Chapter Fourteen
Grayson
Ismooth back the sides of my hair, desperately trying to tame the stubborn strands into place before realizing it’s a lost cause.
I reach for my cowboy hat, thankful I chose my cleanest one for today and slip it on, adjusting the brim before I snag the handles of the bagged lunch that rests in my passenger seat.
My truck door creaks as I push it open, squinting as the high noon sun beats down on me.
I hop the curb and take a few steps toward the clinic just as the door swings open.
An elderly couple, likely as old as Pops and Gran, step out.
I reach for the handle and hold the door wide, offering a polite nod as they pass.
I glance over my shoulder to make sure no one else is walking up then step inside.
Cool air greets me with a rush, and I pull my hat from my head to rest it against my chest. The receptionist sits at the front desk with the phone tucked between her chin and shoulder, and I smile politely when her eyes flick to the door.
She does a double take, blushing a bit when she realizes I’ve caught her.
I take a seat at one of the empty chairs, praying that the clinic closes for lunch and that no one else will be coming for a while.
Once she’s off the phone, I stand to approach the desk. “Good afternoon, ma’am. I was wondering if Dr. Carri—”
“Grayson?”
Holly’s surprised voice cuts through mine, and the receptionist and I both turn to see Holly walking out of one of the exam rooms.
My breath hitches in my throat at the sight of her. A purple summer dress with some flowery pattern on it peeks out from beneath her white doctor’s coat. It falls to her knees, and the bottom has these ruffles on it that swish when she moves.
Her long blonde hair is sleek today, falling in straight panels down her back. There’s a pink tinge to her cheeks, and I sure as hell hope it’s from seeing me and not the makeup she wears.
“Hi, Holly,” I rasp, taking a few steps around the clinic desk to be closer to her.
She looks at the receptionist briefly and hands her the file that she was carrying. “She’s getting dressed and will just need a follow-up in six months.” The receptionist nods, and Holly steps away from her, coming into my space.
“Hi,” she says, a little breathlessly, and I know we must look like two lovesick high schoolers the way we’re standing here gawking at each other.
“I brought you lunch,” I tell her, holding up the canvas bag. “I won’t lie and pretend I cooked it myself. My mom made it.”
“You brought me lunch?” She rips the bag from my hands, a mix of wonder and confusion fills her face as she rifles through the containers. She pulls out the first Tupperware and flips it open, a low moan spilling from her lips when she smells my mom’s fried chicken.
“Wasn’t sure if you ate already, but I figured it was worth a shot.”
She flips through the rest of the bag before pausing and looking up at me. “I can’t believe you brought me lunch.” Her voice falls to a whisper as she says, “No one’s ever done that for me before.”
I internally beat my chest, proud to be able to be the first man to do this for her.
I can’t wait to prove to her that bringing her food is the bare minimum, not special treatment.
“Not a big deal.” I know Holly’s fixated on her upcoming return to the ER and already building herself up for failure.
I needed to come this way to pick up some supplies from the feed mill, and I wanted to see her.
My mom was over the moon excited when I asked her to whip up a picnic lunch.
“Do you have a few minutes? We could go for a walk.”
“Always.”
Holly slips off her white coat, revealing bronzed skin and I suck in a breath. The top of her dress has these little sleeves, kind of like the ruffles at the bottom, and they move whenever she does.
She hangs her coat on a hanger behind the desk and reaches into a drawer to pull out her purse. Once she slings it over her shoulder, she grabs the tote bag and looks up at me.
I reach an arm out for her, and she doesn’t hesitate to come to me, tucking herself into my side.
I let my arm fall on her shoulder, resting my weight on her as I open the door for us.
Summer is in full swing. The sun shines brightly up above.
Even though it’s lunch time, it’s already hot and humid.
Holly pauses, closing her eyes and tilting her head back toward the sky.
My eyes fall to her sleek neck, and I have to physically restrain myself from leaning in to nip at her soft skin.
She inhales a full deep breath, her chest rising with the act, and when she releases it and her eyes open, I’m already smiling down at her.
“You look like you can breathe.”
Her face breaks into a smile, and she links her fingers with mine. “I can, and it feels wonderful.”
We stroll in silence for a block, admiring the small shops that line the main street of this town.
“This one used to be a bakery when I was a kid,” I point out, referencing a tall brick building.
“They had the best mini cheesecakes. They’d do fruity ones for summer, pumpkin ones in the fall, and these Bananas Foster ones that I’d drive all the way here for year round.
I’d eat an embarrassing amount of them in the truck before I even pulled out of the lot. ”
Holly snickers at that, tucking herself further into my side. “Are cheesecakes your favorite?”
“All desserts, really,” I say, tapping my stomach. “That’s clear. But any type of cheesecake is probably my first choice. Man, I haven’t thought about that place in a long time.”
She reaches a hand over to rest atop my stomach. “We need to find you some Bananas Foster cheesecake, then.”
We pass by the hardware store, the independently-owned book store, and the butcher shop.
Once we reach the end of the business section, we cross the street and head down the other direction.
Our steps slow as we near the edge of town where a row of small apple trees line the sidewalk with their branches stretching out toward the footpath.
The trees open up into a quiet orchard that leads us straight into the park.
A white gazebo sits in the center, surrounded by wildflowers, and a picnic area that’s private enough for us.
“This is gorgeous.” Holly glances around the space, tipping her head back to look at the trees, when I notice a small patch of purple pansies along one wall.
She sits at the table, and I squat down, plucking a small but firm one.
The top two petals are purple, and the bottom two start out purple but bleed into shades of yellow. It matches her dress perfectly.
Slinging a leg over the bench, I straddle the wood to face her and lean forward, tucking the stem of the flower behind her ear. Her lips purse, and she looks up at me in a way that makes my chest tight. “Look alright?”
“Never seen anything better,” I choke out.
I lean in to kiss her, placing a soft, slow kiss on her lips. I try to pull away, but her hands are on my face, bringing me back to her for another taste. “Hi,” I say again, and her corresponding smile has blood coursing through my veins.
Picking up the tote from the ground, I set it on the bench between us and start pulling out containers. “I hope you’re hungry. My mom didn’t know what you liked, so she packed a little bit of everything.”
She opens up the first container that holds the fried chicken and fishes out a piece, immediately bringing it to her mouth for a bite. “This is seriously incredible,” she says, covering her mouth with her opposite hand. “Sorry, you’re going to have to witness me talking and chewing.”
I pull out the rest of the containers—macaroni and cheese, tossed salad with multiple options for dressing, brown sugar glazed carrots, and a slice of blueberry pie for dessert. “The blueberries are the first ones picked from my mom’s patch, so consider yourself lucky there.”
“There is no way I’m ever going to eat all of this,” she says, stabbing her fork into a pile of mac and cheese.”
“Good. It can be leftovers for dinner so you don’t have to cook.”
Her eyes widen at that. “You aren’t going to eat with me?”
“Nope, all you baby. I ate lunch at home before I came.”
We sit in comfortable silence with Holly eating her lunch and both of us looking around.
I point out a few of the other buildings I recognize, letting her know which ones changed from when I was a kid.
She asks me about the farm, about the animals, and when the silence lingers, I finally ask the question that’s been bothering me all week.
“Are you ready to go back to the ER?”
She exhales heavily, setting the fork down on her half-eaten salad.
“That’s the million-dollar question I’ve been asking myself lately.
I owe it to them to come back as promised.
It’s where I’ve worked my whole career. They’ve had a lot of turnover, too, even since I’ve been gone.
I don’t want to leave them hanging when they’re nice enough to hold my position for me. ”
“Those are all really good things to say, Holly, but that doesn’t answer my question.”
Her gaze, which had been glued to the table as she spoke, swings up to meet mine. “Damn you for paying attention.”
I chuckle at that, raising a hand to rest between her shoulder blades, running smooth lines up and down her back. “What do you want, Holly?”
Her gaze falls to her lap, and her voice lowers. “I don’t know.” Then, after a few minutes of silence, she says, “I have to go back, but I’m worried it’s going to happen again. A panic attack.”