A Doctor's Reunion, page 9
Holt nodded thoughtfully. “I agree. I remember thinking the same thing in college. Who we were in high school was nothing compared to where we were headed.”
“Exactly.” She was surprised he seemed to understand what she was talking about. A guy who looked like Holt—tall, dark, broad shoulders, and handsome with to-die-for-green eyes—should have had a seamless transition into college life.
He pulled into the underground parking garage and parked in the same spot he’d had before. The spaces were clearly assigned to each apartment, but there must be more apartments than parking spaces available.
“Thanks again for the ride.” She climbed out of the truck without waiting for him to open her door. The more time she spent with Holt the more it felt as if they were becoming more than friends. This closeness had to stop.
But, of course, Holt walked with her to the elevator and up to the fourth floor. She’d expected him to veer off toward his own unit, but he followed her all the way to her door.
“Sleep well, I’ll see you later.” She smiled up at him, then quickly unlocked the door and went inside.
“Good night, Kristin.” His words wafted toward her, soft and husky, moments before she closed the door. For a moment she leaned weakly against the door, then pushed herself upright.
She really needed to get over him. Her innate response to him.
Her attraction to him.
Despite being up more than twenty-four hours, she didn’t sleep well. Working the night shift had never agreed with her. Her brain was hardwired to be active during the day and shut down at night, not the other way around.
After barely four hours of sleep, she dragged herself up and padded bleary-eyed into the kitchen. She filled the coffee carafe with water, then poured it into the top of her coffeemaker without remembering to open the lid.
Water splashed all over the counter, on her pajamas, and ran in rivulets onto the floor. With a sigh, she mopped up the mess and tried again, this time managing to complete the task of making a pot of coffee.
A cup of coffee and a shower helped her feel human, but her head still ached from lack of sleep, and she had the energy of a sloth. After watching several movies on Netflix, she’d had enough of sitting around. It was time to get out of the apartment, even for a short while.
She wasn’t a regular runner, more of a once or twice a week kind of thing, but today she decided exercising in the fresh air would be a good way to clear the cobwebs from her brain.
Dressed in her running gear, she peeked out of her apartment door, half expecting to see Holt standing in the hallway waiting for her. Finding the hallway empty, she let out a soundless sigh of relief and left the apartment, locking the door behind her.
She took the stairs down to the main level. Outside, the sun shone brightly on the green, yellow, and orange leaves of the trees. Autumn in Wisconsin was beautiful. As much as she hated their long winters, she enjoyed living in an area with changing seasons.
Her running form was nothing fancy, she didn’t have a lithe athletic figure by any means. She enjoyed food too much to skip meals and couldn’t fathom starving herself the way Barbie had done. But exercise was part of maintaining a healthy lifestyle, so she was determined to at least attempt to stay in some sort of shape. Running was one way to do that, not that she planned to break any speed or distance records.
The first few yards always seemed the hardest, but soon she fell into a decent rhythm. She rounded the apartment complex and headed out toward the park located a half mile down the road.
There were a couple of teenage boys with gloves playing catch and a few women strolling through the park. She didn’t really pay much attention, too busy concentrating on breathing slow and easy.
When she estimated she’d gone about a mile and a half—again, no long-distance running for her—she turned around to head back.
She kept her gaze on the apartment building up ahead. After passing by the park, something hard slammed her in the center of her back, knocking her off balance. She tumbled forward, hitting the pavement hard with her hands and knees. Somehow, she broke her fall enough to roll sideways, preventing herself from face-planting on the asphalt.
Sprawled on the ground, she was so stunned she couldn’t think. What had happened? She saw the baseball lying in the grass several feet away.
No way. The kids had hit her? On purpose?
She struggled to her feet, wincing at the various aches and pains shooting through her body. Her hands and knees had taken the brunt of her fall, but her shoulder and back throbbed, too. She was grateful she hadn’t hit her head.
Sweeping her gaze over the park, she tried to find the kids who’d been playing catch. But they weren’t anywhere in sight. The women had vanished, too.
Limping badly, her right knee was beginning to swell. She went over to pick up the baseball. She tossed it lightly in the air, catching it in her palm. She hadn’t imagined the event, and the baseball was proof. The kids must have thought it would be funny to hit a runner, then had taken off once she’d fallen to the ground.
Still, she thought it was odd. The kids hadn’t seemed to notice her running by. They were calling out to each other, tossing the ball high in the air, hooting and hollering as if practicing catching a fly ball. She figured they were on some sort of school baseball team.
Had their aim been off that badly? She stared at the ball, then back over the park. Where were the women who’d been there?
The sudden emptiness of the park made her shiver.
Kristin told herself to stop seeing something sinister in what clearly had been meant to be a prank. The kids must have thrown it harder than they’d intended.
Running the rest of the way back to her apartment was out of the question, so she walked. Or rather limped. She carried the ball, as if needing tangible evidence that she hadn’t tripped over her own two feet like some sort of imbecile.
Preoccupied with thoughts of soaking her sore muscles in a hot tub, she didn’t see Holt until she nearly ran into him coming off the elevator.
“Excuse me.” She winced when her knee protested the abrupt stop.
“What’s wrong?” Holt raked a concerned gaze over her. “You’re bleeding.”
She glanced down at her right knee. He was right, both knees were scraped raw and bleeding, but the right one had a far deeper gash. “Yeah, I fell.”
“While playing baseball?” He looked confused.
“No, because someone threw a baseball at me as I was running.” She moved past him. “Those boys had better aim than I would have given them credit for.”
“I have a first aid kit and an ice pack.” Holt stood close to her side as she unlocked her door. “Why don’t you let me clean up those wounds?”
“Thanks, but I’m pretty sure I can manage. I’m a nurse, remember?” She wanted to let Holt take care of her, but she knew she had to resist.
“Are you hungry? I made a pot of chili. It’s not half bad, if I say so myself.”
Again, she felt herself weaken. She really wanted to let him clean up her knees and feed her.
When had she gotten so needy? She’d broken things off with Greg a little over five months ago, she didn’t need to get involved with someone else.
Especially a resident she worked with.
“Please? It’s no fun eating alone.”
And just like that, she caved. “All right. Thanks.”
She pushed open her apartment door and limped inside to her sofa.
As Holt elevated her feet on pillows, she knew she was in big trouble.
Fighting her attraction to Holt was proving impossible.
Kristin’s right knee was swollen, but the scrapes themselves weren’t too bad. Still, he didn’t hesitate to fetch his first aid kit and towels from his apartment, grabbing a bag of lima beans from the freezer on the way, before returning to her place.
Inwardly, he was furious a couple of kids thought it would be funny to hit a jogger with a baseball. What if they’d had hit her in the head? A head injury was no laughing matter. He thought it would be a good idea to report this to the police but sensed Kristin wouldn’t go there.
“Here, hold this on your swollen knee while I get soap and water.” He gently set the frozen bag of veggies on her knee.
“Lima beans? Seriously? No one eats lima beans.”
“Exactly. That’s why they’re perfect for functioning as an ice pack.” He filled a bowl with water and set it beside the washcloths and towels.
“You could use my towels,” she protested as he went to work.
“No need. This is going to sting.”
She sucked in a breath but didn’t flinch as he gently cleaned the dirt and bits of gravel from her wounds. When he finished, he replaced the lima bean ice pack on her knee.
“Thanks, Holt.” Her smile was wan, and he knew that she was still hurting.
“Do you have any ibuprofen?”
“Yes.” She gestured behind her. “In the medicine cabinet.”
He retrieved the over-the-counter medication and brought three tablets and a glass of water to her. She downed the meds without hesitation.
“Thanks again. You’ve really gone above and beyond the call of duty.”
He knelt beside her, meeting her gaze. “If this knee doesn’t look better by tomorrow, you shouldn’t work.”
Her eyes widened in horror. “No way am I calling in sick. I’m still new, haven’t reached my six-month probationary period yet. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
It was tempting to argue, but he decided to wait and see how the knee looked after being iced for a while. He rose to his feet. “Stay put, I’ll bring over the pot of chili.”
Without waiting for her to refuse, he quickly put the antiseptic and supplies back in his makeshift first aid kit and then dumped the soapy water in the sink.
Minutes later, he returned to Kristin’s apartment carrying the large Crock-Pot of chili. He’d gone a little overboard, making a double batch. Deep down, he’d been hoping to share it with Kristin.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her.
“Smells great,” Kristin said encouragingly.
“It’s my grandmother’s recipe.” He didn’t bother pointing out that his mother had decided cooking was beneath her. His dad didn’t seem to mind taking a turn in the kitchen however, and his father’s mother had been more than willing to share her culinary secrets.
Kristin shifted on the sofa, emitting a soft groan. He frowned. “Are you okay?”
“My back hurts where the ball hit me.” She gingerly turned so she was facing him.
“Maybe I should take a look.”
“No!” She looked alarmed at his suggestion.
“You’re wearing sports gear, and I’m a doctor,” he pointed out. “You could have a large hematoma back there.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Okay, you can look. Feels like there’s a bruise on my lower back, on the right.”
He gently lifted the edge of her shirt, keeping his gaze on her pale skin. He let out a low whistle. “There’s a six-centimeter round bruise that’s already turning dark.”
“Let me guess, the size of a baseball, right?”
“Yes.” He lowered the hem of her running shirt. “I think you should call the police.”
“And report what? A kid with a lousy arm accidentally hit me with a ball? Not happening.” She shifted again on the sofa. “Listen, I’d like to take a shower before we eat. I’m all sweaty.”
He nodded and held out his hand. “Here, lean on me.”
She took his hand, her palm warm in his. He eased her upright, then slid his arm around her waist.
“You’ll regret getting so close,” she warned. “I’m sure I stink.”
“I don’t mind.”
She leaned on him, limping less obviously as they made their way down the short hall to the bathroom. She paused in the doorway, glancing up at him. “I’ll take it from here.”
“Sure.” He reluctantly released her. “But shout out if you need something.”
He returned to the kitchen, taking a moment to stir the chili, then searching her cupboards for bowls and silverware. When he realized he’d forgotten the oyster crackers and white cheddar cheese, he went back to his place.
It would have been easier to have Kristin come to his apartment, but he didn’t mind. Any time he was able to spend with Kristin was worth the inconvenience.
When he opened his apartment door with the crackers in hand to take back to Kristin, he stopped short when he saw Lana standing there.
“Hi, Holt.”
He stepped forward, pulling the apartment door closed behind him. He wasn’t the least bit interested in whatever Lana was trying to sell. “Hey, sorry, but this isn’t a good time.”
“Really.” Her gaze took in the bag of oyster crackers and shredded cheese. “I see you’ve made your grandmother’s famous chili.”
“As I said, this isn’t a good time.” He tried to edge past her.
“You’re going over to take care of Kristin Page, aren’t you?” Lana’s tone was thick with resentment. “What does she have that I don’t?”
“Integrity.” The word popped out of his mouth before he could stop it.
Lana sucked in a breath of outrage, but he didn’t stick around to watch her explode. Instead, he hurried down to Kristin’s apartment, opened the door, and stepped inside.
It wasn’t until he’d set the food on her kitchen counter that Lana’s words sank into his brain.
You’re going over to take care of Kristin Page, aren’t you?
Take care of her? How had Lana known about Kristin’s injury? There would be no way for her to have known, unless she’d been there.
As an observer? Or a perpetrator?
Chapter Ten
Holt tried to think of a plausible reason that Lana Reasby would have known about Kristin’s injury, but he couldn’t come up with anything.
She had to have been in the park. Either watching or maybe encouraging the kids to take a dare.
He wanted to ask Kristin if she saw anyone who looked like Lana at the park but decided it might be best to wait until after dinner.
No point ruining her appetite.
Kristin emerged from her shower twenty minutes later, dressed in casual fleece pants and a baggy shirt. She smiled, and he was glad to see the tiny brackets of pain at the corners of her mouth were gone.
“The hot water did wonders for my sore muscles,” she declared. “I feel so much better.”
“Glad to hear it.” He gestured to the table. “Food is ready when you are.”
“I’m starving,” she admitted, sinking into a chair.
“Good, because I have a lot of chili here.” He dished up a heaping serving of chili in a bowl and handed it to her, then pushed the shredded cheese and crackers toward her. “Add as much as you’d like.”
She ate with gusto. “This is really good. Your grandmother’s recipe? I bet your mom made it for you all the time.”
“Actually, my dad did most of the cooking.” He offered a wry smile. “My mother’s idea of cooking was ordering out.”
“I see.” He wondered if she was mentally comparing Heidi to his mother, an appropriate description. “You must be like your dad, then.”
“I hope so.” He certainly didn’t think he was as high maintenance as his mother and sister. “I consider that a compliment.”
She eyed him curiously across the table. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Of course not.”
“Are your parents still together?”
He was surprised but nodded. “Yeah, they are. My dad is a great guy, and he loves my mother, even though I know she drives him crazy. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know, it just seems like they’re very different. Kind of like you and Heidi.”
It was the first time she’d brought up his sister on her own, and he wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. “They are, but I guess they’ve managed to find some common ground.” Mostly he knew their relationship had lasted this long because his father was easygoing and let many of his mother’s comments slide off his shoulders.
It was a role he’d soon realized he’d be stuck in if he’d stayed with Lana. She’d sucked the life out of him at every turn, until he’d dreaded seeing her. His father might be a saint, but Holt wanted something more than tolerance from a marriage.
He wanted mutual respect, a partnership, love, and honor.
“That was delicious.” Kristin pushed her bowl away with a satisfied sigh. “Any chance you’d be willing to share your grandmother’s secret recipe?”
“I might,” he agreed, taking another spoonful. “Do you have a family recipe to exchange in return? I’m getting tired of my meager selections.”
“I have a parmesan chicken bake that’s pretty good.” Her gray-brown-green eyes twinkled. “I’d be willing to swap.”
“Sold.” He finished his meal, then rose to his feet to clear the table. When she struggled to stand, he gently rested a hand on her shoulder. “Stay there, I’ll manage.”
“But you cooked.” Her protest made him smile. “It’s only fair I clean up.”
“Next time. For now, you need to rest that knee.”
“The lima beans are warm.”
He went over to pluck the bag off and stuck it in the freezer. “It will be ready shortly.”
“Who would have thought lima beans would make a good ice pack?”
“Peas work too, but I like peas, whereas no one likes lima beans.”
“Someone must or they wouldn’t sell them.” She laughed again, and he was glad she was feeling so much better. Maybe she’d make it to work the following morning after all. There was no denying that he’d miss her if she couldn’t make it in.
