enough for a good foot rub much less anything else,” I said.
“I had to try,” said Pete with a low-wattage smile.
“I understand.” I waved to Rodney behind the bar.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting to-go boxes.”
“Really?”
“You know I can’t resist you in your lab jacket. Especially with all those stains,” I said.
“Thank God for that,” he said.
Chapter Eight
FIFTEEN MINUTES WAS not long enough, but since we bagged dinner we managed to stretch it to twenty-five which bordered on reasonable. It goes without saying that I didn’t get my foot rub.
Pete stretched out beside me and stoked my thigh. I put my head on his shoulder, drawing his smell deep into my lungs until they were filled to the point of pain. The stench was gone, banished by the thin sheen of fresh sweat on his skin. After letting me breathe him for a couple of minutes, Pete said, “I have to go.”
“I know. See you in a month,” I said.
“Sorry, babe. But I do have a break after this rotation. Two weeks. We should go somewhere.”
“I have to go on a cruise.”
“A cruise with who?” he asked.
“Aunt Tenne just asked me, and I can’t afford two vacations,” I said.
“Why do you have to go?” he asked.
“Well, she asked and who else is going to do it?”
“Your mom could go.”
“She’s on a cruise now and, besides, cruising with Mom isn’t Aunt Tenne’s idea of a good time. The looks, the comparisons. You know how it is,” I said.
“You look exactly like your mother, so how are you different?” asked Pete.
“I’m not her sister.”
“I guess I don’t get the whole girly competition thing.”
“All I can say is Mom’s a lot to handle even for me, and I don’t weight three hundred plus.”
“I don’t even get that,” he said.
“I don’t have the energy to explain girls to you,” I said, rolling over and shoving him off my bed.
Pete walked into the bathroom muttering. I looked after his long, lean frame for a moment and then picked up the phone on the first ring.
“Mercy, it’s Mom. You’re not answering your cell phone.”
“Sorry. I turned it off because...dinner. I was having dinner. I guess I forgot to turn it back on.”
“I’m surprised you’re home. I expected you to be with Sharon. She shouldn’t be on her own,” said my mother in the special disappointed voice she saved just for me.
“She is not alone. The Girls were at the house when I left,” I said with my “I’m a good girl” voice.
“No one answered the phone,” she said.
“Maybe they didn’t hear it. So what’s up?” I asked.
“Dad wants to know how it’s going. Have you talked to Dr. Grace yet?”
“Where’s Dad?”
“Right here.” She offered no explanation. It wasn’t like Dad to let Mom do the talking. He just plain had too much to say.
“Is something wrong?”
“Well, he’s a tad under the weather,” she said.
“Dad’s sick? No way!”
Dad sick was a once in a decade occurrence. Injuries happened all the time, but Dad considered illness an insult.
“Try not to sound so pleased,” Mom said.
“I’m not pleased. I’m surprised. What’s wrong?”
“The flu, I suppose. It’s going around.”
“Norovirus?” I asked.
“They’re not willing to go that far yet,” she said. “Back to the case, this is costing us a fortune.”
“Okay. I talked to Grace. Dad was right. Gavin’s MI was induced. Tox screen isn’t back yet.” I heard a murmur, and Mom repeated what I said. Dad cursed, and Mom came back on the line.
“Dad okay?” I asked.
“He’s fine,” she said.
He didn’t sound fine. The background, previously quiet, was filled with loud hacking and thumping furniture.
“What’s he doing?”
“He wants the phone,” she said.
“Give it to him before he has a conniption.”
“Absolutely not. He might vomit on it and then where would I be.”
“That bad, huh?” I said.
“Worse. What else have you done? Nothing illegal, I
“I had to try,” said Pete with a low-wattage smile.
“I understand.” I waved to Rodney behind the bar.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting to-go boxes.”
“Really?”
“You know I can’t resist you in your lab jacket. Especially with all those stains,” I said.
“Thank God for that,” he said.
Chapter Eight
FIFTEEN MINUTES WAS not long enough, but since we bagged dinner we managed to stretch it to twenty-five which bordered on reasonable. It goes without saying that I didn’t get my foot rub.
Pete stretched out beside me and stoked my thigh. I put my head on his shoulder, drawing his smell deep into my lungs until they were filled to the point of pain. The stench was gone, banished by the thin sheen of fresh sweat on his skin. After letting me breathe him for a couple of minutes, Pete said, “I have to go.”
“I know. See you in a month,” I said.
“Sorry, babe. But I do have a break after this rotation. Two weeks. We should go somewhere.”
“I have to go on a cruise.”
“A cruise with who?” he asked.
“Aunt Tenne just asked me, and I can’t afford two vacations,” I said.
“Why do you have to go?” he asked.
“Well, she asked and who else is going to do it?”
“Your mom could go.”
“She’s on a cruise now and, besides, cruising with Mom isn’t Aunt Tenne’s idea of a good time. The looks, the comparisons. You know how it is,” I said.
“You look exactly like your mother, so how are you different?” asked Pete.
“I’m not her sister.”
“I guess I don’t get the whole girly competition thing.”
“All I can say is Mom’s a lot to handle even for me, and I don’t weight three hundred plus.”
“I don’t even get that,” he said.
“I don’t have the energy to explain girls to you,” I said, rolling over and shoving him off my bed.
Pete walked into the bathroom muttering. I looked after his long, lean frame for a moment and then picked up the phone on the first ring.
“Mercy, it’s Mom. You’re not answering your cell phone.”
“Sorry. I turned it off because...dinner. I was having dinner. I guess I forgot to turn it back on.”
“I’m surprised you’re home. I expected you to be with Sharon. She shouldn’t be on her own,” said my mother in the special disappointed voice she saved just for me.
“She is not alone. The Girls were at the house when I left,” I said with my “I’m a good girl” voice.
“No one answered the phone,” she said.
“Maybe they didn’t hear it. So what’s up?” I asked.
“Dad wants to know how it’s going. Have you talked to Dr. Grace yet?”
“Where’s Dad?”
“Right here.” She offered no explanation. It wasn’t like Dad to let Mom do the talking. He just plain had too much to say.
“Is something wrong?”
“Well, he’s a tad under the weather,” she said.
“Dad’s sick? No way!”
Dad sick was a once in a decade occurrence. Injuries happened all the time, but Dad considered illness an insult.
“Try not to sound so pleased,” Mom said.
“I’m not pleased. I’m surprised. What’s wrong?”
“The flu, I suppose. It’s going around.”
“Norovirus?” I asked.
“They’re not willing to go that far yet,” she said. “Back to the case, this is costing us a fortune.”
“Okay. I talked to Grace. Dad was right. Gavin’s MI was induced. Tox screen isn’t back yet.” I heard a murmur, and Mom repeated what I said. Dad cursed, and Mom came back on the line.
“Dad okay?” I asked.
“He’s fine,” she said.
He didn’t sound fine. The background, previously quiet, was filled with loud hacking and thumping furniture.
“What’s he doing?”
“He wants the phone,” she said.
“Give it to him before he has a conniption.”
“Absolutely not. He might vomit on it and then where would I be.”
“That bad, huh?” I said.
“Worse. What else have you done? Nothing illegal, I
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