The Wild Side of Spring by Verity Norton

Author:Verity Norton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Fiction Works
Published: 2015-03-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Trent looked over at her sitting beside him in his Jeep. She looked good there, as if she belonged. The upscale, uptight doc definitely had a down-to-earth side. Hell, she had a whole lot of sides.

There was sand in her hair. She needed a shower. Her eyes could barely stay open. She needed a nap more.

After stopping to pick up their two pints of ice cream, he purposely didn’t instigate a conversation the rest of the drive home. When he pulled into the assigned space beside her Prius and turned off the engine, he expected something. He didn’t get so much as a stirring or a whimper. She was sound asleep.

He hated to do it, but he scrounged through her purse until he found a set of keys. He opened his own door, went around to open hers, scooped her and her purse and the ice cream into his arms, and kicked the door shut behind him. He carried her the short distance to her front door, shoved the key into the lock, and opened it. Carrying her straight to the bed, he set her down, unzipped her jacket and pulled off her boots.Barely a sigh emanated from her throughout the entire process.

No one could say the doc didn’t do things full on. When she doctored, she did it with all she had. When she slept, she was dedicated to her sleep. And when she made love . Damn. The woman was something else. He went back into the living room, put the ice cream in the freezer, then closed the front door and locked it. Then he yanked off his own boots and hung his leather jacket alongside his backpack on the hat tree behind the door.

“Get used to it honey,” he murmured as he touched the pack. “If all I get is a week, I’m going to take every minute of it that I can. Even if it means watching you sleep.”

He headed back to the bedroom, found a lap blanket to cover her with, and spread out on what he now considered his side of her small bed. By then she was curled up and making soft purring sounds. He lay there and listened, letting the soothing sound caress him into his own sleep.

Some two hours later he awoke to a different sound. Running water. He looked down at her empty space on the bed, then glanced up at the clock on her nightstand. Almost two hours to the minute. No surprise. He had developed an internal clock at a young age. Right around the time when he was placed in the second foster home. He always managed to get up and out of the house just before his hung-over foster parents from hell dragged themselves out of bed to leave for work. He often wondered if they’d even noticed.

He was sitting up when she emerged from the bathroom in nothing but a set of lacy blue panties and bra. He was rewarded with the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen.

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