Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
rowan
The next morning, I wake up earlier than usual with a surprising amount of energy, so I sneak into the laundry room to borrow a hoodie and put the coffee brewing before going out for a run.
Retracing the route Claire and I took last night, I jog along the road to my sister’s place.
The crime scene we left behind looks even worse in the light of day.
I’ll have to call one of the plumbers Claire recommended as soon as possible. At least Daisy’s small garden seems to have survived the great flood, by the grace of God. I’m truly grateful, because I don’t know if I could bear her disappointment had I ruined her precious flower beds.
She’ll be even more dismayed if and when she finds out all the ways I’ve screwed things up with Claire, though.
What the heck am I even doing right now? Spending time with a woman I can’t have, throwing myself at temptation, deceiving myself and everyone around me … None of my actions have been in line with the life I’m striving for or the man I aim to be.
I let out a frustrated growl and reach for the string of rosary beads I keep in my pocket before turning to retrace my steps, but my mind continues to drift back to Claire as I recite the prayers that have become as natural as breathing for me.
I’ve never felt any of this before, the inability to stop thinking about her, even to the point of distraction, the compulsive need to get closer to her, the undeniable connection we share—it has to mean something.
I wish I understood whether I’m supposed to continue torturing myself and testing my restraint in the name of being a positive influence on Claire, or if I’m just fooling myself into thinking that.
The sight of her standing in the open doorway with a mug of coffee in her hand and her dogs playing at her feet squeezes the last of the oxygen from my lungs.
I slow my pace as I reach her front yard, and the smirk she flashes me causes my heart to skyrocket.
Who needs a cardio workout with a woman like this around?
“Good … morning,” I tell her when I stop to catch my breath.
“Morning,” she returns and brings her mug up for a sip. I force my eyes to skim her tattoo sleeve in lieu of a full-body scan, but it’s just as sexy as the rest of her.
“How are you today?” I ask with my hands on my hips.
“A little chilly. Seems my favorite hoodie’s gone missing overnight,” she muses, but she’s taking me in as if she likes what she sees.
“Too bad you don’t have a robe,” I reply, laughing when she clicks her tongue in annoyance. “I hope you don’t mind. Thought I’d go for a run this morning to check on Daisy’s house,” I add, gesturing over the hoodie.
“Don’t tell me you swiped my favorite pair of boxers, too,” she says, and my cheeks warm at the mention of my cheeky gesture of goodwill from our last sleepover.
I shake my head as I continue closing in the distance between us. “I wouldn’t dare, not when I know how much you love wearing them.”
She rolls her eyes playfully as she turns to go back into the house, and I follow her into the kitchen with the same enthusiasm as Oscar and Frankie looking for a scrap of bacon, though I tell myself it’s the coffee I’m after.
Once I’ve helped myself to the same mug I used last time, the one with the outline of a lamb and a four-leaf clover, I take off the hoodie and set it on the counter.
“Camellia High FFA, Agricultural Education,” I read aloud as I study the logo.
“I don’t suppose you homeschooled babies were members of the Future Farmers of America,” she says, sitting with her mug.
“Not the LaFleur crew, anyway. We did join the 4-H Club, though.” That earns me a smile of approval. “In fact, my brother mentioned his kids were interested in showing livestock this year. I’m guessing that’s one of your specialties?”
“One of many,” she replies coyly. “What do they want to show?”
“Lambs.” I hold up the mug. “My parents were letting them pick from their spring flock, last I heard.”
She nods. “They’d probably have the best luck with a late winter or early spring lambing.”
I hum thoughtfully as I take a sip. “Were you a livestock show kid, too?”
“I was,” she says wistfully. “My mom would have preferred a debutante or a cheerleader, but she got an ag girl instead. Showing sheep and goats helped me pay my own way through college, though.”
“Wow, that’s impressive. Although, I shouldn’t be surprised at this point,” I say, sighing.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks, though she seems amused.
I shrug. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
Her expression falls, and I could kick myself for being so insensitive again.
“I’m sorry,” I add softly.
She stands and moves to dump the rest of her coffee. “Speaking of FFA, I’ve got to get to work,” she announces. “Don’t forget your clean clothes in the laundry room. I’d ask if you needed anything else, but it seems you’re capable of fending for yourself.”
“Claire?” I call out.
She stops and lets out an exhale. “It’s too early in the morning for a heart-to-heart about my infertility issues, Rowan. In fact, I’d rather not talk about them at all.”
“I know. I … I just wanted to thank you again for your hospitality,” I fib.
“Don’t mention it,” she replies, crossing her arms.
“I’d love the chance to repay you for all your generosity, though. So if there’s anything you ever need—not that I think you’ve only been helping me so I’d owe you in return,” I ramble. “But just … let me know if you come up with something … please.”
She snorts. “Okay, Doc. Why don’t we start with a new stick welder for the Camellia High ag shop?”
I clear my throat awkwardly. “I’ll get right on that.”
“You should probably shower first, though,” she says as she skirts by me on the way to her bedroom.
Frankie and Oscar whine when she shuts the door behind her, and I crouch down to console them. “Yeah, I get it, buddy,” I tell Frankie after he lets out a woeful sigh.
After a quick shower, I dress in slacks, a button down, and a tie, and I run into Claire as I’m collecting my things from the laundry room.
She’s wearing a pair of jeans with another Camellia High sweatshirt, to my disappointment.
I guess a part of me was looking forward to seeing her in her ag teacher uniform.
“Here,” she says, placing a stack of clothes in my arms. “Don’t forget to slip your sister’s dress back into her closet.”
“Right,” I say on an exhale, my eyes still running over her. Now that I think about it, I should have been more excited to see her in one of Daisy’s sundresses last night. But it’s the sight of her in those chest waders I can’t seem to get out of my mind.
“School’s dismissing early for Mardi Gras break, so I’ll be around this afternoon if you need me,” she mumbles, and I gather that’s the reason for her casual Friday wear.
“Yeah, thanks. I guess I’ll try to find a plumber who’s willing to meet me after lunch.”
“Good luck with that,” she says, gesturing for me to go.
I bid her another awkward goodbye and wish her a good day and a nice weekend and thank her one more time before she practically pushes me out the front door and gets into her Bronco. Then I relive every embarrassing moment on the way to the clinic where I’ve recently started working.
“Good morning, Dr. Cutie Pie,” I hear as I’m greeted by one of the medical assistants.
“Good morning … ah, Mackenzie, right?”
She nods, grinning proudly when I guess correctly.
“Your patient has just arrived, so I’ll get her set up in the ultrasound room whenever you’re ready.
But first, you’ve been summoned to Doc Simms’s office.
He and Nurse Tenley are waiting for you.
” She gestures toward the office of the practice’s owner, and I furrow my brow.
“Oh, okay then. Thanks, Mackenzie,” I reply, walking over to knock below the nameplate reading Dr. Francis Simms, OB-GYN. I step inside once the elderly doctor beckons me and exchange greetings with him and the nurse midwife who share ownership of the practice.
“I’m told you wanted to see me?” I ask hesitantly.
“Yes, have a seat, Rowan,” Dr. Simms commands, and I settle into an old leather couch beside Tenley.
“Oh, yeah. This is definitely an ambush, in case you were wondering,” she whispers, her playful smile at odds with her claim.
My brow lifts. “Well, all right.”
Dr. Simms chuckles. “Less of an ambush and more of an offer,” he amends. “But Tenley and I have been talking, and while you’re still a relatively new addition to the family, we want you to know how much we all enjoy having you here at the clinic, staff and patients alike.”
“Thank you,” I say, a smile taking over my face. “I’m glad to be here, and the feeling is mutual.”
“Good,” he affirms. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
I let out a soft laugh and shoot Tenley a silent plea to cut to the chase.
“You’re scaring him, Doc,” she says before turning back to me. “We want you here more often, Rowan. As often as you’d like.” She grins as the offer sinks in.
“But … I don’t think you have enough high-risk patients to fill my schedule for more than one day per week,” I remind them.
“We don’t,” Tenley confirms. “But with the new ultrasound machine we’ve acquired and the recent renovations to the hospital’s L&D ward, we can’t keep up with our caseload in general.”
“I thought bringing Nurse Tenley on board would allow me to slow down and cruise into retirement, but we’ve become busier than ever,” Dr. Simms jokes.
I nod, still trying to make sense of things.
“We’ll have to stop accepting new patients if we don’t find another OB-GYN,” Tenley adds.
“So you want me to help recruit another doctor to take your place?” I ask Dr. Simms, and he and Tenley trade amused looks.
“I think we’d rather just skip the middleman and convince you to do it,” Tenley tells me with a pat on the knee.
My posture straightens. “Oh, I see.”
“We were thinking we could start incorporating a few regulars into your schedule, two or three days per week, whatever you’re comfortable with. It would buy us some time while you decide whether you want to make it a permanent thing.”
I swallow hard. “You want me to buy into the practice?”
“I’d prefer you just buy me out,” Dr. Simms counters with a wide grin.
I glance back and forth between the two of them. “I mean, I’m totally flattered, but … I don’t know what to say. I haven’t spent much time as a general OB-GYN. I’m not even sure I’d be prepared, even if I wanted to do it.”
“Have you forgotten how to perform a C-section?” Tenley poses sarcastically.
“Well, no, but …”
She shrugs. “I’ll be here to remind you of the basics.”
I open and close my mouth a few more times before I manage to form a reply. “I’m not sure I can give you a definitive answer right away, at least not the one you want. But I’ll certainly think about it.”
“That’s all we ask. And know we’re very amendable to whatever kind of arrangement you’re looking for, even if you want a trial for now and decide it’s not for you later,” Dr. Simms reassures me.
I force a smile and rise to shake his hand and thank him for the opportunity, my mind still reeling as Tenley leads me out into the hallway.
She lets out a soft laugh as she regards the look of consternation I must be wearing. “I did warn you about the ambush.”
I shake my head and huff out a laugh of my own. “This is certainly not how I saw my morning going, especially after the night I had.”
She cocks an eyebrow. “Do tell.”
“Just some trouble with the plumbing at my sister’s house. She and Landry are still on their honeymoon, and I’m hoping to get everything fixed by the time they get back.”
She crosses her arms and regards me skeptically. “Is that why the office gossip reported seeing your truck at a certain recently divorced ag teacher’s house early this morning?”
My heart quickens, though I’m unsure whether it’s because I’ve been caught with Claire or simply because she’s back in the forefront of my mind. I clear my throat uncomfortably as Tenley purses her lips and dares me to deny the charges.
“I-I, um …”
“Rowan,” Tenley interrupts my stuttering and softens her expression. “I’m only teasing. You don’t need to answer to me or anyone else here. Your love life is none of our business. Unless you’re looking for advice, in which case I’d recommend confiding in anyone but Mackenzie.”
I chuckle at that, and she pats me on the arm. “Seriously, though. I’m here if you need a listening ear.”
“Thank you,” I say, trying to convey my sincerity.
“What are business partners for, right?” She grins and bounces her eyebrows, and I narrow my eyes at her.
“I’m afraid it’s going to take more than that to convince me to abandon my high-risk patients.”
“No one said you’d be abandoning them altogether. You’d just be casting a broader net, which means you’d get to help more women overall. And there’s something to be said for working in a small community, you know.”
I sigh. “That sounds nice, but also a little counterintuitive.”
“Doesn’t make it untrue,” she says with a shrug. “Besides, you might like being closer to your family.”
“My family’s in Baton Rouge,” I remind her.
“Hmm. And I thought they were off making babies in some cabin in the mountains,” she replies with a sly smirk, and I blow out a frustrated breath when I realize she’s right.
I like Camellia so far, much more than I expected, and I’m going to have a hard time staying away once Daisy and Landry start having kids of their own. Not to mention the dark-haired, tattooed beauty down the road I can’t seem to shake, even against my better judgment.
“Oh,” Tenley blurts out, snapping her fingers. “Speaking of, I’m about to start a round of Natural Family Planning classes. You should pop in for a refresher, just in case you start seeing some of our regular patients. It’ll be fun.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding. “That’s actually a good idea. Thanks.”
“I’ll remind you when it gets closer. In the meantime, give that offer some thought, pray about it, run it by the important people in your life, whatever it takes to arrive at the decision that brings you the most peace,” Tenley adds with a softer smile before she walks away.