Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
When I arrive home, I’m so preoccupied with Hutch’s imminent arrival that I don’t see the lifeless bunny on my welcome mat until I climb the final step to my porch.
A chill prickles the back of my neck. The bunny is small enough to be a baby. How did it get here? There are plenty of cats in the neighborhood, and the calico who lives across the street sometimes hunts birds in my yard. Did he leave me this little gift?
I let myself inside and set my things on the dining room table, then grab a plastic grocery bag from under my sink. Using the underside of the bag like a glove, I carefully pick up the bunny. Its little body is limp. I’m not squeamish, but something about this task is unnerving. I glance up and down the street as I walk the poor thing to the trash can, but the neighborhood is quiet like always.
Back inside, after thoroughly scrubbing my hands, I change into jeans and a T-shirt and do a blitz clean of the house. Though I tell myself Hutch is not ending up in my bed tonight, clean sheets are always a good idea.
My thoughts have spun round and round all day. How do I reconcile what my body is craving with what my heart needs ?
It’s only a matter of time before Hutch leaves town. Considering how successful Louisa’s procedure went today, that could be soon. How much longer do I have? Days? A week?
We’ve already broken our unspoken rule to stay in the friend zone. Do I shut us down now, and keep my heart safe, or throw caution to the wind and enjoy the ride?
Even though the crash will break me.
I jump in the shower for a quick rinse, but once I’m facing my closet, I’m at a loss of what to wear. Go all in with my cropped, off-the-shoulder black sweater with the wide hem and my best jeans, or my favorite blouse and wide-leg trousers? Or I could give off a casual vibe with a clean tee and leggings, like I just walked out of a yoga class and couldn’t be bothered to shower or change clothes.
I lower to the bed and close my eyes. It’s not supposed to be this hard.
A knock on the door startles me out of my doomspiral. “Be right there!” I call out, yanking on the black cropped sweater and jeans and sliding a pair of dangly beaded earrings into my ears. After one fluff of my curls in the mirror and a quick coating of lip gloss, I hurry to the door.
Hutch hugs a grocery bag with one arm and a bouquet of Louisa’s lupine, poppies, and blue columbine in the other.
“Hi.”
He smiles, his dark green eyes alight with a playful gleam that makes my ovaries vibrate.
Lord help me.
“Hi.” He gives my body an appreciative scan, his smile brightening.
Should I have worn the yoga pants and T-shirt, or would it have mattered? Yesterday I was dressed for barn chores and that didn’t slow him down one bit.
I step back. “Come in.”
He saunters past me, giving me a hit of his citrusy aftershave. The hairs on the back of his head look trimmed, like he got a haircut today. He’s wearing a faded pair of fatigues and a forest green henley, the top two buttons undone. It’s snug and loose in all the right ways, reminding me of the toned, muscular body underneath.
He offers me the bouquet. “Picked this afternoon.”
“Louisa’s are always so pretty. I’ve been watching these lupine.” I smile at him. “Thank you.”
He winks. “First harvest is coming up. Then it’ll be wedding season before we know it.”
I carry the flowers into the kitchen and reach for a vase. Hutch sets the grocery bag on the counter and unpacks a clump of freshly picked spinach, garlic, a homemade jar of sun-dried tomatoes, a pint of cream, a round loaf of artisan bread, a giant jar of what I think is broth, a bottle of white wine, and a package of chicken.
My empty stomach gives an eager twist. “I like where this is going.”
With a grin, he rolls up his sleeves. “Would you like dinner now or a glass of wine and an appetizer?”
I lean sideways against the counter. “Let’s cook. I’m pretty hungry.”
“Sounds good.” He turns on the oven and tucks away the grocery bag while I bring out two wine glasses.
He rummages in the kitchen drawers for an opener. “It’s in here,” I say, cocking my hip at the drawer in front of me. Before I can step out of the way, he comes in behind me and pulls the drawer open, trapping me between his arms. He gives a soft exhale against my neck, sending prickles down my spine.
I lean back against him and he wraps one arm around me.
“Hi,” he says, nuzzling the back of my ear.
I laugh. “You already said that.”
“I know, but now that I’m holding you, it feels right to stay it again.”
A flutter works its way up my chest. “Hi to you, too.”
“You smell so good. Like Mom’s sweet peas but kinda spicy too, like…ginger. I used to sniff your letters, hoping to catch so me of it.”
The flutters spread through my shoulders and turn to tingles on the back of my neck. This sounds genuine, but why has he never told me this? “Did you?”
“No, but imagining it was nice,” he says.
“I still have your letters.” After that night in Wolf Creek, it took me a while to write to him again, but when he didn’t write back, I stopped.
“I have every one of yours.”
I practically melt into him.
With me trapped between his chest and the counter, he peels the wrapper from the bottle and with a few quick twists of his wrist, has the cork free.
“You pour wine, I’ll get chopping,” he says, like he knows I need a lifeline right now. Because if these things are true, what’s happening between us is beginning to feel a lot less casual. I don’t know if my poor heart can take it.
“Can I help?”
He releases me, but in pulling away, his fingertips graze my bare lower back. The contact sends a hot buzz over my skin.
“You can tell me about your day.” He slides out the cast-iron skillet from the cupboard and sets it on a burner. My kitchen is small or maybe it’s just that Hutch takes up so much space. His woodsy lemony scent and the swift, athletic way he moves and the rich timbre of his voice. It’s like he’s everywhere at once.
“Pretty normal Monday.” I set his glass of wine closer to him and take a small sip of mine. It’s crisp and almost buttery. “Ear infections and immunizations and well-child visits. Though Vivian asked if she could fill in at the middle school because their nurse called in sick, so Sepp and I were running nonstop. But at least there were no life-threatening emergencies today, so that’s a plus.”
“Does that happen a lot?” He slides out a cutting board and the chef’s knife from the block and cracks two garlic cloves from the bulb.
“Maybe once a week. ”
“Good thing you’re so level-headed.” He unpacks the chicken breasts and places them in the hot pan, making them sizzle. “How did you end up taking over for Dr. Boone? Did you know he was retiring?”
“He reached out to me, actually. I guess he and my mom are on the same pickleball team or something, and she mentioned I intended to return to Finn River to start my practice. We met for lunch when he was in San Francisco visiting his daughter, and he pitched his idea. I was about to start my first year of residency, so the timing was perfect.”
Hutch glances up from the garlic he’s mincing. “Sounds like a great fit.”
“So far it’s working out really well. A few patients have left, but?—”
He cuts me off with a scowl. “Why would they leave?”
I shrug. “Being a young woman can make it harder for some people to trust me.”
“That sucks.”
“It’s reality.”
He slides the bread into the oven. “Over time, though, your amazing reputation will bring in more families.”
My insides warm. “That’s the goal.”
He flips the chicken breast in the pan then returns to chopping the herbs. “Was the transition easy?”
“We overlapped for about two months, which helped a lot. There was some turnover with the staff, but those that stayed seem really happy, and they’re so knowledgeable. That’s made it easier too.”
“You mean some of Dr. Boone’s staff quit?”
I shrug. “It’s normal. I run things differently.”
“Like how?”
“I think I give my staff more autonomy than Dr. Boone did.” Vivian’s shyness has been replaced with a thoughtful confidence and it’s been great to see Sepp let his guard down and just be himself .
“Seems like that’d be a reason to stay,” Hutch replies, cocking his head, like he’s puzzled.
“Change is hard for people. I never took it personally.”
“You’re coming up on a year, right?”
“Yep.”
“And you still love it?”
I laugh. “More so. I love building a lasting connection with families. Being a source of knowledge and care for children. And I love watching kids grow up. It still blows me away how much they change between visits.”
“When I saw Skye, I couldn’t believe she’d gotten so big. Jesse sends pictures, but it’s not the same.” He sets the chicken on a plate, then adds the spices and fresh herbs to the pan and gives it a quick stir.
“You’ve made this before?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s one of Beth’s favorites.”
The thyme and garlic and the tiny pinch of red pepper flakes blends with the goodness left behind by the chicken to create a savory richness that is making my tastebuds scream in anticipation. “It smells amazing.”
He adds cream and the broth to the pan and gently stirs it. “Tasting it is even better.”
“Should I set the table?”
“Yeah. This will be done in about ten minutes.”
I collect two plates from my cupboard and the silverware and carry them to my dining room table, the one I hardly ever use because it feels so formal for my mostly solo mealtimes. Once both place settings are assembled, I bring in the flowers he brought and swipe a jar candle from my mantle.
“Looks nice,” Hutch says from where he’s leaned against the kitchen doorway, his eyes focused on me.
“This is awfully special for a Monday.”
He catches me around the waist as I try to slip past him. “You deserve special every day of the week. ”
“Oh, please.” I try to squirm away but instead he spins with me, pulling me close as he leans back against the counter.
Those deep green eyes lock with mine. “I mean it, Ava. I like making you feel special.”
“You’re doing a pretty great job.” I try to fight the blush rising up my neck with a slow exhale.
“Does that mean you want me to keep doing it?”
I wrap my arms around his neck, grounding myself in the feel of him so I don’t let that question take me to the dark side. Because we both know he can’t keep doing it forever. There’s an expiration date coming, whether it’s tomorrow or next week.
He lowers to kiss me, his lips tugging on mine in a sweet embrace.
I should care more about that expiration date. By the way my heart is pounding in my chest, she’s certainly warning me to.
I rise on my tiptoes so I can kiss him back, letting my lips linger on his just a little longer. His tongue flicks against my mouth like a tease. An invitation I can’t seem to resist. He caresses the bare patch of skin at my low back, his touch slow and tender, unhurried like always. It makes me feel almost giddy to imagine the rest of the night playing out just like this—with us taking our time.
I told him just dinner, but it’s clear that plan has long been abandoned. I want this man. All of him. For as long as I can have him. My heart will just have to shelter in place.
The timer on the stove beeps, and Hutch smiles as we break apart, like he can read what’s running through my mind, and liking it. I focus on pulling together a simple salad while Hutch slices the bread, then we bring everything to the table.
My first bite of his chicken is so rich and yummy that I close my eyes in bliss. “Wow.”
He looks up from where he’s cutting his first bite to shoot me a cocky grin.
Could he be any more handsome right now?
We talk about the farm and the busy summer ahead—thankfully skipping over specifics. I try to savor each bite but I’m hungry and the flavors are perfect.
“How’d the search in York Springs go?” I ask, taking my last bite. “A mining accident, right?”
His face goes still, hardening the planes of his face in the candlelight. “Yeah.” He twirls his wine glass. “The guy was fine. Broken ankle.”
“How’d he get down there?”
“It started with him poaching, and the shaft kind of drops off to a, um, ledge.”
“He’s lucky someone knew where to find him.” I break off a corner of bread and dip it in the sauce.
“There was something else down there.” He leans back from the table, his eyes troubled. “I guess I didn’t get a chance to tell you yesterday.”
My gut tenses because this sounds bad.
“A young woman’s bones.”
I reach for his hand. “Hutch, that’s terrible.”
He wraps his fingers around mine. “It definitely unnerved me.”
“Did you call the police?”
“Yeah, they sent a forensic team down there.”
I wince. What an awful thing for him to see. “Do they know her identity?”
“No.” He kisses the back of my hand, pressing his lips to my skin for a moment before sliding his fingers free.
“I’m sorry you had to experience that.”
“Definitely spooked me.”
“I can understand why.” I chew another bite of my bread, unable to stop the questions forming in my mind. Did this poor girl fall down there like that miner? Or did someone leave her there? A chill ghosts across my skin.
“At least she’s out of that mine.”
I sip my wine. “Maybe take a break from search and rescue? ”
His eyes turn thoughtful. “It’s good practice. Plus, who would irritate Captain Greely?”
I laugh. “I hope you don’t take it personally. He’s easy to irritate.”
“Fish don’t seem to irritate him.”
“Fish don’t talk back,” I say with a wink.
He tips his wine glass toward me. “Do you two still clash the way you used to?”
“I inherited his stubbornness.”
He smirks. “That explains a lot.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being determined.”
“Most of the time, I’d say you’re right.” He locks eyes with me. “But what if that determination acts like blinders, and you miss the chance to enjoy yourself, explore?”
A nervous tickle batters my rib cage. “Something you want to tell me?”
His sexy smirk turns irresistible. He arches an eyebrow. “More like show you.”
Whoosh goes my stomach.
Hutch pushes back from his chair and extends his hand.
It shouldn’t feel like such a big decision. We’re good together, Greely. You know it. I know it. Tonight doesn’t have to define the rest of my life.
I place my hand in his and let him pull me gently to my feet. “What about the dishes?”
The cocky arch of his eyebrow should be illegal. “Dishes can wait.”