He laughs, and it’s a decent laugh. “Yeah. Uhh, Grant Bowie is staring at the door. And I can see your mom… waving. Yep.”
“Mmm. You have a fan.”
He busts out a brilliant smile that’s probably been making parents swoon since high school. And then, even though we obviously have an audience and it might scare most guys off, he bites his lip and leans in. “So what do you think? Can I get your number?”
5
Bowie
The balls on this guy just showing up out of nowhere.
April hauls me inside, but Boomer sure as shit isn’t in a position to keep an eye on things with his sister, so I watch from the window, not bothering to be discreet. Doctor or not, better this guy understands someone’s paying attention.
He was hoping to see her again? Yeah, I bet he was.
I watch as the phones come out. He takes hers. Probably sending himself a text.
Yup. He holds up the phone with a nod.
Congrats, man. Medical school teach you that?
Whatever. This tool isn’t Piper’s type. And the look on her face when he got out of the car? That startled, slightly confused laugh confirmed this isn’t the asshole she was out with until two in the morning last night.
It also tells me whoever she was out with isn’t serious or she wouldn’t be standing in her parents’ driveway handing her number out to random passersby.
April swings by again, using both hands to shoo me away from the door. “Give them some privacy, Grant.” She tsks, turning to stare herself. “He seems nice.”
Mmmph. “Seems like a stalker.”
One neatly manicured finger taps her lips. “I think I met his mother at a neighbor’s party last month.”
“It’s winter,” I grumble. “What’s he doing keeping her out there without a coat?”
I should have grabbed it for her off the back seat, but we were just coming inside. Now a shitty part of me is glad to have it as an excuse to wrap this up.
April’s breath catches, but not with the indignation I’d appreciate. With glee.
“You’re right!” She pulls the door open, and with the kind of effective bossiness only mothers can swing, calls out to them. “Okay, you two. Someone’s going to catch a cold in this weather. Craig, why don’t you come in and say hello to Ben so he can thank you.”
Piper’s shoulders tense and her head cranks around to gape at her mother. It’s perfect. Right up until she turns back to him, says something I can’t make out, and then the both of them shrug with matching smiles and start for the house.
“Not necessary, Mrs. Boerboom. But I’d love to say hi.”
“Oh, call me April.” Her welcoming smile doesn’t quit as she leads him toward the rec room in the back. Piper and I follow until he says he’ll take a look at the incision. We cut into the kitchen so the good doctor can spend a few minutes up close and personal with Boomer’s junk.
“Hockey fan?” I ask, following Piper into the kitchen to give them some privacy.
She slides onto a stool. “He called you Grant Bowie, so my guess is yes. And don’t bother telling me to be careful about guys looking to score tickets.”
I lean against the sink, checking my own phone while I work to ignore Piper watching me over the top of hers. Finally, I crack.
“What?”
She pulls her hair over one shoulder. “What’s your beef with the doctor?”
“No beef.” I don’t even know what app I’m looking at, but I’m completely engrossed.
A few seconds pass. “You looked like you wanted to take his head off.”
Possibly. “Why would I do that?”
“You tell me.” It’s the challenge in her voice that, despite my best efforts, has me meeting her eyes.
Mistake.
I don’t want to be staring into those baby blues. I don’t want her staring back, probing around for answers I don’t have. I don’t want to give this too-compelling girl an inch of insight. Because an inch is all it would take for her to pry her way deep and deeper until she gets enough of a hold to start tearing shit down.
So why, for the love of God, am I still staring?
“Guys, want to come on back?” April calls. “We’re in the TV room.”
Piper hops off her stool without another glance, and I follow her to the back of the house, trying not to watch the swing of her hips, trying to shake the ever-present irritation she stirs in me. Trying not to think about the damned doctor taking her out.
He’s not some deadbeat hipster with less direction than she has. He’s a fucking doctor. The Boerbooms are already looking at him with stars in their eyes, and that’s—
That’s as far as that thought goes, because I nearly knock Piper over when she stops in front of me. I look past her shoulder to where Boomer’s parked on a recliner that wasn’t here a month ago.
He looks worse than when he left the hospital, and I don’t know why I do it, but my hand goes to Piper’s shoulder. It’s only there for a beat. Just long enough for me to quietly tell her and her alone, “He’s going to be okay.”
Long enough to feel the slightest sway of her body toward mine. And the almost primal pull within me to close the distance even more.
Slowly, Piper turns, her eyes coming up to meet mine, connecting us in that moment in a way I haven’t felt in years.
Dangerous.
Clearing my throat, I step around her, nodding once to the doctor I’m suddenly more than a little grateful to for offering to “take a peek” at the incision site. Then it’s game-face time. Boomer doesn’t need me looking at him like I’m freaking the fuck out.
He needs his buddy.
So I pack that fearful uncertainty down and reach out for our typical hand-slap followed by knuckles. “Nice chair, man.”
He grins weakly, and lifting the padding from the arm, he digs out a remote. With a press of one button, he ends up totally horizontal before cycling back. “Check out what this bad boy can do.”
Piper brushes past me to kiss her brother’s cheek. When she steps back, there’s no trace of whatever vulnerability I saw the minute before. She’s being strong for him.
Hell, she’s just strong. Always has been.
Her brow lifts. “Yeah, check it out, D-Man. Hop on. Ben wants to give you a ride.”
Pure Piper.
Piper
This trip isn’t what either of us were expecting. Not just because of Craig, though Ben’s surgeon pulling up in his flashy Mercedes to get my number wasn’t the worst moment of my life. Especially considering the way Bowie reacted to it.
But seeing my brother like that was… rough.
Ben’s always been larger than life. Stronger than anyone, except maybe Bowie. He’s been the toughest, most hardheaded, over-the-top guy in my life for as far back as I can remember. And to have him weakened to where he can barely get up on his own?
It freaked me out to the point of freezing in place. But then Bowie was there, and with that one reassuring touch, those quiet words, it was like something inside me calmed. Steadied.
Bowie said he was going to be okay, and for whatever reason, I believed him.