“Great idea,” Evie said. “I’d love to meet with her and discuss post-op therapy, too, no matter who does the surgery.”
“Why don’t you two discuss your options while I check on our patient and get you on Christine’s schedule?”
When he left and closed the door, Declan turned to her. “I want you to do the surgery, Evie, here or wherever.”
“And I want to do it. This is not an easy surgery, but I respect that they have to follow protocol.”
“Should we take him to Raleigh and do the surgery at your hospital?”
She gave a wry laugh. “I can’t do surgery there, either.”
“You can’t?”
“I’m on sabbatical, remember? But Dr. Rafferty will get me clearance. He just has to jump through a few hoops.”
“Don’t forget we have twenty-four/seven access to Waterford Farm and two of the best vets in the state in my uncle and cousin.”
“I’d love to have Molly as my backup in the OR.” She nodded, thinking, then lifted a brow in question. “Even if I do the surgery, the whole thing is going to be pricey. You know that, right?”
He shrugged. “I can cover the expenses. Judah’s my responsibility now.”
“That’s very kind. I’m sure this is why his owner abandoned him,” she said, closing her eyes and shaking her head, always empathetic to an animal’s plight.
“No doubt,” he agreed. “Medical costs are probably the number one reason people surrender animals.”
She leaned in. “But then, thank God, someone like you, with a heart of gold, pays for their medical treatments.”
“You think I have a heart of gold?”
“Yes.” She answered without a second’s hesitation, which did something stupid to his insides. Or maybe that was being less than two feet from Evie, making plans, solving problems, and talking like they used to.
“We’ve always been a good team, E.”
“Do you want to be in the OR, too?” she asked with a smile.
“I’m saying that…the thing your grandfather mentioned, about the ba—”
She put her hand over his mouth. “Don’t.”
“I want to know if you—”
“It’s off the table,” she said simply. “In fact, there isn’t a table. Discussion closed.”
But he had to ask. He had to know. “You don’t want a baby, Evie? You don’t want a child of your own?”
She searched his face for a long time, silent, no doubt formulating an answer that could formally end the conversation.
“That’s just it,” she finally whispered. “It wouldn’t be my own.”
Of course. She was right. It would be his, too. And that was obviously a problem for her.
Who could blame her after how he’d shut her out all those years? He deserved this. And didn’t deserve her.
The door opened, and Judah came galumphing in with Dr. Rafferty, reminding Declan that he already sort of had a kid now—a four-legged one. And that might have to be enough.
* * *
Granddaddy was asleep when Evie went up to get his tray and check on Judah, who was curled up and comfy in his bed, snoozing as deeply as the other guy in the room. So she took the tray downstairs, knowing the conversation she wanted to have with her grandfather would have to wait until tomorrow.
She’d had a chance earlier, but the truth was, since she’d been home from Vestal Valley College, she hadn’t had the heart—or nerve—to ask Granddaddy about…
Declan’s baby.
Why would Granddaddy suggest something like that? And why couldn’t she stop obsessing about it? She’d done such a good job of putting the baby dream in a compartment she rarely opened, and now, there it was, calling her and demanding she…imagine.
No, she wouldn’t go there.
Instead, she hummed to herself while she put dishes in the dishwasher and wiped off the tray, then checked the time and realized she hadn’t made herself dinner yet. As she was walking to the fridge to see what she could scare up, she heard a soft tap at the front door, and her heart did a little jump.
Declan?
She tamped down the little jolt of excitement, heading to the front hall to see the silhouette of a person who was definitely a man, but that wasn’t Declan’s tall, commanding physique.
“Can I help you?” she called through the leaded glass.
“I’m looking for the owner of this house,” a man said. “My name is James Bell. I’ve left a few messages with Mr. Hewitt, but I understand he’s not feeling well.”
Bitter Bark wasn’t exactly a hotbed of crime, but she wasn’t about to open the door to a stranger. Plus, it was too late for company even if Granddaddy did know the man.
“Can you leave your number and what you need? I can speak to him tomorrow and see if he can contact you.”
“Sure. I’ll leave my card. I’m interested in buying this house.”
She inched back, eyes wide. “Really?”
“If you’re not selling, ma’am, I understand. But I’ve been in love with this house for years. I don’t want to miss the opportunity to make an offer on it, should you be accepting them.”
Curiosity got the better of her, making her open the door, but she left the chain on. “It’s not on the market,” she said.
A man in his mid-forties, with reddish hair, wire frames, and a narrow build, stood a few feet away, wearing a button-down shirt and crisp khaki pants, writing something on a card.
“I’m giving you my office and cell numbers on here.” He smiled at her and pushed back his glasses with his wrist, where lines of black ink peeked out from his cuff. Surprising for a guy who looked like an accountant. “I really hate to be this bold, walking up to the door and ringing the bell like a loon, but…God, I want this house.”
A thread of something curled through her, a feeling she couldn’t quite describe. Not jealousy, exactly. Not pride. Not resentment. But a bit of all three. “It’s a wonderful house,” she agreed. And whoever got to live in it would be very lucky.
He lowered the card
