Chapter 9
Claire
“I cannot thank you enough,” Asher says through a yawn.
Twenty minutes ago, I fell into the Sit Pit—also known as the couch cushions—and now can’t get up. It’s my brother’s fault for sending too many ridiculous memes to the group chat.
I put on a fresh shirt earlier, but what I really need is a shower to wash off the sticky lemonade.
But that can wait another minute or two. Setting my phone on the coffee table, I give my full attention to Asher. “It was my pleasure. I love kids.” It’s true too.
He swipes a hand down his face to cover another yawn.
“Tired?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He wanders into the kitchen and peers over his shoulder. “Do you want a drink? A glass of wine? Beer, maybe?”
I pick up my phone again and haul myself to my feet. “I should probably shower. Thanks though.”
For a split second, his expression looks almost like disappointment, but it’s gone so quickly that I can’t be sure.
“I’ll see you in the morning. Seven thirty.”
“But you don’t start until—” He whips around, and when he catches my grin, he matches the look. Yeah, I’ve reworked my schedule, pushing everything up thirty minutes so I’m not late. Again.
“Good night, Greer.” I salute.
“Night, Doc.” He salutes back.
Just as I’ve settled in for the night, with my damp hair against the pillow, a light out back illuminates.
I roll onto my side and peep through the crack between the curtains, instantly realizing it’s a mistake.
Asher is slinking into the hot tub. His abdominal muscles clench as he lowers himself into the steaming water, and like I’m admiring Michelangelo’s David in Florence, it’s impossible to tear my eyes away.
He stretches his arms along the edge with a beer bottle in one hand and rests his head back, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth.
I examine the rise and fall of his smooth chest and note the way the space between his brows actively relaxes. He really is such a pretty man.
After only a few seconds, his head shoots up, and I gasp. I’m confident he can’t see me because my lights are off, but I swear he looks directly at me as he luxuriously sips his beer.
It’s no surprise when I fall asleep to visions of Asher’s mouth on something other than that bottle.
I’m not on time for work the next day. I’m early! Setting the reminders and timers and alarms on my phone early is a genius hack. One I’ve utilized with success all week.
Dr. Love stuck around the first couple of days to show me the ropes and warned me that the clinic tends to be busy on Friday evenings, but so far it’s been quiet.
That changes quickly when Bea bursts through the door, her grandparents quick on her heels.
“Hi, Claire,” she shouts.
“Hi, Dolly.” I bend to her level and hold out my arms for a hug.
She sinks into my chest and squeezes me tight.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as I straighten.
I greet Jack and Natalie, too, and Natalie holds out a plastic bag.
Taking it, I look from her to Jack and back again. “What’s this?”
“We brought you dinner.” Bea smiles with pride.
My heart melts a little. No one ever brought me food at my last job. Other than delivery drivers when we’d order lunch.
“What? You didn’t have to do that.” I address her grandparents. “That was so kind of you.”
“It was this little one’s idea,” Natalie remarks. “Seems like our granddaughter has taken quite a liking to you.” Her words feel forced and uncomfortable, but I welcome them as sincere, nonetheless.
After accepting the position here, I questioned Millie about her brother’s in-laws, but she admitted she didn’t know them all that well.
She was twenty when Asher and Daisy got married at twenty-two.
At that point Millie had already dropped out of school to pursue her theater career and was on the road a lot.
But she assured me that they’ve only ever been pleasant to her.
Though she did admit to holding a grudge against them for leaving Asher to run the camp on his own every summer.
I don’t have a clue why they stuck around this year, and I can’t help but wonder if it has anything to do with me, but I don’t know that it’s polite to ask.
The porch light is shining when I pull up to the cabin in the golf cart, but the lights are off inside. Bea is spending the night with her grandparents tonight so maybe Asher is over there too.
Jessica was right, after all. After my busy night at the clinic, I’m even more appreciative of my dinner delivery.
I stayed much later than I anticipated because as I was wrapping up, a kid came in with a burn from roasting marshmallows.
Fortunately it was mild, but his parents were yappers and couldn’t take a hint.
With the house to myself, I opt for the hot tub rather than a shower. It’s been tempting me all week.
After changing into a black bikini, I get my radio, then unlock my sliding door and slip outside into the chilly mountain air. While it’s moderately warm during the day, the temperature really drops when the sun goes down.
The porch is pitch-black, so it takes a minute and some fumbling to find the light switch on the wall. When I flip it on, I discover quickly that I’m not alone.
“Holy shit!” I clutch my chest with one hand, willing my lungs to chill out.
“You fucking scared me, Greer. I nearly dropped the radio. I’m sure this thing isn’t cheap.
” I hold up the walkie talkie I’m required to hang on to at all times, then set it down on the side table.
“What are you doing with the lights off?”
He laughs, gesturing to the sky. “I turned them off so I can see the stars better. Look.”
Turning, I marvel at the silver dots splattered against the midnight blue sky. The moon is partially hidden by a tree, but its reflection is displayed on the water.
“Stunning,” I whisper.
“Sure is,” Asher agrees.
I turn around and discover he’s looking at me, and my heart takes off again.
He clears his throat as he stands, water sluicing down his chest. His blue swim trunks are bunched around his upper thighs, showcasing the taut muscles there before he tugs them down. “I, uh, I’ll give you some privacy.”
“No.” The word flies out of my mouth without my permission. “I mean…” My cheeks heat, making me thankful it’s dark. “I don’t mind if you stay.”
He stills, his uncertain expression barely visible from here. “You sure?”
I nod, and he reluctantly lowers himself back into the water. By the time I not-so-gracefully hike a leg over the side and settle on the seat across from him, he’s turned away, studiously not looking.
The water is scalding at first but soothes my sore hips in no time. I would consider myself a pretty active individual, but the last few days involved a lot of sitting.
“How was your first week?” he asks.
“Boring,” I blurt out, then slap a hand to my mouth. “Sorry. I forgot you were my boss there for a minute.”
“It’s fine. And I’m actually not your boss. I hired you, sure, but Dr. Parsons is your remote medical supervisor, even during his retirement.”
Hmm. Not my boss, eh? Good to know, not that it makes my outburst any less unprofessional.
Changing the subject, I ask, “Do the jets work?”
He flips a switch on a panel on the side, and bubbles abruptly whir to life.
In the next second, the pressure hugs my lower back, and an involuntary moan escapes me.
Asher coughs like he’s choking.
“You okay?”
“Mm-hmm. I need a beer.” He sits up straight. “Do you want anything? Wine?”
“Can’t.” I motion to the radio behind me. “On call.”
He shakes his head. “Of course. Could I offer you nonalcoholic sparkling wine, then? I think we still have a bottle left over from Bea’s party.” He thumbs over his shoulder. “She begged me to buy it, then spit it out after one sip. Said it made her tongue feel like it was going to explode.”
I smile at the visual. “Sure, sounds great.”
When he rises and turns to climb out of the hot tub, I absolutely do not ogle his ass; instead, by some miracle, I remain focused on the night sky. Gold stars for me.
With a towel wrapped around his waist, he disappears into his bedroom through the sliding glass door.
The mechanical whirring of the jets overpowers the sound of nature, but it soothes me nonetheless as I soak in the peacefulness of the moment.
Asher returns, passing me a generous pour of what is basically fizzy juice. I wouldn’t mind taking the edge off with the real stuff, but that’s not in the cards. Maybe Jessica will take a night shift for me here and there. I’ll have to ask.
He settles back into the water and holds his beer in the air. “To your first week.”
I return the sentiment and take a sip, welcoming the effervescent taste as it slides down my throat.
“So, Doc. Why was your first week boring?”
I slink down until the water hits my ears. I was hoping he’d forgotten I said that.
“It’s not that it was boring, per se,” I tell him. “Just a lot slower than what I’m used to. In the city, I worked a lot. Long hours, back-to-back patients.”
“Did you like it?”
With a sigh, I survey the lake. It feels like I’ve lived an entire lifetime since I worked for Dr. Elliott, even though it’s only been a few weeks.
“I thought I did,” I admit. “I loved my patients.”
We’re silent for a moment, but eventually he prods, “What happened?” Though as if thinking better or maybe reading into my body language, he quickly adds, “You don’t have to tell me. That’s personal. I’m sorry I asked.” He drowns his apology with a swig of his beer.
I shift in my seat. “No. I mean, yes, it is personal, but I don’t mind. The question just caught me off guard.” I sigh. “It turns out the doctor that was coming on board is the same man who sexually harassed me in med school.”
He sits ramrod straight, water sloshing over the side of the tub. “For fuck’s sake, Claire. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He studies me while I take a generous swig, wishing even more desperately that it was the real stuff.
“Honestly, I’d rather forget the whole thing happened. He didn’t physically hurt me or anything. It was an icky situation that happens to millions of women.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but I raise a hand, stopping him.
“And before you lecture me on how I handled it, I’ve already heard it once from my brother. Then a second time from Ezra.”
“Wasn’t gonna.” His jaw ticks like he most certainly was gonna. “God,” he grits out. “If anyone ever did that to my daughter, I’d fucking kill them.”
His passion warms my heart. And maybe does things to the sensitive place between my thighs.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he says. “I’d never let that happen to you. My staff would never let that happen.”
I dip my chin, appreciating that he isn’t lecturing me. If I could go back and handle things differently with Leo, I would, but rehashing it is exhausting. I’d rather shove it all behind me.
“You know,” he says after another quiet minute, “you don’t have to stay in the clinic all day. As long as you have the radio with you, you can pretty much do whatever. And if you’ll be without it for a bit, say, if you’re swimming, just shoot Brenner or me a text so we know where to find you.”
“Really?” I raise a brow, a little bolt of excitement zipping through me. Maybe I’ll even get my hands messy in the art room.
“Of course. There will be days when not a single person comes into the clinic—not even for a Band-Aid. Seems like a waste to sit inside.”
“That sounds wonderful. There are only so many ways to reorganize asthma nebulizers, glucose monitors, and EpiPens.” I laugh. “You do realize you have enough epinephrine to revive the dead, right? Should I be worried? Some of it was expired, by the way.”
“Did you throw them out?”
“No, I left them there,” I deadpan with an eye roll. “Of course I disposed of them. They’re in the sharps container. Jessica said she’d take them to the pharmacy the next time she’s in. That was nice of her.”
“Yeah, she’s great. Last year… never mind,” Asher trails off and takes a swig of his beer.
“Last year, what?”
“Nah, I shouldn’t scare you. Plus, I don’t wanna jinx it.”
I angle forward in my seat, nearly slipping off the edge. “Tell me.”
He winces and scrubs a hand down his face.
“Last summer the stomach bug from hell spread like wildfire through the camp. It fucking sucked. Everyone was down. Most of the families, me, Bea, Dr. Parsons, my parents. Jessica got it, too, but not as bad, so she worked a ton of overtime. She was a total lifesaver.”
“Ugh, that sounds awful.” I cringe.
“Thankfully none of our guests were assholes about it. I was worried that shit would go viral. No pun intended.” He chuckles.
“I’ve doubled the number of hand sanitizing stations since then, and a staff member stands at the entrance to the cafeteria for every meal to ensure that people are using them as they come in. ”
“That’s smart.”
We spend another several minutes in silence, and when I’ve drained the rest of my fake sparkling wine, I sit up. “I should probably shower and go to bed.”
When I stand, I slip on a groove at the bottom of the tub and stumble forward.
Asher throws his arm out instinctively and braces my fall by catching me under the arm.
With a sharp inhale, I look down, discovering that his thumb is glued to my nipple.
“Shit. Sorry.” He retracts his hand like my breast is made of fire, and I right myself quickly.
“It’s fine,” I mumble.
With as much grace as a walrus, I hoist myself out of the tub, not even bothering with the steps. I don’t dare look at Asher.
“Good night,” I call over my shoulder, grabbing the radio as I slip inside my room.
It isn’t until I’ve closed the sliding door that I realize I forgot a towel.