“Yes,” she called back. She took two waters and went back into the kitchen, closing the door after herself.
He was bent over, looking inside the small refrigerator. The Durango shirt was gone, replaced by a charcoal gray button-down.
“There’s nothing much in there.”
He shut the door and straightened. “I noticed.” He turned to face her and held out his hand for one of the vitamin waters. Along with the fresh shirt, he’d also brushed his hair and it no longer fell engagingly over his forehead. His eyes were hooded, and with that near beard, he almost looked like a stranger.
She chewed the inside of her cheek. There were things that she should say. But what?
“You need your own brewery,” she blurted, which wasn’t at all what she really wanted to say.
“Yeah, well, maybe one day I’ll have enough money to get one. It’s going to be an hour to Houston. Bathroom’s down the hall if you need it.”
“Thanks,” she muttered like the gargantuan coward that she was, and left the kitchen. She went through the doorway he’d used and found the bathroom on the right. Like the kitchen, it was tidy and clean.
She left it that way a minute later.
He was flipping through the mail that was collected on the small table next to the front door. “Ready?”
She shouldered the canvas tote in answer.
His expression seemed to tighten, though she had no idea why, and he ushered her out the front door again, locking it after them.
The big black truck parked at the curb was the destination and she climbed up inside when he opened the door for her. “Nice truck,” she murmured, even though she felt distinct regret as she watched the small silvery sedan through the side mirror.
His phone gave a little chime and he glanced at it when he stopped at the corner stop sign. He sighed slightly.
“Ashley?”
“Yeah.” He slid the phone into a slot on the fancy console between their seats. “She thinks she’s got the flu. I need to stop by the restaurant and take care of a few things that can’t wait. Won’t take me long.”
“Whatever you need to do.” She wasn’t in any position to dictate the schedule.
He turned at the stop sign and soon they’d left behind the neighborhood of bungalow homes just like his. He drove past a municipal complex. A post office. The buildings grew fancier. Newer. A spa. A Mexican restaurant where cars were overflowing the parking lot.
She suddenly clutched his arm. “Stop. Wait.”
He muttered an oath, obviously startled. “What?”
She was staring at the brick building across the street. “There. The pediatric center. I want to go in there.” Then she shook herself. “You can drop me off. Pick me up again when you’re finished at Provisions.”
He turned into the parking lot. But instead of dropping her off, he parked.
“You don’t have to go with me.”
“You think I’m going to leave you alone? Here?” He got out of the truck when she did, and together they went up the wide, shallow steps of the restored building. Adam pulled open the door for her and they went inside.
She looked around. Anxious. Eager.
For a medical clinic, it wasn’t the least bit clinic-y. Lots of exposed brick. Wood floors with a gleaming, warm patina. Two women wearing colorful scrubs stood behind a reception desk, and beyond them, Laurel could see a play area.
Adam’s fingers grazed her elbow. “Remember being here?”
Her shoulders fell. She’d so hoped. “N-not at all.”
She turned to head back to the entrance.
“Adam?”
They both stopped. A white-haired man with an equally white beard was hurrying around the reception desk. He had a broad smile on his face as he clapped Adam on the shoulder. “Haven’t had a chance to talk since you had the harvest. How are you?”
“Good.” Adam’s gaze slanted to Laurel. “This is Dr. Green.”
She managed a smile of sorts. “I recognized you from the news story.”
The doctor nearly did a double take. “My God,” he breathed, the twinkle in his eyes turning to shock. “You’re—”
“Laurel Hudson,” Adam provided, sounding much calmer than Laurel felt. “Linus’s mother.”
Chapter Fourteen
Laurel heard twin gasps coming from the women in the scrubs and suddenly wished that she hadn’t asked Adam to stop at the pediatric center at all.
Dr. Green recovered more quickly than anyone else. He clasped Laurel’s hand in both of his. “My dear. I am so happy to see you. The last time—well, it was quite a muddle, wasn’t it? The grand opening going on and you going into labor right there on the steps. And then—”
“Yes,” she said quickly, really and truly reluctant to hear his recap of her behavior after that. She couldn’t tell if he knew anything about her accident or her memory loss. And she didn’t want to know. It was bad enough to think how much gossip she must have caused by abandoning Linus right here, much less so soon after he’d been born. “It’s good to see you, too,” she lied, then tugged her hand away to tuck it through Adam’s arm.
As if he sensed her overwhelming discomfort, Adam closed his hand over hers. “We’re on our way to Houston.” His words were as smooth as the way he began moving toward the door. “Just wanted to stop in and say thanks for everything you’ve done for Linus.”
“Of course.” The doctor’s genial voice followed them. “Dr. Patel’s reports have been very promising.”
Laurel stopped. She looked around Adam’s broad shoulder. “They have? But Linus had a fever.”
Dr. Green’s eyes were kind as he approached her again. “Very promising,” he assured. “Despite a little fever.” He pulled a business card from the pocket of his white coat and slid it into her free hand. “If you ever feel like talking,” he said quietly. “About anything.”
Her vision blurred. How could anyone who knew what she’d done treat her with any kindness at all? She looked away. “Thank you.”
“Dr. Green,” one of the women called his name. “Becky’s ready for you with
