6. Gilli #2
The small measure of camaraderie evaporates when Soren enters the room with a yawn and a scowl.
The tension immediately mounts, although Aiden at least keeps his happy smile in place against his cousin’s glower. “What do you have to be so morose about this early in the morning?” he jokes.
Soren turns, and I duck away to hide my own scowl behind my hair, tucking a piece behind my ear. But I feel Soren’s gaze hovering on me.
“I didn’t sleep well,” Soren grumbles.
He ignores the extra mug on the counter and reaches overhead for one at the back of the cabinet. It’s a monstrosity, and he drains the rest of the coffee in the pot filling it.
“We need groceries. I’m about to drive Gilli into town if you want to come. Unless you have other more pressing plans.” Aiden’s smile turns mischievous like he knows something the rest of us don’t.
“There’s no reason for me to spend more time with you than necessary,” Soren replies.
He means me, not Aiden.
Because now we’re full-on glaring at each other and the heat spreads along my spine at the hard angry set of those hazel eyes.
With heat comes awareness, back again with a vengeance and gliding through me, until I’m way too conscious of the fact that he’s shirtless, his chest naked and his long hair and beard mussed from sleep .
Those two take up all the air in the room.
“I’m going to change, then I’ll be ready to leave.” The sound of my voice has Soren blinking.
Forty minutes later, I’m bouncing in the passenger seat of Aiden’s truck as he hits every single rut in the road. Finally we pull up in front of the rather small supermarket I noticed yesterday on my way in.
“Take whatever time you need. I’m going to head to the gas station and fill up the tank, then I’ll be back to pick you up. Grab everything we’ll need,” he tells me.
“If you eat as much as you claim, I’m not going to be able to afford this,” I tease. “Anything in particular you want me to get besides ketchup and more beer?”
Aiden snorts and reaches into his shirt pocket. He grabs my hand and presses a wad of cash into it. It takes him a long time to let go and the calluses of his thumb draw lines over my skin.
“Use this. Now you don’t have to worry about overextending yourself.”
I glance at the money. Looks to be at least a couple hundred bucks. “Are you sure?”
“Just get out of the truck and go nuts. Don’t worry about money. I’ve got plenty of it and if it means you’ll do the cooking, I’m happy to contribute. Go on, honey.”
He’s parked at the curb, shooing me out. If we were back in Baltimore, there would be a thousand cars behind us impatiently laying their weight on their car horns to get the hell out of the way. As it is, only a few vehicles pass and those who do offer friendly waves once I’m out on the sidewalk.
Aiden waves me off with a jaunty salute of his own before pulling back into traffic.
The store isn’t large by any means but it has a good selection. I grab a cart and start down the aisles. My stomach growls in a painful reminder of my mistreatment of it.
If Aiden wants to hand over his hard earned cash then I’ll make sure I get a variety of items. No matter the state of their fridge, they are dudes with muscles in their mid-twenties. They have to eat a lot more than they’ve got at the cabin.
I grab a round of steaks from the meat counter at the back of the store and accompany it with fresh vegetables and some pantry staples like cornmeal and flour.
Plus honey, maple syrup, and everything I need to make a real cup of coffee.
The boys aren’t happy to have me. At least, Soren isn’t happy. And since it’s his father’s property, and I need to stay, I have to find a way to smooth things over before they reach a boiling point.
Food is the way to the heart.
Not in my family, but in general, or so I’ve heard. In my family, the only thing we knew growing up was to crave food and hate ourselves for craving it.
Aiden isn’t outside when I finish. Juggling the groceries, the handles of the reusable bags cutting into my forearms, I head down the street toward the vet clinic I’d spied earlier.
A little peek to torment myself. To show me what I left behind and what I’d jeopardized.
My future, the one I’d worked so hard to get— I suck in a breath.
I’ll have it again. I’ll get to vet school come hell or high water. This is only a hurdle to get over and I’ll crash through it the same way I’ve crashed through everything else.
The expansive window of the clinic grants a perfect view of the entire reception area. It’s a cute setup, the same as everything else in this town.
Like the people here have gone out of their way to become the perfect postcard of small-town life.
A row of chairs sit in a straight line beneath the window, with another row at a ninety-degree angle to those. One seat’s occupied by a cat carrier, and a small poodle with a bow behind one ear claims another .
A long counter hides all but the top of the receptionist’s head from view.
It’s much smaller than my own clinic. There, we've got space for double the occupants in the waiting room and need three people to man the constantly ringing phones.
You get used to a certain kind of stress.
Day in and day out, you push through because you know you’re making a difference. Do the people who work here feel the same way?
The door to the back opens and out walks the tallest man I’ve ever seen.
Lanky, well over six foot, his white lab coat clean and a bunch of files in his hand.
He’s got dark brown hair, whiskey-colored eyes, neat goatee, and an easy smile when he greets the receptionist. Lines fan out around his eyes.
He’s got to be, what? In his thirties? Long fingers, big hands. One steamy doctor. Where have they been hiding him in a town this size?
Holly Brook is hiding some seriously hot men.
His frown is the kick in the pants I need to stop openly staring.
Instantly chastised, I rush off, suddenly unable to draw air deeper than halfway into my lungs.
I can’t even think about going inside, can’t even consider if they’d take me on as a volunteer, just to have something familiar to do. I’ve got to keep a low profile and stay out of sight until I figure this shit out or it blows over.
Holly Brook is my hiding spot.
The worst thing to do would be to paint a bigger target on my back.