Chapter Six

Doc

I shouldn't be here. Sitting around a table with Nat, Gladys, and her niece. But the desperation in Nat's voice when she asked me to stay did me in. I doubt she's used to asking for help any more than I'm used to socializing.

She stays on the fringes of the conversation. Only interacting when one of us asks her a direct question. Deflecting before anything can get too personal. She plays with a piece of sea glass under the table. I'm not even sure she knows she's running nervous fingers along the smooth edges over and over again.

Gladys leans back in her chair and pierces me with a hard stare. "So, you worked in the ER, Doc?"

"For nine years, ma'am."

She rolls her eyes at me. "If you expect me to let you sink your teeth into my famous peach pie, you'll stop with the ‘ma'am' shit."

I choke on a sip of water. For the love of God, that better not be a euphemism. Across the table, Nat stifles a laugh.

"Aunt Gladys!" Bella hisses under her breath.

"What?" The older woman frowns. "I didn't say anythin' embarrassing. This time."

Bella leans over and whispers in her aunt's ear. Gladys starts to cackle.

"Dr. Sexy Pants ain't interested in my ass, sweet girl. He's only got eyes for Nat there."

"Oh, God. Gladys, we talked about this. You promised you'd stop trying to fix me up with—with anyone."

"I'm tired of watchin' you wither away here alone, baby girl," Gladys retorts.

"I'm not ‘withering away.' I'm doing just fine. Except now, I need some air." Nat scoots back from the table and darts through the patio door to the deck.

No one says a word for a full minute. Then Gladys huffs. "Well, don't just sit there, Doc. Go after her. Bella can take care of the pie." Gladys crosses her arms over her chest and stares me down.

I have to put a stop to this. For Nat's sake as well as mine. "The only thing I have eyes for, Gladys, is dessert. I'm not a good bet. Nat knows it. I'd appreciate it if you'd stop trying to fix us up." Despite my words, I stride after the woman who's starred in more than one of my dreams since we met a few weeks ago.

I find her looking out over the water with her elbows resting on the railing. She's playing with the smooth, light green piece of glass, and I still her fingers. The heart-shaped bauble falls into my hand.

"The ocean is amazing, isn't it?" I ask. "To be able to take something broken with all its sharp edges and turn it into…something so soft and beautiful?"

"I found that my first day on the island." Her tone turns wistful. "Right where your campsite is now. I don't know why I keep it."

With a shrug, I press it back into her palm. "Not everything in life needs a reason."

Silence stretches the seconds, longer and longer until it's all I can hear. She hasn't relaxed even a fraction. If anything, she's more tense now than when I came out here. "You okay?"

She sighs, shifting a little further away from me before she risks darting a glance in my direction. "That woman is a menace. I love her, but she never listens."

"How long have you known Gladys?" I ask.

A small smile tugs at Nat's lips. "Four and a half years. The day after I took this job, she knocked on my door with an apple pie, a bottle of vodka, and a French press."

"A French press? Why a French press?" I'm fascinated by the old woman's thought process. And still a little worried about her mental state.

"Because Clancy—he owns the resort and the house I live in—took his fancy espresso machine with him when he moved to Florida. Gladys worries about anyone who doesn't start the day with a hit of caffeine."

"I know a few guys like that. And I probably shouldn't talk. I bring coffee with me every trip."

Nat chuckles. "I'd been drinking instant for a couple of years at that point. My first press was almost a religious experience." We're close enough for the heat of her to seep into my forearm. "After a few weeks, she started showing up with ‘leftovers' that weren't really leftovers. She ‘made too much.' She ‘wasn't used to cooking for just one person.' Even though she'd been doing it for almost twenty years."

Glancing over my shoulder, I watch Bella cut slices of pie while Gladys leans back in her chair and closes her eyes. Every one of her eighty-two years is etched on her face, but there's life left in her. A lot of it. That woman isn't one to go quietly into that goodnight. She'll fight—kicking and screaming—until she murders the Grim Reaper himself. Then try to fix him up with one of the Fates.

Nat and I move at the same time—in the same direction—and our legs tangle in such a way, she loses her balance and topples into me.

"Whoa. I've got you."

Having her in my arms feels like the most natural thing in the world. She peers up at me, shock parting her lips, and need darkening her eyes. It would be so easy to dip my head and kiss her.

"I'm not a good bet."

"I'm—" Before I can apologize, she plants her hands on my hips, rises onto her toes, and seals her mouth to mine.

One taste. One touch. One moment I don't feel quite so alone.

But then she jerks back.

"Shit." Tears shimmer in her gaze. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have?—"

"Don't." I slide my hand into her hair and tighten my grip on the wavy strands. Two steps to the left, and we're hidden from view. Nat melts in my arms, letting me take control. I nip along the edge of her smart mouth, then flick my tongue gently over the seam. She opens for me with a moan.

Her nipples tighten into sharp points. Fuck. Can she feel my hard length against her stomach? God, I wish we were alone. At her house. Or my tent. Anywhere but here.

Nat's hands slide down my back. When her fingers dig into my ass, my control snaps. "We have to get out of here." I close my teeth over the shell of her ear. "Fuck the pie."

"Yes. Right. Okay. But," she extricates herself from my arms, "if Gladys figures out why, she'll start planning a damn wedding."

"Call me." I take her face in my hands so I can plant a hard, swift kiss to her lips. "Just let it ring. I'll say it's an emergency and I have to go."

"And I'll offer you a ride?" she asks breathlessly.

Fuck. Her pupils are half blown. I push her against the railing, then give one of her nipples a hard pinch. Her yelp is lost to my mouth on hers.

"Yes. God. I have to calm down before I walk back in there." Turning away, I run through the names of all fifty states. Then all the countries I served in. My high school teachers. All the bones in the human foot. Anything to take my mind off what's about to happen.

When I get my dick under control, I swallow hard. "Call me. Now. Before…"

She nods, pulls her phone from her pocket, and dials.

"Mr. Sexy Pants!" Gladys calls. "Your bag is ringin'!"

I rush back inside and dig for the sat phone. "Dammit. Gladys, I'm sorry. I have to go. It was nice to meet you, Bella. Uh…call me?—"

"Ahem." Gladys wobbles to her feet and, faster than should be possible, snatches the phone from behind Nat's back. "I'm old, Doc. Not stupid." She ends the fake call, presses the device into Nat's hand, and pats her arm. "Go on, baby girl. Get out of here. And don't you be coming back here tonight. Bella can take care of me just fine."

The ride to Nat's house feels like it takes forever. My dick is so hard, it's painful, and Nat keeps shifting on the ATV's seat, which isn't helping.

She grabs my hand when we stop and practically drags me inside. The house smells like her. Along with hints of coffee. A single light next to the couch provides a gentle glow. Masculine colors, no hints of comfort. Nothing personal. But before I can wonder why, she flips the lock and reaches for me.

We don't make it to the bedroom. Nat has her legs wrapped around my hips two steps from the door. "Couch. Now," she says between desperate kisses.

I sink down with her still in my arms. She grinds her hips, and I let out a groan.

My fingers curl around the hem of her tank top, and I tug it up and over her head. A simple, black bra frames her breasts, and it's the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen.

"Fuck, baby. I've wanted you since the first day I met you. I knew you'd feel like this."

"Like what?" Her hands snake under my t-shirt, and short nails drag along my pecs and down to my belt. She flicks the catch, then the button on my pants.

I lie her down and straddle her. Gently, I nip at the curve of her neck to her collarbone. "Home."

Her entire body stiffens. With a sharp gasp, she tries to scramble out from under me. "No. Stop. Stop!"

I'm on my feet in a second, hands in the air. "What happened? Did I do something wrong?"

Tears shimmer in her eyes. "N-no. It's not…you, Doc. God, it's not you." Grabbing her tank top off the floor, she backs up slowly. "But I need you to leave. I'm not good with…relationships. There's a reason my only friend is an eighty-two-year-old woman who doesn't take no for an answer. This…was a mistake."

"Nat—" Fuck. I can't argue with her. I'm too messed up to be good for anyone. "I told Gladys I wasn't a good bet. I haven't had a relationship in years—because I'm not good with them either. But that's not what this was. I'm sorry if I gave you that impression."

"You didn't," she says softly. "But that doesn't change things. I'll tell Gladys it didn't work out. That we just didn't click. Please, please do the same?"

My heart aches to demand Nat talk to me. That she tell me the real reason she went from jumping me to kicking me out of her house. But instead, I back toward the door.

"Whatever you need, Nat. But…I wish you'd tell me why."

A single tear glistens on her cheek as I step outside and she hovers at the door. Determination and longing battle in her eyes. "Gladys wants everyone to have what she had once. True love. She doesn't realize some of us were destined to be alone."

I grit my teeth all the way down the hill to my campsite. I can't get Nat's last words out of my head.

Some of us were destined to be alone.

She's not wrong. I had my chance at happiness and let it slip through my fingers. I won't get another. But dammit if I didn't think I could have one night where I didn't feel so alone.

By the time I dump sand on the dying embers in the fire pit, all the lights in her house are off. I'd give almost anything to hear her voice right now. But we're strangers, and after tonight, I'm certain that's never going to change.

So I stretch out in my sleeping bag and wonder when I became such a goddamn hypocrite.