I march out of his office, slamming the door behind me. I may have overreacted just a tiny bit. Okay, more than a tiny bit. But I hate lavender more than anything. I still feel nauseated from the stench of that soap. I almost feel like I need to take a shower now to get it off me.
Usually, I’m the last one at the office, but today I quickly finish my documentation and get going as soon as I’m done with my last patient. When I get into the waiting area, Harper and Sheila are both pulling on their coats.
“Hey, Nora,” Sheila says. “Harper and I are going out for drinks and to talk about what a dirtbag Sonny is. Want to come?”
Ordinarily, yes. I would want to go with them. I want to be supportive for Harper and make sure this little setback doesn’t trip her up on her path into medicine. But sitting at a bar with Sheila and Harper and pretending to care about something as mundane asmen… I just can’t do it tonight.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’ve got to head home.”
Harper frowns at me. “Are you still upset about that patient? The one who died.”
Of course, after the detective left, I told them about Amber Swanson. I had to. But I left out the part where I was a suspect because she was mutilated exactly the same way my serial killer father used to do tohisvictims. Nobody at this office knows that I was born Nora Nierling. And they never will.
“I’m just tired,” I lie. “But have a good time.”
Sheila and Harper make disappointed faces, but they don’t try any harder to convince me to come with them. I’m their boss, so it’s awkward. Moreover, I’m not particularly fun. I know that much about myself. They’ll have a better time without me.
When I get in my car, I intend to drive home like I told them. But instead, I find myself taking a detour. I’m going to Christopher’s for the third time in three days. Except thistime I’m not looking for an Old Fashioned.
When I get into the dark bar, right away I see Brady making drinks. He’s doing something with a cocktail shaker, and I can see the muscles standing out in his arms. A little shiver goes through me. I’ve been depriving myself a long time, but I need this now.
I love the way his face lights up when he sees me. He finishes up with his customer, then he comes right over to me. “Another Old Fashioned?”
I look up into his eyes as I slide the umbrella he lent me across the bar. “When do you get off work?”
A surprised grin spreads across his face. “In an hour.”
“Good.”
“So…” He lifts an eyebrow. “You’re finally going to let me take you out to dinner then?”
I shake my head. “No. Your place.”
His smile falters slightly. I don’t know whether to be hurt or flattered that he was hoping for something more with me than a one-night stand. “Oh…”
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“No,” he says quickly. “I want to.Definitely. But you don’t want to grab a bite first or…?”
“No. I want to go straight to your place.”
He blinks a few times. “Okay then. So… I guess just wait here and hang tight.”
“For an hour,” I say.
“Right. An hour. Don’t move, okay?”
I end up letting him make me the Old Fashioned, and he insists it’s on the house. I spend the next hour sipping on my drink, pretending to surf the web on my phone, butactually watching Brady out of the corner of my eye. He doesn’t talk to me much because it’s a busy night at the bar and he’s got a lot of customers to take care of, but every few minutes, he catches my eye and grins at me.
I get a flashback to my first date with Brady, what feels like a million years ago. That was a proper date. He showed up at the door to my single room wearing a crisp white dress shirt and even a tie. He looked distinctly uncomfortable in the tie, and soon after we were seated at the Italian restaurant where he took me, I leaned in and said to him, “Do you want to take off your tie?”
“Uh…” His fingers automatically flew to the knot. “Is there something wrong with it?”
“You just look like you hate it.”
“I…” He tugged on the tie. “Yes. You’re right. I hate it.”
“Then why did you wear it?”
