Harkham's Corner (Harkham's Series Book 3) by Chanse Lowell, Lynch Marti Page A

day.
    “Should I get my father?” He kept a fair amount of distance between them.
    “I suppose you could, but I . . .”
    He turned to go. “Make an appointment, please. That’s how this works. It means we respect your time, and you should respect ours. It’s what we do in an office.”
    He took a step, and a hand landed on his shoulder.
    He swung around. “You can’t touch me.” He yanked his shoulder out of her grip. “That’s not allowed. You’re not authorized to practice medicine or lay your hands on me.”
    She sniffed and shuddered as if she was cold. “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to say—”
    “Say goodbye. That’s what you’re supposed to say. It’s after appointment hours. I have a wife. I have two kids. They wait for me. They don’t have dinner without me, and I’m not going to make them wait or be late. I don’t do that. Plus, my soda gets warm, and I hate that when I come home to a warm soda sitting next to my dinner plate. And they make kind of sad faces. I refuse to let them look that way. That’s what good husbands do—they’re available for their family and put them first, keeping smiles on their faces for good.”
    Her eyes flew open wide, but she stood in place, hands joined back together in front of her lower abs. “I know you’re a very good man and a terrific husband. Every client who comes here also knows you’re a dedicated son. I wanted to ask you something, though . . .” She dropped her head, and her brow furrowed as her face scrunched up.
    “Are you on something, Mrs. Fahey? You know that’s not a good idea,” he said, taking a small step closer to see if he could examine her face a little better, even if it was tipped forward.
    “No. I’m not on drugs. I wish.” Her shoulders dropped a few inches, and she positively sagged.
    “Well, maybe you’re just hungry. When I need something to eat, I get all mopey and my brother says I turn into an ovary on wheels. I don’t know why the wheels—it’s not like I wear those tennis shoes with the wheels in them. I’m too old for that, but if I was younger, then yeah, I might try them. They would help me see more people and then I could help out better.” He smiled.
    She lifted her head a tad and gave a timid grin back. “God, you are so cute.”
    He grimaced and removed that step he’d taken toward her. Sometimes he regretted getting this close to anyone.
    “You know who’s cute? My daughter. She’s so cute, she lets me play dolls with her.”
    Now, Mrs. Fahey grimaced. “It’s just that I . . . Well, I’m pregnant, and it’s not my husband’s baby.” Her eyes filled with water at those words.
    “There are better ways to handle a baby than telling a doctor’s apprentice.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. Right about now he wished the numbers would whisk him away, but they didn’t.
    “I didn’t mean to have this happen. I fell in love with someone else. My husband ignores me. I don’t even think he loves me. And I couldn’t take it.”
    “So you flirt with me? Is that a good idea?”
    She shrugged, but it looked more like she was trying to disappear. “No, it’s a crappy idea, but he’ll know it’s not his as soon as he sees this baby.”
    “Why is that? Is the father of the baby a different race?”
    “No.” She held her breath for a minute, and she scratched the top of her right foot with the bottom of her left. “The baby will have red hair and blue eyes.” Her face pinked, and she finally took a breath, looking at him like he was her guilty partner.
    “Well, those are great recessive genes to have, but what does that have to do with me?” His jaw tensed, and so did those tendons in his neck. Was she playing a trick? He hated those.
    Did Zach tell her to say this?
    “Ha! I know!” He slapped his right thigh. “Tell my brother to give me my coat back and demand your money from him right away.”
    The bridge of her nose got all wrinkly, and her top lip lifted. A look of horror