Dr Tall, Dark...and Dangerous?. Lynne Marshall

Yeah, Vincent would be there for her.

      She’d never known her father, and didn’t seem to be close to her mother. At least that was what he’d gathered from their conversation tonight. She needed a friend, that’s all. Was that so much to ask? Yes, as a matter of fact, it was. Relationships of any kind were definitely out for him at this stage as he was still smarting from the divorce. He glanced at her again and felt a firm yank on his heart. Aw, hell, maybe he should make the effort to be a friend before he forgot how it felt. Could he even do “friend” any more?

      Did he really want to be a friend? Being a friend meant having a friend. So far, other than medical professionals, he didn’t have a single friend in Boston, and it had suited him just fine. Except for when he wanted to go to a Sox game and didn’t have anyone to go with, or when he didn’t feel like eating alone. Again.

      Train fumes invaded his nostrils, a street musician played classical guitar in the corner. A thick crowd of people pushed toward the automatic doors on the train as they opened. He strode in front of her and helped her on board, guiding her at the small of her back. He thought he saw a flicker of surprise in her glance as she boarded. Her eyes were soft and green, and, as hard as he tried not to, he liked them.

      Once the doors closed, and they’d both grabbed a pole to hang onto, she looked at him. “What a coincidence, seeing you at the pub tonight.”

      Should he tell her he couldn’t stand the thought of going home to his empty apartment to eat alone on a Friday night? “I heard they had great pastrami sandwiches and I wanted to watch the Sox game because they played the Los Angeles Angels.”

      She nodded. Maybe she believed him, maybe not. “I love their deli food, too. Do you go there often?”

      “Once in a while.” Hey, she’d been brutally honest with him, the least he could do was be honest back. With a look of chagrin, he started. “Truth is I hit that pub every other Friday night, same routine. Pastrami. Beer. Ball game. The other weekends I have visitation rights with my kids. Then I head out to the school and stay overnight at a motel so I’ll be there bright and early to take my kids for breakfast on Saturday morning.”