Chapter Eleven
“HE LOOKS GREAT.” Baz petted Rusty, a two-year-old Boston terrier, and said, “I’m glad the diet change cleared up his skin condition. If you have any other problems, let us know.”
“Thanks for everything, Doc,” Rusty’s owner, Mack, said.
Evie glanced curiously at Baz as he gave a curt nod and headed out of the exam room, leaving her to finish up. He strode into his office. He’d been in a shit mood since yesterday, when Emerson had texted to tell him not to come over. He’d gone for a long motorcycle ride last night and had hit the Salty Hog afterward. Zeke and Zander had been there with Gunner and Sid, and they were all raving about the cookies Emerson had made for them. He didn’t blame them. Yesterday morning she’d given him expertly decorated cookies shaped like cats’ and dogs’ faces, and he’d eaten nearly a dozen before noon and had given the rest to Evie and Tori to keep himself from scarfing them all down. He wasn’t a sugar binger, but they were the most delicious cookies he’d ever eaten.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. Finally. He’d texted Emerson a few hours ago to see how she was doing, and he hadn’t heard back from her. He pulled out his phone, and his hope deflated.
Zander: You up for the Hog tonight?
Baz: Not sure.
He scrolled to yesterday’s text thread with Emerson.
Emerson: Your mom and Madigan came over and dropped off food, so we’re all set. I’m going to call it an early night and go to sleep when Brennan does. Have a great night, and thanks again for everything.
What the fuck did that even mean? Brennan slept every two hours. Was she going to sleep at six in the evening? He reread the texts from this morning.
Baz: Good morning, beautiful. How’d you sleep? Did the little man keep you up all night?
Emerson: Hi! Up every few hours, but we’re fine. Have a great day!
His gut had told him fine didn’t really mean fine, but he’d been busy with clients and had let it go until a little before noon, when he’d texted, I can skip out at lunch and give you a hand with Brennan. Right after he’d sent the message, they’d had an emergency. A dog had been hit by a car, and he was in bad shape. Baz had spent the afternoon in surgery and then catching up on appointments. Now it was after six, and she still hadn’t responded.
Evie walked into his office and closed the door behind her. “Okay, Baz. What crawled up your butt and died?”
“Nothing.”
She sat on his desk, kicking her legs, eyebrows lifting.
“What?” he snapped.
“You’ve been short with clients, you’ve barely said two words to me or Tori, and you look like you want to punch something, so I’m going to sit here until you spill your guts.”
“Leave it alone, Eves,” he warned.
“Nope.” She leaned back on her palms. “That’s not how we roll. Did Emerson tell you not to come over again?”
“No. I haven’t heard from her. She didn’t return my text from earlier.”
“And you’re not used to being ignored.”
He didn’t bother responding.
“She has a new baby, Baz. She’s busy.”
He gritted his teeth, clutching his phone tighter. “Something could have happened to her or Brennan.”
“Since when do you catastrophize?”
He glowered at her. “I’m not in the mood to be given shit.”
“No kidding,” she said sarcastically. “I saw the way you looked at her when she first came into the office.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I thought I knew all of your looks, but you had an expression I’ve never seen before. Like you couldn’t take your eyes off her.”
“She was a mess, practically hysterical, and her dog was wired. I was trying to figure out what was going on.”
“All right, we’ll go with that,” she said lightly. “But it seems to me you’re getting a little attached to both of them, and I know babies are a sensitive subject for you—”
“This isn’t that ,” he growled, refusing to go there. “I just want to be sure they’re okay. It’s been hours since I texted.”
“Not everyone is a texter. Give her a break. You barely know her, and you’ve inserted yourself into her life like she’s your girlfriend. I’ve got to say, on one hand, it’s pretty freaking great to finally see you all twisted up over a woman. But on the other hand, she just had a baby. I’m sure she’s exhausted and feels like shit, and there’s a lot of pressure to look pretty with you hanging around.”
“I don’t treat her like a girlfriend. I’m doing the same kind of thing we’ve done for a hundred other people, and I don’t give a fuck what she looks like,” he bit out, pacing the floor.
“Why are guys so stupid?” She huffed out a breath. “It’s not about you giving a fuck. It’s about what’s in women’s heads. When a guy as hot as you are is around, it creates pressure to look good.”
“You’ve never gotten dolled up around me.”
“Because I don’t want to sleep with you.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not trying to hook up with her, and I’m sure sex is the last thing on her mind.”
“It’s not about sex. Forget I said anything. The idea that hot guys make women want to look good is obviously more than you can process at the moment.”
“You’re wrong, Evie. She has more to worry about than looking good for me.”
“Hm.” She tapped her chin, brows knitting. “Then I guess she’s one of the few women who are immune to your charms and good looks.”
He glowered at her. “Can we be done now?”
“No. I’m worried about you. You’re all growly, and that’s so not normal, it makes me uncomfortable. This might come as a surprise, but not every woman wants a pushy biker in her face all the time.”
“She has no one , Evie. No parents. No family. No friends in the area. No one. ”
“I get that. But you do realize she’s a grown-ass adult, right? She chose to move where she doesn’t know anyone, and she chose to do it when she was almost ready to pop out a baby. Get your head out of your ass, Baz, and think about it. It’s worth considering that maybe she likes it that way. Maybe she’s one of those people who needs their space.”
He stopped pacing, mulling that over. He’d worried about her having a crazy ex or running from another bad situation, but once he’d settled those concerns, he’d been so intent on making sure she was taken care of, he’d lost track of the timing of her move and hadn’t slowed down enough to get to the bottom of it.
Fuck. “You might be right.”
“I usually am.” She pushed off the desk and looked up at him. “You know I love you, right?”
“’Course.”
“Then you know I’m saying this for your own good. Some people don’t want to be helped.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“No,” she said in a softer tone. “I just think you might not be seeing things very clearly right now. There could be a million reasons she’s not responding to you, and I know it bothers you, but they’re not your responsibility. Put that big heart of yours away for a night, and get out of here. Go have a beer with the guys, play some darts, and get your mind off her and the baby.”
He gritted his teeth, fighting against the inescapable force drawing him toward them.
“Hey.” She patted his chest. “Are you listening to me?”
“Yeah. You’re right.” He grabbed his motorcycle keys and helmet. “I need to get out of here.”
“I know a ride clears your head, but maybe you should go for a run first to work off that edge. You might be hot, but if you walk into the bar looking like you’re spitting nails, women are going to run in the opposite direction.”
“Like I give a fuck.”
He headed out to the parking lot and climbed onto his bike. The roar of the engine brought a rush of adrenaline. He drove off their property and cranked up his speed. Wind whipped against his skin, and the world sped by in blurs of color. The connection to the open road that had always set him free pounded through his veins, but his veins felt blocked, refusing to let it breathe. When the fork in the road came into view—the right leading to the highway and hours of open road, the left to the woman who had burrowed so deep, thoughts of her infiltrated his every breath—he gripped the handlebars tighter.
Fuck it.
He opened the throttle and leaned into the curve.