Perfectly Reasonable (18 page)

Chapter 39

Trace sat at the island in his kitchen finishing a bowl of Cap’n Crunch. He eyed his computer. It held his future.

The offers were sent out at 8 a.m. It was now ten. He hadn’t set his alarm. He wasn’t in a hurry to find out because if he didn’t get in, well, he didn’t want to think about it. He finished the last scoop of cereal and took another sip of coffee. Fortifying sugar and caffeine.

If he didn’t get in.

He gave a large sigh. If he didn’t get in, it would really, really suck.

He’d tried to keep a bit of distance from Margo. When she told him she was going back to start a family medicine residency, it felt like someone took a sledgehammer to his heart. He couldn’t compete with that. He wouldn’t be any good to her. He realized he loved her. She was everything he’d ever need, but she would need more. What was that saying, ‘if you loved someone, set them free?’ Or some such shit.

He rubbed his chest absently. He had tried to keep his distance to see if that would help. It hadn’t. He had seen her at Breaking Bread, of course. On the Tuesday after the ball hockey tournament, he had dried dishes while she washed. He loved her quick wit, the way she saw the world, her goodness, her patience. He loved the way her curls got curlier as she stood over the hot water. His body stirred as he pictured her naked, reflected in the glass with his arms around her.

He shook himself impatiently. Remembering shit like that wasn’t going to help. If he didn’t get into medical school, he would have to walk away.

He took another sip of coffee.

Okay Bennett, get it done. Open the freakin’ computer.

Trace wiped damp palms on his trackpants and opened his laptop. He punched in his password.

Please wait while we update windows. Do not shut off your computer.

Holy fuck.

Three agonizing minutes later, it was one hundred percent complete.

He clicked on his email and waited for the new mail to download.

Cantech University Congratulations! You have been accepted . . .

He hopped off the bar stool and leapt up, punching the air with his fist. “Yes!” He raised both hands in the air and jumped again.

He took a deep breath and tried to slow his racing heart. “Yes.” He perched on the edge of the bar stool and opened the email.

He was in. There it was in beautiful black and white. How sweet was that. Yes. He did it. He punched the air again.

He needed to tell Margo.

It was Friday. She should be painting at the new development his father was building. He had to see her. He had to tell her in person.

He did it. He got in. He was going to be a doctor.

He shut his computer with a click and finished the last of his coffee.

Life was good. He jumped again.

He changed into a T-shirt and jeans, grabbed the keys to his car, and headed out.

Trace pulled into the makeshift parking lot in front of the site trailer at the new development.

Inside, a foreman leaned against the wall, sipping a coffee. Trace greeted the secretary sitting at the desk. “Is Margo MacMillan around? Painting?”

The secretary checked the schedule. “She is. Number eighty-two, fourth on the left,” she said, eyeing him curiously.

Trace smiled. “Thanks.”

He walked the short distance feeling like he was floating on air. Yes. He was in. It was singing in his head.

He opened the front door of the bungalow and stepped inside.

She was painting in the foyer and turned to look when the door opened. In paint-spattered shorts and T-shirt, her hair pinned up, loose curls that just couldn’t be tamed framing her face, her blue eyes lighting up when she saw him, she was beautiful. Simply beautiful.

“I got in,” he said.

She gasped. “Congratulations!” She set the brush down and jumped into his waiting arms. “Congratulations, Trace,” she whispered in his ear.

He held her tight and breathed deeply. His world tilted. Everything felt right. He pulled back and smiled at the tears shimmering in her eyes.

“I’m so excited for you,” she said, with a watery smile.

He laughed and pressed his lips to her. She met him hungrily. Their tongues danced and his lips tasted. He savored the sweetness.

He pulled back to look her in the eyes. “I had to share it with you first. I know I’ve said this a million times, but I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you.” He caught her lips in a gentle kiss. “I have to go tell my folks, but you’ll celebrate with me tonight?”

Margo smiled. “I’d love to, but won’t your parents want to celebrate with you?”

“I’ll save another night for them. Tonight, I want to be with you.”

She reached out and hugged him close. “I’d love that.”

“I’ll pick you up at home. Seven o’clock?”

“Sounds perfect.”

After another quick kiss, he turned to go. She reached out and squeezed his hand. “Dr. Bennett. Wow.”

He laced his fingers with hers and grinned.

He left her reluctantly and strode to his car. He had a lot to do before seven.

Chapter 40

Trace knocked on Margo’s door and smiled when he saw the shadow cross the peephole. See, he was a good influence. She pulled open the door, and he leaned in to kiss her. He would never tire of it.

“I wasn’t sure how to dress,” she said, looking at his slacks and dress shirt. “Is this okay?”

Trace looked at the soft flowy dress that hugged her curves and left her long legs bare to mid-thigh, her feet in dainty gold sandals. “You look beautiful.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Thank you. You look incredibly hot.”

Trace laughed. “What I was after,” he said. He held her sweater while she locked the door and slipped his hand in hers as they made their way outside.

“I guess I’ll finally see your car?” she asked, squeezing his hand.

He looked at her and then nodded at the limousine waiting at the curb. “We’re celebrating, so I snagged the company limo again.”

The driver opened the door, and Margo climbed in and adjusted her dress. Trace sat beside her and handed her a glass of champagne. “To you Margo, beautiful, gifted, and generous.”

Margo held up her glass. “To you Trace, brilliant and dedicated with a huge heart. Congratulations.”

They clinked glasses and sipped.

Margo swallowed and then looked at him with shining eyes. “It’s a double celebration. They accepted my application for the family medicine residency. I’m in.”

“That’s fantastic news,” he said with a laugh. “Congratulations.” He leaned over and kissed her. “Of course, it shouldn’t be a surprise. How could they not accept you?”

Trace took an extra sip of his champagne and tried to relax the tense muscles between his shoulder blades. He had made it over one hurdle getting into medical school, but the bigger hurdle was still to come.

The limousine pulled into his dad’s new housing development and stopped in front of a two-story house tucked away on a quiet crescent.

Margo threw him a questioning look. The driver opened the door, and Trace stepped out and reached for Margo’s hand. He tipped the driver and stood on the sidewalk with Margo as the limo pulled away.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“Of the house?” Margo stared at it. “It’s gorgeous. I love the dark brown brick, the black window frames, and the little balcony. I painted a similar one last week, and the layout is spectacular. The architect who designed it is a genius.”

“It’s Jacob’s work.”

“Your brother? Wow. Talented family.” She grinned.

He tugged her hand. “Let’s go inside.”

She hesitated a moment, but at the pull, followed his lead. Trace took out a key and opened the door, then stepped back and swept Margo into his arms to carry her over the threshold. Margo laughed and clung to his shoulder. “Don’t dislocate your shoulder again,” she warned.

Trace kissed her. “You’re too light for that.”

He set her down inside the door, and Margo looked around. Straight ahead, soft light filled a dining room with a small table set for two. A crisp white tablecloth fell to the floor, and candles surrounded a bouquet of red roses.

Trace followed her gaze. “I have to light the candles. I didn’t want to burn the house down before we got here.”

Margo glanced at him. “Wise. I’m surprised your dad’s letting you use the house. Hasn’t it been sold?”

“He was okay with it. Come on, I want to show you something.” They took the stairs to the right. “The sitting room is there.” He pointed to the area opposite the staircase on the main floor. “The kitchen’s behind it. And there are three bedrooms up here.”

At the end of the hall, he opened double doors to the master suite and smiled when Margo sighed with pleasure.

A queen-sized bed sat across from a picture window. Flowers tumbled out of vases around the room. The faint perfume of orchids filled the air. Spring tulips, daisies, roses in every color, and vibrant birds of paradise were tucked into vases.

“And through here . . .” Trace said, showing her a sparkling bathroom in white and pale gray marble, a glass shower stall with a rain head and body jets, and a deep tub filled with steamy water and rippling bubbles.

“That looks very inviting,” Margo said.

“That’s what I thought, too.”

Margo reached over and slowly unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off his shoulders. Then she stepped back and lifted her dress over her head.

Trace’s body stirred at the lacy bits of fabric she wore. He shed his pants and stood naked, watching Margo’s eyes darken when her gaze roamed over him.

She turned her back to Trace. “Can you help me with the clasp?”

Trace stepped closer, aching to touch, and released the fabric. He slid he hands around her ribcage and cupped the fullness of her breasts in his hands.

He pressed against her, loving the smooth softness of her skin. “I’ve heard a thong can be uncomfortable. Maybe I should help you with that.”

“Hmmm,” Margo hummed.

His hands were busy.

Much later, Margo arched her back and stretched luxuriously. “I could so get used to this,” she purred.

Trace, lying on his side on the bed beside her, ran his fingers from her neck, down around the fullness of her breast, and across her belly. “Could you?”

“Absolutely. Sensory overload in a bath full of bubbles, a rough tumble in sateen sheets. You by my side. What’s not perfect about that?” She smiled and brushed the side of his face.

Trace stilled and looked at her. He brushed his lips against hers and then reached across to the bedside table. He fished behind the vase of flowers, pulled out a small box, and handed it to her.

Margo’s eyes widened, and she sat up. He could see her heart pounding in her chest. She took the box with shaking hands and slowly lifted the lid. She stared at the ring, and then at him.

“I love you, Margo. I can’t imagine anything more perfect than you by my side every day. I love your smile.” He traced a hand over her lips. “Your heart.” He traced a hand over her heart. “I love the way you think.” He ran his hands over her curls and brushed away a tear. “I love you, Margo. Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” She laughed and wiped the tears impatiently with the back of her hand. “I love you, Trace,” she whispered.

His breath caught, and his heart swelled at the words. The sweetest words ever. He took the ring from the box and slid it on her finger. “Perfect fit.”

“Yes,” Margo said, looking him in the eye. “You’re my perfect fit.” She laughed and threw her arms around his neck, holding him close. He held her tightly and felt a surge of pleasure.

Now life was complete.

They lit the candles, ate filet mignon, and drank champagne in the dining room. Margo couldn’t get enough of the sweet scent of the roses. It had been a magical evening.

She admired the radiant diamond on her finger. She twisted it in the light and watched as it shimmered in a rainbow of color. “I didn’t expect this,” she said quietly.

“No? I’ve loved you for a while.”

Margo’s heart swirled. She paused. “You seemed so,” she waved her hand, “distant and quiet after the tournament. I thought I’d lost you.”

Trace nodded slowly. “You told me you were going back to medicine.”

Margo gave him a puzzled look. “Why did that change things?”

“It meant I had to take a step back until I found out whether I was accepted into medical school. If you were going to practice medicine, you’d need someone far better than me to support you.”

“You mean financially? I’ve been supporting myself financially for a long time.”

“No, not financially. Emotionally. You’re going to be dealing with a ton of shit, like the examples you gave me, like my interview. You need someone by your side who understands all that, who can say the right things, who gets it.”

“Trace.” She reached out and interlocked her fingers with his hand resting on the table. “Getting into medical school doesn’t change who you are. You’re loyal, compassionate, and generous. You already listen and say the right things. You don’t need a medical degree for that. It’s your voice I want to hear, and your shoulder I want to lean on.” She squeezed his hand. “I love you for who you are, not for the letters after your name.”

Trace smiled slowly, with love shining in his eyes. “I love you, Margo.”

“I love you, too. We’re going to have to get to know whoever buys this house. It holds a precious memory. That’s good feng shui,” Margo said.

Trace laughed. “Do you like it?”

“The house? Yeah. It’s gorgeous.”

“It’s mine.” He smiled. “Ours.”

“What?”

“I bought it this afternoon. I hoped you’d share it with me.” He brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed it. “I figured we’d be here for a while, with me starting medical school, and you starting family medicine.” He grinned. “I got a family discount.”

Margo laughed, delighted, and reached across the table to kiss him. “There is one thing, though,” she said tongue-in-cheek, “that may be a deal breaker.”

Trace raised his eyebrows.

“What kind of car do you drive?”

Trace laughed and stood up. “Come with me.” He held out his hand, and she followed him past the kitchen and powder room, through the laundry room to a door. He opened the door and nodded for her to take a look.

Margo stuck her head into the garage and burst out laughing. “Of course.” She fell into his open arms. “I love you.”