Love Blooms on Main Street (2 page)

Ivy tensed. “No, of course. Are you—” Kicking herself for even posing the question, she finished, “Are you… in town for long?”

“Not sure.” He frowned slightly. “I just drove up yesterday.”

She fought back the twinge of hurt that he had been back in town for a day and hadn't called. Just as quickly, she reminded herself that he was probably busy with his mother and brother, especially since he hadn't seen them in a while. He'd probably planned on coming into town today, stopping in to say hello, ask her when she closed for the day…

Or maybe… just maybe he hadn't planned on doing any of those things. Maybe the fact was the man was just a jerk, someone who'd kissed her, had a little fun with her, run his hands up and down her skin, and then never given her a second thought.

Her stomach knotted at the thought. Silence stretched. She waited for him to say something more, maybe suggest dinner, or even drinks. Instead, he said nothing at all. He just stared at her with those dark, determined eyes. Stared at the beads of sweat that she uneasily suspected had collected along her hairline.

“Well, I guess I'll see you again while you're in town,” she said carefully. Just the right amount of insinuation. Just the right amount of suggestion.

“Yeah, probably. But I should really get going. It was good seeing you, Ivy!” Brett grinned, but before she could respond, he thumped her on the upper arm and went on his merry way. No mention of the kiss. No suggestion of a get-together. Not even an invitation for a lukewarm cup of coffee from the hospital cafeteria.

Ivy stood in stunned silence, her mouth still slack from her unspoken response, and stared at the metal elevator doors, catching her blurred reflection. She didn't look happy. In fact, she looked downright crestfallen.

For the second time in a matter of months, Brett had managed to turn her world upside down. Only this time, not in the way she had hoped.

I
vy narrowed her eyes at the silver-framed medical chart that hung on the otherwise bare white wall of the examination room. To think of the time she'd wasted on that man! To think of the energy, the emotion, the hope! For what? Some cad in a white coat? He'd been such a
nice
boy growing up—quiet and studious, so different than the other guys she knew—but now…

Now he was no different than the others she'd dated throughout her twenties. No different than the fleeting series of dates she'd had on and off over the years with men who seemed so promising at first and ended up being a complete disappointment. Each time she'd told herself, good riddance, no matter, he wasn't the one, and each time, in the back of her mind, she thought of Brett. Sweet, brown-eyed Brett who was so easy to talk to, so easy on the eyes, so serious, smart, funny, and… perfect. And she'd thought, if only he'd just move back to town, then maybe…

A tear began to fall and she brushed it away before her doctor came into the room and started jumping to false conclusions. It had been a night of fun, as weddings usually were. She'd built it up to be more than it was. And that hurt. A lot. And as soon as she got out of this damn appointment, she was going to go home and erase every reminder of that evening from her life, starting with the crimson bridesmaid's dress.

Always a bridesmaid
, she thought, thinking of the upcoming weddings with newfound dread. It would be difficult enough to sit through Henry's, but at least she'd be busy, sister of the groom and all, but Anna and Mark's would pose a new challenge, as Brett would certainly be there as brother of the groom. They hadn't set a date yet—too busy running their restaurant to find the time. Selfishly, this had tried her patience. Until today. With any luck, they'd just elope.

Two knocks gave her ample warning to swipe her fingers under her eyes before her doctor opened the door, his balding head bent over a clipboard. He flipped a page and settled himself onto a stool before looking up at where she sat on the edge of the examination table. “The bloodwork looks good,” he said. His eyes roamed over her through his wire-framed glasses. “How have you been feeling?”

“Fine. Great.”
Never worse
.

“Any dizziness?” He stood and removed his stethoscope from his neck.

She decided not to mention her little jog through the parking lot and the hit she'd immediately taken. If she tried to explain, it would just lead to a line of questioning she didn't want to deal with and a lecture about her daily routine. She'd pushed herself a little too hard; it was hardly the same as the mistakes she'd made in her past. “Nope, not really. I've been following the diet plan you gave me.”

“Good.” He pressed the stethoscope to her back. “Big breath in.”

Ivy did as she was told, wondering if the metal object could decipher a broken heart. But the doctor pulled back, seemingly satisfied, and made a note on the chart.

“You're taking your insulin every day?” He gave her a long, pointed look.

Ivy swallowed hard. “Haven't missed a dose.”
Not in seven months
was the unspoken understanding. Not since the last time she'd been chauffeured to the emergency room by an ambulance back in the fall.

She wouldn't be making that mistake again.

“Good. Monitoring your blood glucose throughout the day?”

Ivy nodded again and forced herself not to sigh as the questioning continued. She deserved it, after all. In time she'd hopefully convince her doctor that she was behaving responsibly. And her brother, she thought, thinking of the stern talking-to that Henry had given her when he'd come back to town to clean up her mess last year.

“I'm taking my meds now,” she said. When the doctor cocked an eyebrow, she confirmed, “All my meds. Not skipping doses.” It had been risky, she knew, but years ago when she was feeling okay, it was sometimes easy to pretend everything was fine, that she wasn't sick, that she didn't have to worry about pesky things like insulin shots and blood glucose levels. That she could just be normal.

When had she ever been normal, though?
Never
, she thought, shuddering when she recalled the gossip that used to fly around town about their mother.

“I'm writing you a prescription that will take you through our next appointment.”

“I'll be there,” Ivy said, taking the slip of paper. When the doctor held her gaze, she swallowed a sigh. “I promise.”

And she would be there, because she didn't want another trip to the ER. And because if her condition didn't kill her that time, then Henry sure as hell would.

Well, that rut was behind her now. In time, she'd find a way to pay back her brother, even if he neither wanted it nor expected it.

“The pharmacy downstairs is open today.” The doctor's hint was more of an order and another deflating reminder of how irresponsible she'd been.

The thought of lingering in this building, where Brett was roaming the halls, was enough to make her break into a cold sweat, but allowing that to happen would only ring the alarm bells and lead to another sugar reading, so Ivy hopped off the table, willed herself to ignore all emotions, and said, like the coolheaded adult that she was, “I'll do that right now.”

She grazed her back teeth together as she slowly walked to the elevator and pressed the button, bracing herself for the sight of those long legs, broad shoulders, and silky brown hair she'd tangled through her fingers. What was he doing here anyway? She supposed just as he said—a meeting. A professional reason to be back in the area. Certainly not a personal one, she thought bitterly.

She held her breath as the doors slid open seconds later, and let a long sigh roll through her shoulders when she locked eyes with an elderly man proudly clutching a bouquet of pink roses. “New great-grandbaby,” he boasted, and Ivy gave a weak smile in return. She didn't have the heart to tell him he was taking the elevator in the wrong direction. Besides, if she missed this ride, there was no telling what—or who—would be behind the next set of doors.

“Congratulations.” She stepped inside, pressed the button for the lobby level, and waited for the doors to close. The elevator moved slowly, its descent noted on the illuminated numbers near the ceiling. Chances were he'd be gone, she reminded himself. He'd had an appointment. Unless that was just an excuse. She was no stranger to those—empty promises to “do it again sometime,” or loose suggestions of a phone call that never came. Just once she'd like a man to tell her straight up that he wasn't interested. No more bull. No more dancing around the obvious. No more trying to spare her feelings in the wake of saving face.

She was a big girl. She could take it.

Still, as the elevator settled itself and the doors once again spread open, revealing an ever-broadening view of the wide-open atrium, with its glass ceilings and not so much as a potted plant to hide behind, Ivy felt her heart began to pound. She swept her eyes quickly over the room, hurried to the pharmacy, and snatched a random magazine on her way to the counter.

She slid the prescription to the pharmacist and darted her gaze to the right and then the left, careful not to move her neck. “I'm in a bit of a hurry,” she explained. “Maybe I should come back—”

“This should only take ten minutes.” The woman gave a pleasant smile.

Ivy glanced out to the atrium. Every second that ticked by was another chance to run into Brett. And she didn't want to. Once, she would have loved nothing more. But she'd clearly been a fool then.

Ivy slid into a chair at the far end of the row against the back wall and opened the car racing magazine in front of her face.

So maybe she was overreacting. The chances of Brett stopping into the pharmacy were slim; she doubted he'd be picking up a prescription or stopping in to browse the periodicals, and there were vending machines for snacks all over the building. She'd carefully touched up her makeup with the few cosmetics she carried in her handbag while she was waiting for her doctor to get the test results, and so while she certainly looked better than she had during their little run-in, she didn't want to repeat the event. Ever. In fact, she'd be quite happy never seeing Brett again in her life. Never being reminded of the dream he had shattered. Never being reminded of the tingle of her lips long after they'd been pulled back into the reception to wave off Grace and Luke…

He'd probably been drunk. Either way, one thing was clear, and that was that Brett Hastings hadn't enjoyed that kiss as much as she had.

“Ivy?”

At the sound of her name, Ivy startled, dropped the magazine onto the floor and turned, white-faced, to the woman standing above her. “Dr. Kessler!”

“You sound relieved,” Suzanne Kessler remarked with an amused smile. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“You surprised me,” Ivy said, waiting for her pulse to resume a normal speed. “How's your daughter?” It had been nearly a year since Ivy had overseen the flowers for the Kesslers' youngest daughter's wedding: white French tulips mixed with Queen Anne's lace. Simple, slightly old-fashioned, but intrinsically elegant.

“Never better,” Suzanne said. “I've been meaning to come by the store and give you some photos from the wedding. People still stop me to comment on the centerpieces.”

Ivy couldn't deny the pride she felt hearing this.

“In fact, I'm happy I ran into you today. I don't know if you're aware, but the Forest Ridge Hospital puts on a fundraising event each year. It's a big to-do; all the donors come out, there's a silent auction, and the proceeds go exclusively to the hospital.”

“I'd be happy to donate something for the auction,” Ivy ventured, thinking of what kind of exposure that would give her. Business was steady in Briar Creek, but a few more big weddings and events a year would go a long way.

“Actually, I had something else in mind. We don't hire an event planner—we'd rather put the money toward the hospital—so in the past, I've helped oversee things. Could we hire you to do the flowers? It's a big event, so if you don't have the time I understand.”

Have the time? She would
make
the time. “When is the event?”

“Not until August,” Suzanne said. “Do I take that as a yes?”

Ivy thought of Brett, roaming the halls, stepping off that elevator as if he owned the place, and then dismissed her concerns. “Yes!” Ivy stood to shake the woman's hand. “Yes, absolutely. And thank you.”

“You have a real artistic eye,” Suzanne said warmly. “So consider the thanks all mine.” At that moment, the doctor's pager beeped. She glanced down with a tired sigh and glanced back at Ivy. “I'll be in touch soon.”

Ivy nodded and walked over to the pharmacy counter to check on her medication. She hadn't done a big event in a while, and this was just the kind of project that would help take her mind off that kiss… and today's disappointment.

Ten minutes later, as promised, she was paying an outrageous amount of money for three months' worth of her medication and then speed-walking through the lobby with a darting eye and as much feigned nonchalance as she could muster.

For once her car decided to cooperate, starting after only a few good whacks on the hood, but her heart felt heavy as she wound her way out of the garage and back onto the main road that led to Briar Creek.

She'd spent enough time thinking about Brett Hastings, living in a dream world and drifting off from reality. Now was the time to think about herself again. Her business. Her health. And the gig that could finally bring her out of the red and give her a chance to repay her brother once and for all. She'd go back to the shop and come up with some sketches, work out a color theme to present to Suzanne when she called. She'd stay focused, busy herself with what she loved, and eventually that kiss would be as forgotten as it was to Brett. And so would he.

Brett Hastings never stuck around Briar Creek for long. With any luck, he'd been gone again by tomorrow, not to return again for a long, long time.

Brett Hastings adjusted his position in the low-backed visitor's chair and willed himself not to fall asleep. The only thing keeping him from drifting off was the hard wooden seat digging into his middle vertebrae. He'd known the twenty-two-hour shift he'd pulled before getting behind the wheel for nine hours yesterday had been a mistake, but he'd assumed by the time he reached his mom's house, he'd collapse into his childhood bed and sleep like a baby. How easy it was to forget that the single bed frame was almost as uncomfortable as the break room in the ER, and between his calves hanging off the edge of the mattress and the cold grip of reality taking hold, he'd only managed a few fitful hours of sleep before the smell of percolating coffee roused him, reminding him, with sinking dread, that he wasn't in his sleek apartment in Baltimore anymore.

The director of the emergency department was staring at him over the length of his long nose and Brett had the unnerving suspicion he'd posed a question Brett hadn't quite caught.

Ignoring the twitch in his left eye, Brett shifted his weight on the chair again. “I'm sorry, could you clarify?”

Dr. Gardner frowned slightly before saying, “Forest Ridge is a relatively small hospital. The closest trauma center is in Burlington. It's hardly the pace you were used to in a city like Baltimore. So tell me, why us?”

Because he was out of options. Because he didn't know where else to look on such short notice. Because he didn't need an employment gap on his résumé while he looked for something long-term.

Because as much as he hated to admit it, maybe he could use a break from the fast pace of an inner-city hospital. And because maybe by coming back here, even for a little while, he could put the guilt at bay once and for all, focus on his family for a bit, even if deep down he knew it couldn't make up for lost time.