Sweet Home Colorado. C.C. Coburn

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      Chapter Three

      “Boss!”

      They jumped apart at Al’s shout.

      “I’m done with the estimate for the outside. I’ll leave the rest to you, okay?” he said. “Maria’s giving me hell about getting home for dinner with the kids tonight.”

      “Sure, sure,” Jack said. “Stop by Mrs. Carmichael’s and pick up a big bunch of flowers for that wonderful wife of yours.” Jack drew his cell out of his pocket. “I’ll call Mrs. C. She’ll be waiting outside her shop.”

      Al’s face broke into a wide smile. “I knew there was a reason I worked for a slave driver like you!” He saluted Grace. “Bye, ma’am.” A moment later he disappeared through the front door.

      Grace listened while Jack called the florist. He seemed to be close to her since he could order flowers over the phone without credit card details. And have the woman waiting outside her shop to hand Al a bouquet as he drove by!

      Jack hung up and said, “Now, how are you going to cure me of this itching? And please don’t say it’s bedbugs!”

      * * *

      GRACE LAUGHED. JACK LOVED the sound of it, deep-throated and sexy as hell. He’d been a hormonal teen when he’d first laid eyes on Grace in his English class fifteen years ago. He fell for her hard. After they started dating, he’d assumed they’d eventually marry, stay in Spruce Lake, have kids. He made a face at the memory of his teenage delusion.

      Turned out she’d had other plans, ones that didn’t include him in her future.

      During his time in the seminary, he’d worked hard to suppress his memories of her, his desire to hold her and make love to her again.

      Grace touched his arm and he reveled in the warmth and silkiness of her fingertips on his skin.

      “If I suspected you were suffering from bedbugs, trust me, I’d have hightailed it back to Boston.”

      He tried to smile, but the thought that Grace might leave again filled him with dread.

      “You have eczema.” Her voice became serious as she examined the angry red rash. Her hands felt warm on him. Too warm. Too good. “It’s not contagious and it’s easily curable. Do you suffer from allergies?”

      “None that I know of. Why?”

      “Because it’s often due to an allergic reaction, either to grasses or something you’ve been eating. Stress can set it off, too. Does asthma run in the family?”

      “Mom has it, but nothing severe.”

      “Uh-huh. Do you drink acidic juices, like orange, pineapple, stuff like that?”

      “Not usually, but lately I’ve been swigging OJ as a pick-me-up.”

      She nodded. “That’s about the worst thing you can do. I’ll make a list of foods to avoid and write you a prescription for a medicated cream. That should take care of it.”

      “How can a Massachusetts doctor write me a prescription?”

      “I took the precaution of getting licensed to practice in Colorado a couple of years ago, in case Aunt Missy was ever moves to a care home in Denver and needed me around for a while.”

      He considered this, then said, “Doc Jenkins has given me creams before.”

      “Probably not the right ones. Has he ever talked to you about your diet?”

      Jack shook his head, tongue-tied because Grace was absentmindedly stroking the inside of his arm. Didn’t she know what it was doing to him?

      “Doesn’t sound like much of a doctor to me.”

      “You got that right. He should’ve retired years ago, but he’s the only family doc in town, so we’re stuck with him.”

      “You mean to tell me, after all the years I’ve been away, there’s still only one doctor in Spruce Lake?”

      Not wanting to imply that the town only attracted worn-out old coots like Doc Jenkins, he said, “There’s a couple of orthopedic guys who come for the winter. They do very well out of all the skiers and snowboarders who break their bones.”

      “And if a woman would prefer to see a female doctor?”

      “Then she has to go to Silver Springs.”

      “Which, in spite of its proximity to Spruce Lake, is an inconvenience.”

      “You could always set up practice here,” Jack suggested.

      “I’m a pediatrician,” she said. “Not an OB/GYN.” Grace wandered into the kitchen and turned back to him. “If you want to do your estimate, I can swing by the pharmacy and get your cream.”

      “Sounds good. But first you’d better tell me what you want done with the place.”

      “We’ll get to that in a moment, but since you’re insisting I stay in town, I’d like to live here while you do the renovations.”

      “Hoo, boy.”

      “You seem to think that’s a bad idea.”

      “Do you realize how much dust’ll be involved?”

      “No.”

      “That was a rhetorical question. Trust me, you’d be better off renting somewhere during the reno.”

      “Since I won’t be earning an income while the renovations are going on, I don’t want to waste money on rent.”

      “Yet you were about to embark on an expensive trip through Europe for a couple of months?”

      “I seem to remember foolishly offering to pay you double your estimate to get the work done,” she said with a shrug.

      Jack grinned. “Yeah, there is that.”

      Grace flashed him one of her brilliant smiles and he said, “I wasn’t going to take you up on that, so go find somewhere else to live. People post ads at the supermarket all the time.”

      “Great idea.”

      “So how is it you came to inherit the house and not your father?” he ventured.

      “I didn’t inherit it—I bought it from Aunt Missy years ago. You might remember we lived here rent-free in exchange for my dad taking care of the place.” She grimaced and Jack understood what Grace meant by it. The house could’ve been better looked after. Things had come to a head—there’d been accusations of money going missing and Grace’s parents had moved on. Grace had stayed to finish high school.

      “I was the only person in the family who kept in touch with her. A couple СКАЧАТЬ