Pathway to Love, page 21
* * *
Ben brushed a strand of hair away from Courtney’s temple and kissed her. The last thing she wanted to do was get out of bed. What she wanted to do was touch her again, everywhere. She couldn’t seem to get enough of her scent, her taste, the sounds of her pleasure, and her laughing demands to get on with it already. She’d not had a lot of lovers, but enough to know none had ever delighted her, or surprised her, or satisfied her the way Courtney had. If she thought about it even a little, she’d know that none ever would. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to think at all. What Courtney had shown her, demanded of her, was the incredible freedom that came with pleasure, pleasure at the hands of a woman she trusted. A woman who wanted her. A woman she wanted more than she’d ever wanted anything or anyone in her life.
“I know you’re awake,” Court muttered. “And I know you’re thinking. You should probably stop that.”
Smiling, Ben nuzzled her neck. “So you’re an expert at reading my mind as well as my body now?”
“Am I?” Court asked, face still turned to the pillow.
“Are you what?” Ben stroked her naked back and kissed the vulnerable spot just behind her ear.
“An expert at reading your body?”
“Oh, I’d say so. Three or four times ought to have proven that.”
“Your mind isn’t so very hard to read.” Court turned onto her back and wrapped an arm around Ben’s neck, pulling her in for a kiss. A breathless moment later, she sighed softly. “You think loudly. Thinking after sex is not always recommended.”
“If you must know,” Ben said, unable to resist kissing the soft skin at the angle of her jaw, “I was thinking about how much I liked…loved…being with you last night.”
Court’s eyes widened. “Oh.” She smiled a little crookedly. “I guess that’s okay, then.”
“Good.” Ben tamped down the sudden arrow of pure, unmitigated want that struck low in her belly. “My car is still in the lot, and I need a change of clothes before I go to work. I should go.”
Court gave no sign of letting her go, and Ben didn’t resist. “Do you have ten minutes?”
Ben laughed. “Why do I think that might be more than enough time?”
Court grasped Ben’s wrist and pulled her hand down between them, pressing Ben’s fingers into her heat. “That might be an answer.”
Fifteen minutes later, still a little dazed from Courtney’s orgasm and her own, Ben pulled on clothes and trotted the block and a half through the quiet early dawn to her car. Her body and mind still lazily content, she pulled quietly down the drive to the Homestead a few minutes later. Unusually, Edward’s station wagon was still under the portico. Hoping not to rouse the household, she eased open the kitchen door and stepped inside.
Ida sat at the kitchen table with a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. The kitchen smelled like heaven. “Good morning.”
“Uh. Hi.” Ben considered backing out through the door and running away. She’d actually done that, when she was thirteen and came home to find her father only semi-stuporous in the kitchen and in a vicious mood. But that was then and this was now, and she hadn’t been safe then and now she was. Embarrassed now, a little, but she was an adult, and Ida was clearly not one to judge or be easily shocked.
“Coffee is fresh,” Ida said.
“Thank God,” Ben muttered and poured herself one. She lifted the pot in Ida’s direction. “Do you need a refill?”
“Not quite yet. We’ll have biscuits in about five minutes.”
“Is there anything I can do to help before I go shower?”
“Just come down and enjoy them.”
Ben showered and changed quickly. Ida hadn’t asked if she’d worked all night, and she suspected that was intentional. There could only be two answers. Yes, she had, or no, she’d spent the night somewhere else and almost certainly with someone. Ida Rivers was a very smart woman who knew the value of silence.
When she got back down to the kitchen, Margie sat at the table with her own cup of coffee and a biscuit steaming from the oven and running with melted creamery butter.
“Did you make that butter?” Ben asked Ida.
Ida laughed. “As a matter of fact, no. I have made my own butter, and it’s wonderful, but it’s also time-consuming, and I don’t actually spend all my time in the kitchen.”
Ben helped herself to a biscuit and a slice of ham from a second platter. “I already know you’re a wizard and can probably be doing five things at once.”
“Thank you. How are things going at the hospital?” Ida asked.
“Good,” Ben said. “Busy.”
“I’m asking as a friend, as family, because Brody is one of mine, but you don’t need to say anything that might be inappropriate. Is Val all right?”
“Val is fine, although she’s getting a little impatient with me. She wants to be up and moving, and we’re not quite there yet.” Ben smiled. “She reminds me of Flann that way.”
Margie laughed. “Ooh, I don’t think you should mention that to her.”
“Good advice. But everything looks good.” Ben rose, washed her cup, and grabbed her go bag. Pausing at the door, she said, “By the way, Margie—I don’t have any insider knowledge, but I thought you did a great job at tryouts. When will you find out?”
“Early next week,” Margie said.
“Well, good luck.”
“Thanks. Did you happen to see the boys’ tryouts too?”
“I did,” Ben said. “They’ve got some strong contenders there. Blake showed well.”
Margie blushed and looked down at her biscuit. “That’s good. I thought so too.”
“You can tell him I said so.”
“I will,” Margie called as Ben headed out.
She hadn’t been kidding that both of them had looked very good, and she couldn’t see how either one of them wouldn’t make their respective teams, but sometimes in sports being the best wasn’t the only criterion. Players had to fit well with the team too, have the kind of attitude a coach wanted. She’d seen good players passed over because a coach or even a star player hadn’t thought they would mesh well.
When she got to the OR lounge to wait for her first case to be prepped, she grabbed a second cup of coffee despite knowing it would be a tremendous disappointment after Ida’s.
Flann came in a few minutes later, poured a cup of coffee, and said, “Talk to you a minute?”
“Sure.” Ben followed Flann out into the hall for a little privacy.
“Nothing urgent,” Flann said, “but I need you to come by and talk to me about your contract. You’re only signed on for a year, and I need to know if we’re extending it. Obviously we want you to.”
“It’s a little soon, isn’t it,” Ben said noncommittally.
“We’re having a bit of trouble contracting interested residents, especially more senior people who want to track into sports medicine, because we can’t tell them that you’re going to be here next year. No one wants to join a program in flux. You are not the problem. In fact, you’re the draw, but if a resident thinks you’re going somewhere else next year, they don’t want to come here.”
“I get it,” Ben said.
Initially, she’d planned on giving herself some time to decide her future, concerned she wouldn’t like living without a lot of the conveniences and interests of city life or that the hierarchy of a small rural hospital wouldn’t suit. Neither of those concerns seemed an issue now—in fact they seemed pretty trivial. Other considerations seemed a lot more important than whether she could get Thai takeout—like her just having spent the night with Court. That changed everything. If she stayed, and they didn’t last—and she couldn’t pretend she didn’t want more with Court than just a night now and then—she’d have to see her every day and somehow stop wanting her. Contemplating that left her with a hollow sensation she didn’t want to have to live with. If she planned on leaving at the end of a year, she’d have to stop seeing her now—that was the only fair course, and the last thing she wanted to do.
“Can you give me a few weeks?” Ben asked.
Flann nodded. “Sure. And if there’s anything you want to talk about, you know I’m available.”
“Sure, thanks,” Ben said, quite sure the last thing she’d be doing was talking to Flann about Courtney Valentine.
* * *
“Bye, Mom,” Margie called. “I’m going to Taylor’s later tonight. Be back by midnight unless I stay there.”
“Doing something fun first?” Ida asked.
“Oh.” Margie halted in the doorway. “I’m going to the drive-in with Blake.”
“Isn’t that the Avengers movie?”
“Yeah, that’s second. The first one is some dumb comedy.”
Ida smiled. “That’s different, isn’t it, just you and Blake.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“I hope you have a good time,” Ida said.
“You don’t think it’s weird?”
“That you’re going on a date…Is it still called that, these days?”
Margie rolled her eyes. “Mom. It’s not like you’re from some ancient time or anything.”
Ida snorted. “I won’t even talk about how things used to be—”
“Good. So anyway, yes, we’re hanging out.”
“How is that for you and your friends?”
“It’s good. We’ve all talked about it. Well, Dave and Taylor. And Tim doesn’t talk about a lot of things, usually, but he and Taylor are close, and if he needed to say something, he would.”
“Have fun and be careful, then.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Margie said, “I will.”
She jogged out to her truck and, on the short drive to Blake’s, wondered why she felt a little nervous. That was weird. She’d picked up Blake for a night out about a million times before. And okay, yeah, tonight was different, but not that different. So it would just be the two of them. It was still Blake. Still the person she shared just about everything with—not exclusively, not all the time, because there was Taylor, and Taylor was special. And she talked to Dave and Tim almost as much as Blake. Blake was a friend. The jittery sensation in her middle persisted, but she didn’t have time to worry about it any longer as she pulled up in front of Blake’s new house.
He came down the drive right away and climbed into the passenger seat. His hair was damp, as if he’d just showered, and he had on a short-sleeved button-up shirt and jeans. And loafers. She’d put on a new top she’d been saving for something, she wasn’t sure exactly what, but this seemed like the thing. And capri pants she’d bought one day shopping with Taylor because she liked the light green color, even though she couldn’t possibly wear them around the farm.
“You’re all dressed up,” she said as Blake buckled in.
“So are you.”
“Are we being weird?” Margie said.
“I don’t think so.” Blake paused. “Maybe. You look really nice.”
“So do you.”
The drive-in was a half an hour out of town, and on the way, Margie said, “Ben said you looked good at tryouts. I thought so too.”
“I felt pretty good about it. I keep telling myself, no matter what, at least I didn’t screw it up.”
“No matter what,” Margie said, “you ought to be on the team.”
“Thanks,” Blake said softly.
When they arrived, they got a place in the third row center, and while Margie fiddled to get the sound right, Blake went to the concession stand. He climbed back into the truck and put a couple of sodas in the cup holders on the dash and juggled a cardboard tray of eats before sliding over to the middle of the bench seat.
“I’m glad you wanted to come with me,” Blake said.
“Me too.” Margie went on in a rush, “But I am not ready yet to think about something serious…like being a couple thing.”
Blake actually looked relieved as he nodded quickly. “I know. Me neither, but sometimes…you know, just us is okay, right?”
Margie nodded, stifling the urge to laugh out loud. That was weird, but it felt good. “Sure. Just us.”
Blake moved a little closer until their thighs touched and rested a big cardboard bucket on their legs. “Popcorn?”
Chapter Twenty-three
At just after six in the morning, Court paused at the open door of Val’s private hospital room and peered inside. Only the safety lights above the bed and by the bathroom door illuminated the room. The whole floor was still quiet—the night staff hadn’t yet started morning rounds. Val’s upcoming surgery wasn’t scheduled until seven thirty, and if Val had managed to sleep, Court didn’t want to wake her.
“I’m awake,” Val said.
“Hey, I just wanted to check if you were all set for this morning,” Court said, walking to Val’s bedside.
“I’ve been all set for a week.”
Val sounded cranky at the moment, but Court couldn’t blame her. If she’d been at nearly absolute bed rest for almost a month, she’d be pretty damn cranky too. Val propped herself up on her pillows. She’d long since traded the white cotton hospital gowns with the little blue boats for her own pale blue pj’s with yellow piping, had washed her hair with Court’s help just two days before, and generally looked more like herself than she had in the month since her injury. “I hope you’re not here to tell me something else has gone FUBAR.”
“Nope.” Court smiled. “The chest X-ray Ben wanted last night is crystal clear. So anesthesia will be very happy.”
“I could’ve told them it was going to be fine,” Val said. “A little pneumonia isn’t such a big deal.”
“Um, Val, we kinda think it is.”
Val blew out a breath and pushed her hair back from her face. “I know, I know. But damn it, Court, this sucks, and it’s getting suckier every day. I want out, and I want up on my feet. Ben said—” She sighed and dropped her head back, staring at the ceiling. “I am being a whiny pain in the ass. Sorry.”
“Hey.” Court edged a hip onto the side of the bed and rested her hand on Val’s forearm. “You’re not—well, maybe a little.”
Val laughed.
“But you’re right,” Court went on. “The whole thing has been lousy. No one should have to go through this.”
“I shouldn’t be complaining,” Val said. “I’m alive, I have my leg, and when this is over, I’ll have my life back.”
“It doesn’t make the surgeries or the pain any easier,” Court said, “but you’re right. After the bone graft today, your PT will go into overdrive, and before you know it, you’ll be mobile again.”
“I just want to get home. Back to Brody, back to work, back to the things that make me feel like me.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“It helps I can complain to you. I hate to dump it all on Brody every time I see her. She’s a worrier as it is.”
“I’m happy to listen,” Court said. “Dump away.”
“Thanks.” Val smiled. “So, how are you?”
“Me?” Court didn’t get the question.
Val rolled her eyes. “Yes, you. As in, how’s life. How are things going—the residency, is it what you expected?”
How’s life?
Not what she’d been expecting. Oh sure, she’d been as prepared for the residency as she could have been—the hours, the stress and strain, the situations she’d have to face that she might not be prepared for, like seeing her cousin pinned under a wrecked car. What she hadn’t been prepared for was Ben. A woman who mattered in her life in an entirely new way. How quickly her life had changed because of Ben. On most nights when she wasn’t on call or they weren’t at a game, they met for dinner, relaxing at her place afterward, making love until one of them insisted they go to sleep because they both had to work in the morning. More often than not that was Ben, who always seemed to be thinking about her. About what she needed or wanted. That was new, different, unsettlingly special. She’d never felt that way with anyone before. She’d never felt about anyone that way before. Ben turned her on the way no one ever had, but more than that, she brought excitement to sharing everyday things and wonder to the quiet moments when they woke together. Ben rocked her world, and she couldn’t be happier. Except when she thought about all of that ending—of waking one morning and finding Ben gone.
“Something wrong?” Val asked.
“No,” Court said quickly. Whatever happened to her motto of living in the moment? Ben had happened—Ben had made her want to think about tomorrow. “No, not at all. The residency’s fine. I wouldn’t say it’s exactly fun all the time, but it’s what I expected, and definitely what I want.”
“And ortho? You mentioned before it was a possibility. You still leaning that way?”
Faced with the question, she didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, I am. I haven’t scrubbed on that many cases, but it’s got everything I like—emergencies, reconstruction, even the rehab. And sports medicine.”
“Are you going to switch?”
“Ah, I don’t know. That might be complicated.”
“Why?”
“Well, I…” How to explain she wouldn’t have a problem being an ortho resident and seeing one of the ortho staff—Ben wouldn’t be signing off on her residency certificate, after all—but that Ben would see it as a problem.
Val pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Something personal? Is someone making life difficult for you? One of the more senior residents?”
“No, no. I’m fine.” Court’s throat tightened. No one in her adult life had ever sounded as if they were about to go to battle for her. No one, except Ben, who cared about everything she did—when she ate, when she slept, how she felt about an upcoming case. What she wanted in bed. But this, Val’s concern, this was different. This was like family. “I’m kind of involved with someone.”
