He was staring at her with wonder, and a desire that didn’t seem to have been quenched.
He tugged on her hair, encouraging her to slide up his body. He locked his mouth on hers, kissing her deeply, his hand cupping her head. They kissed for several long minutes, then he tucked her against his side and sighed.
Kit rested her cheek on his chest, her hand on his stomach, and wondered if there was any way to stay here in this tent in her grandmother’s living room forever. It all seemed easy here. Tomorrow they’d be dug out and would head back to Chance. And it seemed that things were pretty complicated there. How would people react to their being together? How would Abi’s family feel? And how would she and Dillon work together? Everyone was used to them arguing and sparring and one-upping. Would they continue to do that? Just because they’d admitted to having feelings for each other didn’t mean they would always agree. Or even agree often. She and Dillon just did things differently. Or would they finally be over that? And then there was the free-clinic scheduling and staffing and supplies and, of course, paying for it. She and Dillon had been arguing everything from what to call it to if it should be supported by private donations or government grants. And who was going to handle the lobbying efforts needed for the grant support.
And suddenly, she didn’t care.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true, but the details they’d been picking over didn’t seem important. Did it matter what they called it or how they supported it, as long as it was there for the community? She knew—had known all along—that some of their disagreements were truly just because that was their go-to move. If Kit said she thought community support was more important than government funding, then Dillon said he disagreed, partly just out of habit.
But if they did want government support, at the state or federal level, she and Dillon should be lobbying together. They brought expertise on two sides of the medical needs of the community, and they both had connections and impeccable reputations in their fields.
“Stop,” he admonished quietly. Then he yawned.
“Stop what?” she asked, not looking up.
“I can hear your mind working from here. Just relax. It’s all going to be okay.”
She sighed. “You sure?”
“I’m sure that I’ll do whatever it takes to keep getting blow jobs from you. Damn, girl, that was amazing.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled. “The marshmallows made me enthusiastic,” she lied. “I really like toasted marshmallows.”
“Honey, that’s a big can-do. Marshmallows are cheap.”
“You don’t have a fireplace.”
“I’m knocking down a wall and putting one in tomorrow.”
She chuckled. Of course this wasn’t just about blow jobs, but maybe he had a point. How they made each other feel, how they fit together personally—now that they’d admitted it—had to influence how they worked together. It would all be fine.
“Well, in that case, I’m no longer concerned,” she told him.
He yawned again. “And I’m not done with you yet, so rest up.”
The only problem was going to be trying to work while sleep deprived. Kit was actually smiling as she drifted off to sleep.
Dillon woke up with his arms empty.
And that was not okay.
He stretched and glanced at the fire. It had burned down enough that he figured he’d been out for a few hours. He crawled over and stoked it. Then scrubbed a hand over his face. Okay, so where was Kit?
For one, he hadn’t been kidding—he wasn’t done with her. He needed her again. He couldn’t get enough of her.
For another, he fucking hated that she’d run again. Every time in the past, she’d hightailed it away from him the minute she had her panties back on. But he’d thought they were past that now. They were to a whole new point now, a place where they’d finally been totally honest and were on the same page.
The same page. That was a place he and Kit hadn’t spent a lot of time together.
He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and ducked out of the tent. There were only so many places she could be. He’d find her and bring her back in here and make her crazy all over again. And if they needed to start back at square one about how they felt and what was going to happen when they got dug out and back to Chance, then they’d start back at square one.
He should have expected it to go this way. Kit Derby had never made things easy on him. But that was why she was the one for him. When she challenged him, she made him realize what was important to him, what was worth fighting for. And she was worth fighting for.
As he neared the kitchen doorway, he heard her voice. And then a long pause. And then her saying, “I do want it. I just don’t know that I’ve thought of everything. I mean, it seems like it should be fine, but there could be a million things that could go wrong.”
Dillon sighed. He stepped into the kitchen to find her sitting on the floor under the rotary wall phone, the receiver pressed to her ear, the flashlight set on its end, illuminating the area around her like an electric candle.
She looked up at him. “Crap. He’s here,” she said into the phone.
He walked over and squatted in front of her. He took the receiver from her hand and brought it to his ear. “Bree?”
“Hey, Dillon,” Kit’s best friend said.
“I’m going to take Kit back to bed now. She’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.” He could hear Bree’s amusement. “She’s kind of worked up.”
“She wouldn’t be Kit if she wasn’t,” he said.
“I’m on your side, for what it’s worth.”
He appreciated that, but he sighed. “We still have sides, huh?” He was watching Kit the whole time.
She was chewing on the inside of her cheek and looking part sheepish and part annoyed.
“Not sure the world can survive with you and Kit on the same side all the time,” Bree said with a light laugh. “That’s way too much brainpower and drive and being right all tilting the same way. It would throw everything off.”
Even at three a.m. in a freezing-cold kitchen in the near dark, Dillon saw what Bree was saying. And he thought that maybe she was right.
“So then we’re definitely good.”
“Totally good,” Bree agreed.
“Good night, Bree.”
“Sleep tight. Or whatever,” she said, with a touch of glee in her voice that made Dillon smile as he hung up the receiver above Kit’s head. “Let’s go.” He bent and scooped her up into his arms. “You’re going to freeze to death while overanalyzing this thing. How about you wait until tomorrow when you’ve got some heat and coffee?”
“You think I’m overanalyzing it?” But she didn’t fight for him to put her down.
“Of course you are.” He headed for the living room and set her down next to the tent. He held up the one side for her to duck under. She’d pulled on sweats and her hoodie again, and he couldn’t help but wonder how many layers she had on underneath.
As he joined her in the tent, she said, “We’re in a surreal situation here, and everything seems easy and good and possible. But the light of day and real life might have a way of changing things.”
Dillon settled back on the pile of pillows and linked his hands together behind his head. “You realize that we’ve been together in the light of day in real life four billion times, right? I’ll give you that tonight has been unusual, but nothing that we’re thinking or feeling is anything that hasn’t occurred at two p.m. on a bright sunny day in the middle of a hallway in the hospital. It doesn’t get much more real life than that.”
She was worrying her bottom lip, but finally she nodded. “Okay. Let’s have sex.”
He laughed, and couldn’t deny that his cock stirred at the offer, but he knew that she needed something a little more normal than the lose-their-minds-it’s-so-good sex they always had. “How about you just come here?” he asked, extending an arm.
She didn’t even hesitate, which he loved. He pulled her on top of him, her body stretching along his. And yes, his body loved that and wanted far fewer clothes between them, but he put a hand on her head, pressing her cheek into his shoulder, and settled the other on her lower back. He stroked her hair and hugged her close and said nothing. After a few minutes, he felt her relaxing.
As her body melted into his, she sighed. “This is nice.”
It was. And he wanted this just as much as he wanted her beautiful body spread open to him. As much as he wanted her sassy mouth and quick mind and sharp wit across the conference table from him. As much as he wanted her eye-rolling when he was screwing something up. As much as he wanted her big grins and laughter and blushes when he was successfully charming her.
He wanted it all, and he was going to have it. Even if she fought him. Because fighting with Kit was one of his specialties.
They woke up to the sound of Dillon’s phone ringing, the kitchen phone ringing, and the rumbling sound of a diesel engine outside.
Kit was still draped over the top of him, and she was slower to wake up. As she wiggled and stretched, Dillon’s body instantly responded to the feel of her soft curves rubbing against him.
He put both hands on her ass and pressed up into her, trying to ease a bit of the ache. “Morning.”
She brushed her hair back from her face with one hand and blinked at him. “Morning.”
Was she going to freak out? The whole in-broad-daylight thing?
He removed his hands and let his arms drop to his sides. If she wanted to bolt, he’d let her. For now.
But she didn’t bolt. At all. She lowered her head and kissed him. The ringing phones, the engine outside, the everything, faded away as he cupped her head and kissed her back.
Waking up like this for the rest of his damned life was exactly what he wanted.
When had he been so sure about something before? It had been a really long time. He’d felt a definite sense of yes when he’d stepped out of the bus to begin basic training next to his two cousins, his best friends in the world. He’d felt a gut-deep sense of rightness when he’d gotten off the plane in Africa. He’d felt a surge of Hell yeah when his first patient had rolled into the ER in Houston on day one. And he’d felt a contentment clear to his soul when he’d pulled the moving truck that was transporting him and all his possessions into Chance.
But this—kissing Kit in the morning light after talking, playing, and loving all night—beat all of those rolled together. This was where he was supposed to be.
The phone in the kitchen stopped ringing. Then started again.
Kit lifted her head. But did nothing to move her body off his.
“Guess we should get going,” she said.
“Probably.”
She pressed her hips into his. “In a little bit?”
He squeezed her ass. “Or a long bit.”
Their lips had just met again when a loud pounding started on the back door. A moment later, there was a loud whump, and Dillon winced. Whoever had come banging on the door had knocked in the already-kicked-down thing.
“Or maybe we pick this up later,” he said. He gave her a little swat on the butt and then moved out from under her.
“Dammit,” she muttered, but she followed him out of the tent.
By the time Dillon and Kit got to the kitchen, Max and Jake were coming through the door from the front hallway.
They grinned widely. “The cavalry is here,” Max announced.
“How did you get out here?” Kit asked.
“I have some pull with the mayor’s office,” Max said with a wink. “He let me borrow a snowplow.”
Max—and Jake and Dillon—were the mayor’s wife’s first cousins. The guys were also three of Frank Harvey’s favorite people. Hell, they were three of the town’s favorite people. It didn’t surprise Dillon a bit that Frank had let Jake and Max bring the snowplow out here.
“You’re my heroes,” he said drily. If only they’d waited maybe thirty minutes longer.
“Well, the town needs its two best doctors,” Jake said with a shrug. But Dillon could see his cousin taking in every detail of the situation. Namely that he and Kit had come into the room together, were both wearing a strange combination of clothes, and that Kit looked . . . rumpled.
Dillon didn’t know if Jake would find that as adorable as Dillon did, but he was sure his cousin would find it fascinating. No one ever really got to see Kit as anything other than completely polished and put together. And the strangest part here was that she wasn’t fussing with her hair or hightailing it down the hall. She didn’t seem to care that the guys were seeing her this way.
There had been some times after the tornado and during the cleanup that she’d had a smudge of dirt on her face or her hair had been coming out of its ponytail or her boots had been muddy. But that had been par for the course. You couldn’t really clean up a town after an F4 twister without getting a little dirty.
This was different. This was just-out-of-bed rumpled. And more, this was had-hot-sex-all-night, just-out-of-bed rumpled.
Dillon couldn’t help the grin he felt stretching his lips. He liked that look on her because he’d put it there. And he didn’t care who knew it.
“You didn’t even bring doughnuts?” Kit asked. “Or coffee?”
Jake and Max looked at each other and then back to Kit. “Sorry. We should have done that,” Max agreed.
“I’ll let you buy me a cup when we get back to town,” Kit said.
“Deal,” Max said with a nod.
Kit extended her hand. Max looked at it and back up at her. “A ten should cover it,” she said with a smile.
“A ten? Where are you buying coffee?” Max asked.
“I might need more than one.” She glanced at Dillon. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Max chuckled and dug a ten from his pocket. “You don’t want me to take you for coffee?”
Kit plucked the bill from his fingers. “Sure, Max. If you want to sit with me across a small coffee-shop table and talk for an hour or so, I’m game.”
Max’s eyes widened. “Uh, no thanks, Dr. Derby. My noggin is just fine.”
She laughed and turned toward the hallway leading to the bathroom. “Well, you know where to find me.”
“The shower?” Jake quipped.
She looked back at him. “For now, yes. But Dillon’s the only one invited in there. And it won’t be his noggin that I’ll be interested in.” She actually winked. And then disappeared down the hallway.
Max and Jake watched her go, grinning like idiots.
“Hey,” Dillon said, snapping his fingers, “eyes over here.”
They swung to look at him in unison.
“Holy shit, Dillon,” Jake said.
“Yeah, what Jake said,” Max agreed.
Dillon frowned. “What? You knew we were out here together, and Bree had to have told you what happened after she and Kit talked.”
“Well, yeah, we knew you’d gotten her naked,” Jake said. “But . . . damn.”
“What?” Dillon asked again.
“You must have been goooood,” Max said, drawing out the word.
Dillon looked at them, then down the hall where Kit had exited. “Yeah? What do you mean?”
“I’ve never seen Kit look like that,” Max said. “Ever.”
Jake nodded. “Ever.”
“Like what?” So her hair was messy, and she was barefoot, and she’d just admitted to being interested in not-his-noggin. Dillon had to grin. That was . . .
“Cute,” Jake said.
“Tousled,” Max said at the same time. Then he looked at Jake. “Cute. Yeah, that.”
Dillon felt himself nodding. “She is, isn’t she?”
Jake shrugged. “She really is. And all teasing and laughing even though we saw her with her hair messed up? Dude, that’s . . . so not Kit.”
“Careful what you say about her,” Dillon warned.
“He just means that she’s usually so put together.” Max jumped to Jake’s defense. “She’s never . . . messed up, and as far as I know, she only kids around with the girls.”
He liked that, too. Kit loved Bree and Avery. If she was feeling that comfortable with him and his friends . . . that was huge.
Jake went on. “Yeah, there’s a lot about her to really like and admire. But until this just now, she didn’t seem like a—” Jake suddenly stopped.
“Like a what?” Dillon said firmly, crossing his arms.
Max saved Jake again. “A girl to get dirty in the shower,” he said, almost apologetically.
Dillon just stared at the other two men. “Seriously?” How had he always seen her that way? Yes, she gave off all kinds of cool bravado, but the fire in her eyes was clear. The passion in her personality, the fervor when she argued for something she believed in, the flash in her eyes when he disagreed . . .
Yeah, okay, maybe the guys hadn’t seen all that because they hadn’t been on the receiving end of any of it.
“Everyone feels that way?” he asked of the other men in Chance. It was fine by him that he was the only one to see the firecracker behind the composure.
“When she dates, it’s guys from other towns,” Jake confirmed. “Nobody here’s got the balls to tangle with her.”
“Except you,” Max said with admiration. “You’ve always been willing to take her on.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“And I gotta say, it looks good on her,” Jake said, glancing toward the hallway again.
“What does?” Dillon asked.
“That contented, glowing thing.”
“The contented, glowing thing?” Dillon repeated. “She looks different this morning?” And was it okay for him to feel proud of that? It was probably really chauvinistic. But he couldn’t help it.
Both men nodded. “Oh yeah,” was Jake’s answer, while Max gave him a “Definitely.”
Dillon looked down the hallway toward the closed bathroom door. She looked contented this morning. That was something. Something big. Something that made him want to march down that hallway, strip down, and take her from behind while the shower pounded down onto them both.
“Let’s go get the snowmobile dug out,” he said instead.
The guys were here. He needed to check in at the hospital.
And mostly, when he took a shower with Kit for the first time, it was going to be in his own shower. Followed by his bed, his couch, his living-room floor, and his kitchen table. Not necessarily in that order.
He intended to keep that soft, glowing thing going. And going. And going.
The guys were outside when Kit stepped out of the bathroom. She quickly dressed in what she’d worn to the farm yesterday and then cleaned up the house.
She poured the chili into plastic storage bowls and put two in the fridge for her grandma for later, then stored the rest in the freezer. The power had come back on at some point in the night, so she turned things off, put the fire out, reset the digital clocks, put all the clothes she and Dillon had borrowed either back in the closet or in the laundry room with a note, and returned all the blankets and pillows to their rightful places.
It made her a little sad to tear down their fort, and she saved the Chutes and Ladders game until last. They hadn’t gotten far on it, yet it felt like they’d gone a long way.
By the time the guys came stomping back in, declaring the driveway, the path to the barn, and the road passable and the snowmobile ready to go, Kit was ready to leave.
Kind of.
Part of her never wanted to leave. The farmhouse had turned into a haven of sorts, and she was, quite frankly, worried about what the return to town would mean.
“Stop overthinking it,” Dillon said in her ear as she stood by the snowmobile, strapping her helmet on and looking at the house.
She looked up at him. “How did you know?”
“I know you.” He bent and kissed the end of her nose in what was quite possibly the sweetest gesture ever. “But you know me, too,” he said. “And remember—I never give up when I want something.”
He wanted her. Enough to never give up. She pulled in a deep breath. Okay. She could do this happy, in-love thing. Hell, she’d felt it for a long time. The only thing that would be different now was that she could show it. That would be . . . great.
Kit climbed onto the snowmobile behind Dillon and was able to stop worrying about what their new normal would be. Kind of. Instead, with her arms wrapped around him, her body pressed to his, her eyes closed against the sun glinting off the new, bright-white snow, all she could think about was that Dillon had never backed down from something he wanted to accomplish.
And that nagged at her. Was that part of the attraction? That he didn’t have her? He’d been the ungettable one in high school, and she’d told herself that was part of why she wanted him. Now, in retrospect, she knew that wasn’t true. But she couldn’t help but wonder about Dillon. They’d both thrived on taking the other one down. He’d admitted to a lot of emotions, which went back a long way, last night. But it was definitely possible that on some level, dating her, making her fall completely head over heels for him, was another contest that he wanted to win.
They pulled up behind Dillon’s truck, and the guys went to work digging it out. Soon she was perched in the passenger seat again. It was amazing to her that it had been less than twenty-four hours since they’d driven out here together. So much had happened. And changed.
Dillon adjusted the vents to blow on her and turned the truck out onto the highway. It was at least thirty degrees warmer today than it had been yesterday, and with some nostalgia, Kit took the gloves and hat he’d given her yesterday and tossed them behind the seat.
“You want me to drop you at home?” he asked as he pulled the truck onto the highway.
“Where are you going?”
“To the hospital.”
Of course he was. She wanted to check in on Sarah and see if her husband had made it. The highway was cleared of snow, and the sun was shining. No doubt the interstate had been clear early that morning, and Tim was either on his way or already in Chance. But she needed a shower. And her regular clothes. She simply wasn’t her usual composed, I’ve-got-this girl when she was in sweatpants. When she was, she talked about shower sex. Yeah, she needed her pantsuit.
She wasn’t embarrassed about making the crack about sex in the shower to Jake and Max. It was Jake and Max. Very little fazed either of them. But it had definitely been out of character. That had been a laid-back, teasing version of her that neither of those guys had seen before, she was sure.
Bree already knew that she and Dillon had slept together, which meant Max knew. Which meant Jake knew. Which meant Avery knew. And that didn’t really bother Kit. Their friends weren’t the gossiping types—except with one another. But Avery and Bree didn’t know about her and Dillon’s history. She didn’t think Max and Jake did, either. They probably all thought last night was like the storage room at the hospital during the tornado—a spur-of-the-moment thing brought on by adrenaline and close proximity. They didn’t know that it was actually the culmination of years of mixed-up emotions and attraction.
But Kit knew it was time she talked about it with someone. And her two best girlfriends, who were madly in love themselves with men with whom they had long, somewhat complicated histories with, were the perfect ones to understand.
“You can take me to the hospital. My car’s there,” she finally answered Dillon as he pulled up to the stop sign that required a decision of right for the hospital or left for her house.
“We have that meeting at noon,” he commented as he took the right. “What do you have going on before that?”
“I have a couple appointments,” she said. “The first is at nine.” And she needed to see if Bree and Avery were free for coffee before that. She looked at her watch. That didn’t give them much time. Maybe they could have drinks later.
“Well, I’m going to clean up in the locker room,” Dillon said, pulling into his space in the parking lot. “I’ve got stuff all day.” In other parts of the country, thirteen inches of snow would mean a few days off. In the middle of Nebraska, it meant that you’d better have your snow boots and four-wheel drive in gear. Life didn’t stop for a little bit of snow. It was just inconvenienced for a while.
She nodded and reached for the door handle.
“Kit.”
Dillon’s low voice stopped her. She glanced back.
“I want to see you later,” he said.
It wasn’t really a request, and Kit had the fleeting thought that she should mind that. But she didn’t. And she’d have to think about that later.
“Are we taking this public tonight?” she asked, a mix of excitement and trepidation swirling in her chest. Were they going to really date? Show off what they were doing for the whole town?
He looked at her for a long moment, then reached for her as he leaned in. His hand cupped the back of her neck, and he pulled her in for a long kiss. When they separated, he rested his forehead against hers.
“I need to get my hands all over you again as soon as possible. What I have in mind may not be appropriate for public.”
Heat danced through her, and she nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay.” He kissed her again, hard but sweet, and then let her go.
Kit made her way to her car, waiting until he’d disappeared through the sliding doors to the ER before putting her hand over her pounding heart. She hadn’t been this worked up over something in a long time. The last time had been . . . Dillon.
It was always Dillon. Whether she was worked up over their latest argument, or pissed off about something he’d said in a meeting, or annoyed because he’d been right about something she’d disagreed with, or because he’d made some innuendo that had gotten her revved up.
Dillon was the only person, the only thing, that shook her. She didn’t like being shaken. She didn’t like not feeling totally stable. She was the emotional rock of this community.
And that was part of why she’d chosen mental health. She liked being the rock. She did not like being rocked.
Dammit.
And speaking of being the rock . . . She found her phone lying on the front seat of her car. Thank God. She quickly checked her messages. Only one made her worry. Lisa Shear. Her husband, Travis, had been dealing with a lot of issues since the tornado. Travis and Lisa had lost everything—their house, most of their possessions—and he’d sustained a back injury. He’d been making some money working for one of the contractors during the rebuilding, but now that it was winter, he was having a hard time paying his bills. Travis was the kind of guy who could use the free clinic to get through the tough times. They really needed to stop having their freaking meetings and just get the damned thing running.
Kit had been meeting with Lisa first, dealing with her stress and anxiety, but had eventually talked Travis into coming for a few sessions. She was far more concerned about Travis at this point.
The message from Lisa said that Travis had been drinking lately, and they’d been arguing.
Kit called Lisa, wanting to get them in for a session. She was sent to voice mail, and she left a message asking Lisa to call her right away. She also sent a text.
At home, Kit showered and changed into a black pantsuit, sweeping her hair up into a twist on top of her head. But looking in the mirror, she felt something was off. She changed into a red pencil skirt, white blouse, red jacket, and red heels. It was an outfit she wore often and loved. It made her feel in charge. But it wasn’t quite right, either. Which was ridiculous. She needed clothes on. Professional clothes. Period. She didn’t need to look a certain way.
But she went back into her closet anyway. The next thing she put on was perfect. A pair of silky black pants, a peach top, with a multicolored sweater and scarf. And she kicked off her heels and stepped into a pair of flats. Then she pulled the pins from her hair, letting it fall down around her shoulders. When she wore her hair down, she generally straightened it. But today she left in the gentle waves.
She arrived at the hospital feeling good but feeling . . . softer. That was the best way she could describe it. She still felt professional and confident, but she felt happy and upbeat. Almost tipsy. Maybe that was it. Maybe this comfortable feeling was just that she was sleep deprived. From having great sex all night. The endorphins from that were powerful, she knew. That had to be it.
She thought about her friends. Bree and Avery were newly in love. Not like yesterday-in-love, but they were only about six months in. Well, if you didn’t count the ten-plus years of loving Jake and Max without realizing it—or admitting it. And yeah, she could say that they both seemed different. Happier. More content. She needed to pick their brains. Maybe they could get away for lunch. She pulled out her phone. Thank God she’d found it lying on the front seat of her car and it had not turned into an ice cube.
“Are you humming?”
Kit looked up from texting Bree. Megan, the receptionist who handled the front desk for the specialty outpatient wing where Kit’s office was located, was watching her with eyebrows up.
Kit glanced around. There was no one else in the immediate vicinity, but that wouldn’t last long. Her office was alongside the clinic where cardiology, orthopedic, neurology, and pediatric specialists all saw patients on their weekly visit to the hospital. Chance was a small town, but they served a wide area of rural Nebraska. They didn’t have a patient population large enough to support full-time specialists, and even Kit’s practice was part-time, but the access to specialists on a regular basis saved residents from making the two-hour drive to the nearest metropolitan health centers.
Some people questioned why such a little town needed its own psychiatrist, but again, she served a larger geographical area than just Chance, and, frankly, everyone needed mental-health services to be available. She worked in a town that had been ravaged by more tornadoes than anywhere else in the country. The tearing-down and rebuilding process took its toll physically and emotionally on its citizens. Travis and Lisa were a great example. Then there were the people with stress and anxiety, the need for family counseling, grief counseling, as well as diagnosed mental illness. No place was really too small for a solid mental-health program.
“I was humming?” Kit asked.
“You were. And I’m ninety-nine percent sure that you were humming ‘It’s in His Kiss.’”
Kit felt her cheeks heating, then willed her body to not give her away.
Of course, maybe she should stop humming if she didn’t want people wondering what was up with her. She never hummed.
“‘It’s in His Kiss’?” she repeated, and then scoffed. “I barely know that song.”
Megan gave her a strange look, but said, “Okay.”
“But yes, I’m in a good mood this morning,” Kit said. She couldn’t totally deny her sunny disposition, or Megan would be watching extra carefully to try to figure out what was going on. And Kit wasn’t sure she could completely hide that something big had happened. In fact, right at that very moment, she was fighting a smile.
“Yeah, I can see that you’re feeling good today,” Megan said with a nod, watching Kit closely.
“Oh?” Kit said nonchalantly.
“You definitely look different. Kind of . . . soft.”
Kit focused on Megan more fully. “I look soft?”
“Yeah, like you’re just really . . .” Megan shrugged. “Happy. You look happy.”
“And that’s different for me?” Kit asked. But she knew what Megan was getting at.
Kit had strolled down the hallway. She never strolled. She walked with purpose. The clicking of her heels on the tile floors usually gave her a strange feeling of determination. But today, in her soft leather flats, she’d felt lighter. And like strolling. And she’d been humming, evidently.
“You’re just usually super focused and ready to go the second you walk in here.” Megan glanced at the clock. “Of course, you’re usually here early.”
Kit followed her gaze to the ornate clock in the waiting area. And as she noticed it was two minutes to nine, she also noticed Marcia Jackson—her first session of the day. The woman was seeing her for grief counseling after losing her husband of sixty years, and had just walked in. Which meant Kit couldn’t follow up any further with Megan on how she looked different today. But she didn’t really need to. She felt different.
Crap. If she was going to do this thing with Dillon, she was going to have to get her stuff together.