Wishes and Stitches (17 page)

Chapter Twenty-seven

E
lbert Romo stood on tiptoes at the desk, trying to peer over it. But he was so short, even with his bushy gray buzz cut standing at attention, and the desk was so tall that he looked like a child trying to peer into a high candy counter.

“There's no one out here! Where's Bruno?”

“He's on vacation,” said Naomi.

Elbert's bushy eyebrows jumped. “I didn't know he was going on vacation,” he said.

Neither did I.
“He had some things to take care of.”

“And we're here now,” said Rig. “What can we do for you?”

Elbert smiled widely at Rig and said, “Well, now. You're gonna love this, Doc.”

Again with the Doc thing. She'd never be called that, not with that level of affection. Naomi looked at the ground.

Elbert went on, “Every year we have a contra dance here in town. New England line dancing, only we do it here on the West Coast and have a live band, and the whole town comes, and it's just like old times, when I was a kid on the ranch. It's a week from Saturday. Dr. Fontaine, you've never been, have you?”

Naomi opened her mouth to speak, but Elbert went on without waiting for an answer. “It's a great time. Only this year, we're looking for donations from local businesspeople like yourself. We generally use the Eagles Hall, but because of the bathroom flood that Pete Wegman caused this week, they're still gonna be repairing the woodwork. We on the organizin' committee gotta find somewhere else to have it, fast, and we'll need money to rent the place. So I'm askin'—”

Naomi interrupted, her heart in her throat. “You can have it here.”

Elbert looked around the office and laughed. “I don't think you know how many people I'm talking, ma'am. I mean, Doctor.”

“In the health center.” A restless feeling of excitement filled her as she crossed the room to the connecting door. “In here. Look.”

Elbert and Rig followed her into the massive room. Both were quiet as she flipped on the lights.

Spinning to face Elbert, she said, “Here! Look at all this room! We can clear the tables and push them to the side, and you can put your refreshments on them, and you can have the raffle over there, by the desk, and the rest of the room for dancing with the caller and the band at the back!” Oh, yes. It really
could
work. It was completely unlike her to do this—something without planning, without knowing if it was
really
the right thing to do, but it felt good. Exciting. She wanted this.

Elbert gave her a look that was difficult to decipher until he spoke. Slowly, he said, “How did you know there was a raffle?”

Crap. She
had
been to the dance last year, when she first moved to town. It had sounded so wholesome, so very Cypress Hollow. Several times while they'd knitted together, Eliza had spoken of the annual town contra dance in a way that made Naomi ache with longing.

But going to the dance had been excruciating. She'd entered the Eagles Hall during a song, and everyone seemed to know just which way to turn. Even though the caller had been telling them what to do, Naomi didn't even understand the language he'd been using, “Alemán left and round you go.” The dancers whirled in long lines that twisted around each other more intricately than the yarn in her lace shawl did. At the end of the song, she'd wondered if she'd be invited to dance, but she'd hung back, too nervous to step forward. In what seemed like seconds, people had switched partners, men asking women to dance, the women nodding or laughing in acceptance, and they'd re-formed, dancing again, Naomi still alone in the darkest corner of the room.

She'd escaped before anyone had said even one word to her.

She said to Elbert, “Raffle? Oh, just a good guess. Everything this town does includes a raffle, am I right?”

He nodded, then looked around the room. “It's big, all right. And damned empty. What do you use this for again?”

“The free health center, where people can come for . . .” Her voice trailed off. “We don't use it for much, I guess.”

Maybe it was time she started to admit that.

Naomi took a deep breath and watched Rig reexamine the room. He tugged on his chin in a way that made Naomi forget momentarily about the center and wonder what he'd look like with a beard instead of that light layer of stubble.

Probably incredible. Probably even more rugged than he did now.

Damn. He'd said something while she was staring, and she'd missed it, too busy watching his mouth move to listen.

Elbert answered him, “Well, that's something I don't think anyone ever asked about. Dr. Fontaine?”

“I'm sorry,” she said. “What was that again?”

Rig smiled at her as if he knew what she'd been thinking. “I was just asking Elbert here that if you donate the use of what's technically your space, then would they also allow me to donate a little something.”

Elbert rubbed his hands together, his deeply lined face delighted.

“I'm pretty invested in getting a good reputation in town,” said Rig, “and while Naomi's been here awhile, I'm new. I'd be delighted to provide the drinks and snacks out of my own pocket.”

Elbert beamed. “I
knew
there was something I liked about you, Doc.”

“Great! We're doing the dance,” said Rig. He grinned at her conspiratorially.

Naomi smiled back as her stomach did a small flip.

Yes. They were.

Chapter Twenty-eight

R
ig and Naomi conferred with Elbert for another fifteen minutes, laying out plans. Rig kept getting distracted, however, by watching Naomi as she moved around the room. Excitement flooded her face, and he realized that this health center meant everything to her. He'd kind of guessed that already, but it was evident in her rosy red cheeks, the way she laughed out loud in delight when Elbert said that she could call the winning raffle number. She was finally getting to use the space for a real something, and Rig loved the sparkle in her eyes.

He heard the front-office bell chime and hurried through the center into the office. Naomi's sister, Anna, entered, her blue eyes wide as she scanned the room.

“Hi,” she said.

“Is everything okay?” asked Rig. “Your sister's in the other room.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Anna looked around and then said, “I just wanted to see her office. I've never been here before.”

“Good lord, girl, you're fit to pop,” said Elbert as he and Naomi came into reception. “You sure you should be standing?”

Anna smiled. “I'm fine. I've still got almost a month to go.”

“You sit there,” Elbert said. He pointed to the bench seat next to the window. “Shouldn't tire yourself.”

Some of the happiness left Naomi's face, and concern moved in. Rig fought an irrational urge to pull her into his arms until the crease on her brow disappeared.

“Are you all right? What's going on?” Naomi asked.

Anna frowned. “I was just bored at the house.”

Naomi started to say something, but Elbert interrupted.

“Bored! You're bored, and you have a person in there?” He pointed to Anna's belly. “My lord, child, you should sit around and do things with it. Play it classical music. Read it Dostoyevsky. There's so much to
do
! You're just gettin' started!”

“Do you have kids, Elbert?” asked Rig.

“Nah, I never had any. Never settled down with one woman, though I thought about doing it a few times. One almost got me once, but I paid the fine and got away. Got nieces and nephews, though, and that's better. Didn't have to pay for their college, did I?”

Rig nodded. “I have a five-year-old nephew. Milo. Best little boy in the world.”

“Good age,” said Elbert. “What about you, honey? Boy or a girl?”

Elbert's face softened when he looked at Anna. In the red, flowing blouse with the smocking around the neck and her white maternity skirt and red canvas shoes, she appeared to be glowing. She was the picture of health—an advertisement for motherhood. Naomi pulled her white coat closer around herself and clicked the pen in her pocket. Rig could almost hear her comparing herself to her sister. He wished she wouldn't. They were apples and oranges, these women. Did Naomi know that?

“A girl,” said Anna. “A very big girl. At least I think so, anyway. I haven't had them confirm it. I just know.”

“Well, that's all right then, isn't it?” Elbert grinned and Anna laughed back at him, but Rig couldn't tear his eyes away from Naomi. Her hair, piled up like that, how did it stay? The pale rose of her cheeks against the white coat, the slenderness of her waist compared to the lush curve at her breast that even the boxy coat couldn't hide . . .

What was
with
him? He felt like he was thirteen.

That was it. His hormones were driving the bus, that was all. This, too, would pass, right? It was a regular old crush. He'd had plenty of crushes in his life; they took a little while to get over, but then he'd feel fine. It would be funny to look back on it, the time that he and his partner had a brief flirtation.

Happened to everyone, right?

The thought made him feel lighter. Happy. Content to just watch her. No pressure.

Elbert clapped his hands. “Well, then!” He raised his hand. “Young lady, take care good care of yourself.”

Anna nodded. “I will.”

He let himself out, and Naomi turned back to Anna.

“Anna went job hunting again this morning,” Naomi said, not quite meeting Rig's eyes. “How did it go?”

Anna groaned again. “Awful. It was horrible.”

Naomi frowned. “Why?”

Anna pointed at her stomach. “Because people don't want
this
as a representative of their business. I was asked three times what my husband did for a living.”

Naomi displayed the surprise Rig felt. “They can't ask that! I think there are rules against it.”

“But they did. And I don't care—if I got a job somewhere, they'd learn the truth. I'm having a bastard. Single mom. All of that.”

Rig started poking around in Bruno's computer, trying to figure out how to tell who was coming in this afternoon. “Do people even use that word anymore?
Bastard?”

“The guy at the tire shop who was looking for a receptionist sure had the word in his mind. I could practically see it hanging there in neon.”

“Please,” said Naomi. “That's ridiculous. You're smart, and talented—”

“And in four weeks, if I make it that long, I'd need at least a month off. No one wants to train someone just to have them leave.” Anna looked at the blue carpet. “And who knows how long I'll be here, anyway?”

The sentence felt weighted, leaden, and it served to drain Naomi's face of the last remaining bit of light Rig had seen in the center.

“What if you work here?” asked Rig.

“What?” said Naomi and Anna in unison.

“Hey, we need someone. Bruno's out on unplanned vacation, and we have patients coming in”—he glanced at his watch—“ten minutes. Three of them, if I'm reading the computer correctly. I think he overbooked by one.”

Anna sat forward, hands clasped in front of her belly. “I'd love to work here.”

Naomi shook her head. “No. Bad idea. I'm sure there are plenty of other—”

“Jobs for pregnant whales?” Anna said. “There aren't. I hit every place that was in the paper today. They all looked at me like I was crazy.”

“She'd just be sitting here,” said Rig, “saying hello to patients when they come in. We can show her the basics, and then Bruno can clean it all up when he comes back next week.”

“And then what? You want her to work for just a week? That's less than she could do somewhere else . . .”

“I need help with my office. Someone to help me go through the files, figure out what I should keep and what I can toss of Pederson's. And we really need someone to work on the storage unit.”

Eagerly, Anna said, “I've done that kind of thing before. I assisted an archivist in Maine while I was there last summer.”

Naomi stared at Anna. “I didn't know you were in Maine.” She paused. Looked at her feet. Rig waited, hopeful. This could be good for the two of them. He crossed his fingers to match Anna's.

“I suppose it would be okay . . .”

“Yes!” said Rig. He held up his hand and Anna high-fived it. “You're hired! Now come back here, and I'll show you how to answer the phones and transfer them if the calls need to come to us. I know how to do that much. I'm not sure how the intercom system works, because Bruno always initiates it, but Naomi can show us both.”

Rig wasn't sure who looked more nervous, Anna or Naomi, but it was going to be okay. It'd be great. They'd see.

Chapter Twenty-nine

A
nna did well, surprising Naomi with her creativity when it came to figuring out Bruno's systems. Four hours later, by the end of the afternoon, she was actually filing. Naomi hadn't wanted her to, at first, sure her sister was putting the files in the wrong places, and that they'd never see the paperwork again. But when she watched over Anna's shoulder, she was getting all of it just right.

She was proud of her sister. Another good call on Rig's part.

Rig
.

Every time they'd passed each other in the narrow hall, he'd caught her eye and smiled. He held her gaze for a second too long each time, just long enough to make her feel breathless, then he'd walk past, opening the door to his next patient, greeting them with warmth and enthusiasm.

He was professional. He was good at his job, as good as she hoped she was.

And he was distracting the hell out of her.

And now it was almost closing time. She had no more appointments, and at this point, she didn't think they'd get any more walk-ins.

She heard voices from the front, and pushed open the door to find Rig's brother, Jake Keller, leaning on the counter, laughing down at Anna. He was in full fire-service uniform, all dark blue with white buttons, his boots as shiny as his badge.

He straightened when he saw her. “Hey, Naomi. I was just telling Anna here how sorry I was about barging in to use your bathroom a while back. Between my dad and Milo, we have to stop every fifteen minutes, I swear. Just stopping by to see my brother now. How's he fitting in around here?”

“Patients seem to like him.”

“They just think he's good looking. Runs in the family, you know. Not always that much going on upstairs, though.” Jake grinned.

“They're probably thinking about downstairs anyway,” Naomi said without thinking.

Jake snorted and Anna giggled while Naomi felt her cheeks burst into flame.

“I mean, you know, those jeans and all. I don't mean
I'm
noticing. Or if I was, it would be purely on the professional . . . shit.” She wasn't going to be able to recover—she was only making it worse. “I'll go get him for you.”

“I already paged him.” Anna tapped the intercom with authority, as if she'd been using it for years.

“Speak of the devil,” said Jake on a laugh.

As he entered the room, Rig's eyes met Naomi's again for a split second, and a look that felt like a shiver passed between them. She crossed her arms over her breasts as her nipples tightened. How did he
do
that?

“Hey, Jake. What's so funny?”

“Just your pants, man.”

Rig took it easily, saying only, “Doesn't mean much from a man dressed in wool.”

Naomi tried to lean on the counter casually, like Jake was doing, and almost lost her balance, ending up wheeling her arms and whacking her wrist on the wood.

“Naomi!” said her sister. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she said. “Of course I'm fine. Are there any more patients today, Anna?”

“Nope. You're done, and it looks like Rig is done with his last, right?”

“Mr. Swenson is buttoning himself up as we speak.”

Jake nodded. “Mr. Swenson. We've responded to his house a couple of times.” He gave his brother a look. “Is it for—?”

Rig pursed his mouth and didn't say anything.

“Ahhh. It is. He's a strange duck, isn't he?”

Laughing, Rig loosened his tie, working it back and forth. “God, I hate these things.” He stripped it off, undoing his top shirt button. “Better,” he said.

It
was
better. He looked more relaxed already. Actually, he'd just gone from looking like a cowboy at a wedding to someone about to rope a steer. Naomi wished she had an equivalent piece of clothing to loosen, one that would be like letting her hair down.

Well. She guessed she could just let her hair down.

Naomi tugged at the three bobby pins that had been holding her curls into a loose bun at the back of her neck, and then slipped the pins in her white coat pocket. She felt her hair tumble to her shoulders, and she tousled it with one hand, hoping it didn't look ridiculous after being up all day. Anna and Jake talked about the merits of a hamburger joint just up the coast. Jake said something about a case of shigella that had recently cropped up at a taco stand, and that no restaurant could be trusted. Anna said, “Where's your sense of adventure? You must have plenty of it inside that uniform somewhere.”

“Adventure's overrated. I like safe,” said Jake.

Naomi glanced at Rig.

Oh, he'd noticed her hair all right. He had both his hands in his pockets, and he leaned against the entryway wall, right next to the tasteful lamp she'd installed when she'd come to the practice. It cast a light glow in the room, very feng shui. But Rig didn't look subtle or tasteful or any other adjective that might describe a soothing reception area.

Rig burned. His eyes smoldered. Naomi swore she could feel his heat from six feet away. His body radiated a fine, hot control and his eyes raked her body, starting at her hair and going all the way down, pausing at her breasts and then again at her waist, and then back up. She sent the look back; she knew she did. Even though she didn't want to. She shouldn't, God knew she shouldn't.

Naomi couldn't breathe. Again. He was becoming hazardous to her health. At this rate, she'd need an albuterol inhaler by nightfall.

Anna laughed and Jake said something back to her. They both sounded as if their voices were underwater—her ears listened only for Rig.

For fuck's sake, she
had
to get over this. Get her life back. She couldn't work in a place that she feared would burn down just by the way they were looking at each other.

A thought crossed her mind as she dimly heard Jake bring up garlic fries.

What if she just slept with Rig again?

The idea shocked and soothed her at the same time. Rig was her coworker. Her new, ridiculously steamy coworker, but still her business associate. Naomi had always been very clear about keeping her personal life very separate from her work life
.

But her work life
was
her personal life now. There wasn't any real separation, so really, what could it hurt? They'd done it once before, and it had been . . . great. Yes, she could admit to herself it was the hottest sex since—well, maybe since ever. Unless she was remembering that night wrong, which she might be. And given the frequency with which she got laid, she really might be getting the facts mixed up.

Her last boyfriend was what, four years ago now? Franco had been a manager at the Italian restaurant she frequented, and the reason he'd become her boyfriend was because he didn't really care if she talked or not. They made love, ate, and slept. Lather, rinse, repeat. She'd been fond of him, but she wasn't in love with him, and the worst part of their breakup had been no more free puttanesca. As it were.

Rig contributed something to Jack and Anna's discussion and laughed. How was he keeping up with both conversations? He turned his eyes back on Naomi and her core overheated. She was going to be sending up smoke signals if this kept up.

One thing had always been sure, no matter how long the dry spells between taking men into her bed: she'd known what she was doing. Like all things, sex was better after she'd studied it. After an uncomfortable, unsatisfying experience at eighteen with a boy who was as inexperienced as she was, she'd taken out books from the college's library and deconstructed various sexual positions, reading about which was better for whom, and why. She'd rented porn movies and watched them, blushing the whole time, in order to learn what sounds women made and how men moved—she kept in mind that they were actors in a multibillion-dollar enterprise, and she never expected the pizza guy to deliver anything but pepperoni—but the movies still had things to teach her.

Sex was just bodies in motion, and Naomi understood how bodies worked. No big deal. Treating a patient, learning to achieve an orgasm: both were just getting parts to work right. So why wouldn't she be able to manage a second one-night stand with Rig if it meant she'd be able to file it safely away afterward under “Completed”?

Naomi studied Rig. Thank goodness he was looking at his brother and she got a few seconds to drag her gaze all over him.

Her eyes moved to the front of his jeans and she flushed with heat again. He was a big guy, she probably remembered that much correctly from their one night together. Mmmm.

Then Rig caught her. He caught her gaze red-handed as it traveled upward again, and his amused expression told her he knew exactly where she'd just been staring. Crap. She couldn't even take a deep breath to steady herself or he'd notice.

“You going with them, Naomi?” Rig asked.

“I'm sorry?”

“The Smokehouse,” said Jake. “Your sister has convinced me to try a burger that may or may not end up being heated to a safe temperature. I do have life insurance, after all. Rig can take Milo if I
die.
” He shot a pointed look at Anna, who laughed, a pretty pink color high on her cheeks. “I can't go to the one on the coast, since I'm on duty—have to stay near the firehouse. But the other one, on Fourth Street, we could all go there. They have thirty different flavors of milk shakes, I do know that.”

Naomi said, “No, thanks. Not hungry.” She was too wound up from thinking about Rig to think about food.

“Butterscotch,” said Anna with a grin. “I've always loved a butterscotch milk shake.”

He nodded. “They're hard to find. I happen to know the Smokehouse has great butterscotch shakes.”

“Oooh,” Anna purred.

Were they flirting? Naomi had been so firmly entrenched in her own plans that she'd failed to notice that Jake and Anna were grinning widely at each other. It looked like Jake was over Anna asking where Milo's mom was.

“What time do you get off?” Jake asked Anna.

Anna looked at Naomi questioningly. “I'm not sure . . . What else needs doing?”

“You can leave, that's fine.” What else was Naomi supposed to say? Be careful? Anna was already knocked up—how much more trouble could she get into?

Jake gestured at his uniform. “I might look a little official for a burger, but as long as I stay within running distance of the firehouse in case the siren goes off, I can go. Rig, you coming?”

Rig also declined. “Naomi and I have to go over plans for the contra dance. We're hosting.” He sounded proud, and Naomi's toes curled happily.

“Oh, great, you're doing that?” Jake looked pleased. “The whole department always goes and passes the boot for donations.”

Anna came around the desk slowly, a hand on the top of her stomach. “I'm ready, then.”

“Guess we'll catch you later,” said Jake.

“Hey, why
did
you come by?” said Rig as Jake held open the door for Anna. The noise of cars passing on Main Street poured in like water.

Jake leaned in and spoke so that Anna, already outside, couldn't hear. “Was going to ask you about Dad's medication. But then something more important came up. Catch you later.” The smile took over his whole face before he ducked out and the door shut. It was quiet again.

Naomi straightened the magazines on the low table, just to give herself something to do. Was she going to go through with this? Could she?
Should
she? The idea had taken root, and she couldn't think of anything else.

Yes. She would. Do it and get over it. Once and for all.

“So, great idea,” Rig said. He was too close, suddenly right behind her. She hadn't heard his footsteps moving across the carpet.

“What?” She pushed a curl out of her face.

“Hosting the dance.” He was just an inch too close.

Naomi stood straight and looked at him. Yep. He was with her on this one. She'd take the lead. That way, maybe she'd be able to keep it.

“We should talk about it some more.”

He smiled, easily. He had
no
idea how easy it was going to be. “Over dinner?”

“What about at your house? Can you cook for me there?”

Rig blinked. Yep. She knew he hadn't seen that coming.

“Sure,” he said. “I make a mean take-out pizza.”

Even better. She would get laid
and
get fed, because she hadn't been planning on letting him have too much time to cook.

“I'll be there in an hour,” she said.

“You eat meat?”

“Do I ever,” she said. Was that a blush creeping onto his face? Good. She would
not
go red. She would do this. God, her heart was beating triple time. Making the shift from office mate to object of desire was something people did all the time, right? No reason for these nerves.

“You're different,” he said. “What's changed in you?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Just looking forward to our . . . dinner.”