have to be separated.” She glanced up long enough to see that Wags had returned, carrying something in his mouth.
When he growled as though he’d captured a pint-size prowler and was going to shake the life out of it, she took a closer look at what he’d locked his teeth onto.
Her shoe!
“Oh, no!” She dropped the phone on the counter and hurried toward Wags, who had chomped down on one of the brand-new black heels that she’d spent entirely too much money on.
But the moment Wags saw her coming, he dashed off, taking the shoe with him.
She’d probably never have reason to wear it again anyway, but that wasn’t the point. “Come back here with that! You’re going to ruin it.”
As Wags ran through the house, dodging her at every turn, she swore under her breath.
Now this was something she could blame on Mike.
Mike gripped the receiver and strained to hear what was going on at Simone’s house.
“Honey?” The endearment slipped out before he could catch himself, and when there was no response from her, he blew out a sigh of relief.
What in the hell was going on over there?
He could hear her yelling at Wags, who’d undoubtedly taken something of value.
“No, Wags. No!” she said. “Bad dog.”
He heard the approaching footsteps as she returned to the phone.
When she got back on the line, he asked, “What happened?”
“Wags chewed up my brand-new shoe.”
Uh-oh. The puppy was going to wear out his welcome, if he hadn’t done so already.
Maybe Mike had better find him a home with one of the guys in the department who had a family. He’d have to ask around.
“I’m really sorry about the shoe, Simone. I’ll buy you another pair.”
“You don’t have to do that. I probably wouldn’t have worn them again anyway. It’s just that…that…” She sniffled, then broke into tears.
Damn. Simone never cried. At least, not out loud or in front of anyone. He’d seen emotion well in her eyes, but she’d always managed to hold it back. So what was with the tears?
Maybe it was that time of the month.
Of course, it could be something else. A buildup of some kind of stress, and Wags had been the last straw.
Either way, Mike had dumped the puppy on her, and the timing had been bad. Talk about guilt trips.
“I’m really sorry for the trouble I put you through, Simone.”
“You’d better be sorry.” She sniffled again, the words practically drowning in her throat. “See what happens when I don’t get my rest? I fall apart.”
“Aw, don’t do that…”
As much as he dreaded the sound of her crying, a part of him liked to see the emotional side of her; it was so rare that anyone did.
Again she sniffled, and he wished he was there to put an arm around her, to let her lean on him.
“I can’t handle this two nights in a row, Mike.”
And he couldn’t handle her tears—at least, not at a distance.
“I’ll take care of everything,” he said, not sure that he could. “If you drive to the pet store and ask Millie to look after Wags, I’ll pick him up there when I get off duty. Then, if you don’t mind, I’ll sleep on your couch and take care of the dogs for you tonight. And when you get home from work, you can go into your bedroom, close the door and get a full night’s sleep.”
It was a last-ditch effort to pull things back together, and he really expected her to say no, to suggest he and Wags find somewhere else to hang their hats.
But she surprised him. “Okay. But if that doesn’t work, you’ll have to figure out something else.”
Nice save. “Okay. Will do.”
“I’ll leave a key under the potted plant on my porch.”
A grin tugged at his lips. He’d been hoping she would give him a key to her place, although he had to admit, these weren’t quite the circumstances he’d had in mind.
But hey. He wouldn’t complain.
A selfish side of him wanted to hold on to every little inch Simone gave him.
Later that afternoon, while seated at the desk at the nurses’ station and reading the doctor’s orders on one of the patient files, Simone yawned, wishing she could curl up in a corner and take another nap.
Bless Millie for keeping Wags earlier today.
Upon returning home from the pet store, Simone had slept for several hours, then showered and got ready for work.
So why was she still so tired?
The only explanation was pregnancy hormones, which meant she’d have to get used to feeling sluggish.
She glanced at the clock displayed on the wall that was directly across from the nurses’ desk: 8:34.
It had been fairly quiet this evening, just the typical Wednesday-night complaints. They’d treated a toddler with a case of croup, a woman with a sliced finger that required sutures and a teenager whose intestinal flu had left him dehydrated.
Currently, they were examining a child with a broken thumb, as well as a middle-aged woman who’d fallen off a scooter and presented with a nasty scrape on her knee and a sprained wrist.
Just steps away, Dr. Ella Wilder was making notes in the injured woman’s chart.
At twenty-nine, Ella was one of the youngest doctors on staff. She was also one of the most attractive.
Her hair, dark brown and straight, was cut in a neat bob that reminded Simone of the style worn by flappers in the Roaring Twenties. It suited her.
And so did her chosen profession.
Ella Wilder had come from a long line of doctors. Her father, Dr. James Wilder, had been chief of staff before his recent death. Her oldest brother, Peter, an internist, was the acting chief of staff until a replacement could be found. Another brother, David, a renowned plastic surgeon who’d been living in Los Angeles, had just relocated here in Walnut River, where he would open a practice.
Only Anna, Ella’s adopted older sister, had opted for a different career path.
From what Simone had gathered, the two sisters had been close growing up, but there was a strain between Anna and all of her siblings now.
Simone, an only child, didn’t understand family dynamics, nor did she try to. Suffice it to say, she found it best to keep her nose to herself and just do her job.
Still, Simone liked Ella, a young woman who’d recently completed her residency in orthopedics at Boston Mass and now worked at Walnut River General. Simone wouldn’t exactly say they were close, since she didn’t warm to many people, but there was something about Ella that Simone admired.
“Dr. Wilder,” Simone said to the orthopedist, “when you have a moment, Dr. Fitzgerald would like you to take a look at some X-rays. Jeffrey Colwell, the little red-haired boy in 4-A, broke his thumb and, apparently, knocked the growth plate out of whack.”
“All right. I’m almost finished here.”
Unable to help herself, Simone yawned again, and Ella chuckled.
Simone felt a little guilty. She prided herself on not missing work more than a handful of days in the last fifteen years, but maybe she should have called in sick today.
“I’m afraid