Dr. Adams caught him off guard again when he smiled a small smile and placed both cups on the rolling tray positioned by his bed. “I didn’t mean anything. You look like a guy that drinks his coffee black. Do you?”
“I do,” he admitted grudgingly as if that were a bad thing and he couldn’t quite figure out why.
“Then I was right. And besides, not one person in this hospital seems to use creamer. I’m a creamer kind of guy. I like my soy lattes. I miss my lattes,” he explained, walking around the bed to Landon’s other side.
Yep, that was exactly how Landon saw the man—a fancy latte coffee drinker. “It’s a ways for a Starbucks. I never thought anyone would be willing to pay five bucks for a cup of coffee.”
“You sound like my dad, but I’m pretty sure Starbucks is the investment I’ll be most proud of in twenty years.” Dr. Adams found the control that had somehow slipped underneath the torture device keeping his arm locked in place. “Let me lift you.”
With a strength that surprised Landon, the doctor lifted him from the back while working the bed’s remote buttons. He felt little to no pain as he rose to an almost sitting position. Dr. Adams expertly stuffed pillows under Landon’s arm, keeping it comfortably at the desired range he’d been instructed to stay within.
“You know what you’re doing,” Landon said, watching the doctor work.
“I’ve spent most of my adult life in medicine. I’ve learned a thing or two.” Dr. Adams gave a soft chuckle at what he must have considered a tease as he went for a chair in the corner and scraped it across the tiled floor, bringing it closer to Landon’s bed. “Last night, I got the impression you knew who I was.”
“I do. I recognized you.” Landon nodded his confirmation as Dr. Adams came back to his side, lifting Landon’s coffee cup to his lips. Landon sipped at the piping hot brew, loving everything about the scalding coffee. His sudden nervousness eased at the kind gesture of helping him drink. It was as thoughtful as he’d expected the man to be and a much-needed break in the monotony of his boredom.
“I think I can manage with this hand,” Landon said, wiggling the fingers of his good hand.
Dr. Adams looked at his uninjured hand and seemed surprised it was even there then chuckled again before handing him the Styrofoam cup. “I suspect you can.”
Landon had needed this whole exchange. He felt human again as an odd normalcy settled between them. Since Landon had read all three of Avery Adams’s autobiographies, he knew Robert Adams was a world-renowned heart surgeon, but in the brief few interactions they’d shared, Landon could attest to his genuinely kind manner. There was something very appealing and inspiring with the way Dr. Adams considered others, putting them first before himself.
Dr. Adams took his cup and settled in his seat, blowing to cool the hot coffee. “How did you end up here?” he asked, before taking a drink and screwing his face up in revulsion at the harsh bitter taste.
Landon smiled his first genuine grin since he had arrived.
“This is why I have to have creamer and lots of sweetener.”
“At least it’s hot,” Landon said, taking another drink.
“Completely agree. So, how’d you end up here?” Dr. Adams asked again, putting his cup on the tray as he sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. The move drew Landon’s attention to the nice sized bicep flexing with the doctor’s change of position.
“Me being an idiot,” Landon answered honestly and took another drink before returning the question, “What brings you to Germany?”
The casualness and ease that had developed between them surprisingly held against such an invasive inquiry. Dr. Adams gave a smile of his own, something that took his handsomeness to the next level. Landon grinned bolder as if he were commiserating over something he had no clue about. “I could say the same—me being an idiot.”
“Why’s that?” Landon asked instead of saying his first thought, which was how much he doubted the doctor could ever qualify as anything other than spectacular.
“I left everything I know to come halfway around the world based on a sign.” A full-on grin broke across Dr. Adams’s face, making Landon amend his original thought. This smile made the man gorgeous, and something about the response paired with all those handsome features kept Landon’s suddenly good mood intact. “Bet it makes you doubt my medical ability. I don’t blame you.”
Since that was literally the exact opposite of what Landon thought, he left that right there. He’d come back there in a minute. “What kind of sign are you following?”
Maybe the doctor hadn’t expected that kind of a question because the man’s grin faltered and his brow furrowed. Dr. Adams continued to hold Landon’s direct stare, looking speculatively as he reached for the Styrofoam cup again. Since the coffee was awful, Landon decided the move was for liquid courage. Dr. Adams’s took a longer drink this time, holding the cup in his hand as he again crossed his arm over his chest. He didn’t answer Landon’s question. Instead, he gave a total non-answer.
“That was a different response than I expected.”
“Why’s that?” Landon tried for casual as he took his own sip of the strong brew.
“I’m not sure why except I’m new to the idea of believing in signs. It’s been hard because my personality needs to see the proof of things. Were you able to read anymore?” he asked, nodding to the book on the tray, changing the subject—a subject he clearly was uncomfortable with.
Movement at his door caught Landon’s attention as Dr. Adams pushed
