“Of course. You need to be kind to yourself. I still think you should call one of your sisters. I’m sure they’d be happy to come and help you out.” He opened his briefcase and took out a package.
“No. I’ll manage, thanks anyway.” She eyed the needle, her heart rate rising. “Where are you going to stick that?”
David smiled. “It’s an intramuscular injection. So that means the butt, the thigh, or the arm. Your choice.
“Oh, yay. How lucky am I?” She glanced at her leg, not liking that idea, thought about exposing her butt to the doctor and held out her arm instead. “Just do it quick, please.” April turned her face into the couch and closed her eyes as he administered the injection.
*
David disposed of the needle. “That’s going to ache but there’s no getting away from it, sadly.” He handed her a packet of tablets. “Take two now and two first thing in the morning. No more than six tablets in twenty-four hours.”
“Thanks.”
He pointed to the bag on the coffee table. “How about I heat this up for you and then let you get some rest?”
“Thank you.”
She rubbed her arm and he felt a twinge of concern. For someone so accident prone, he’d have thought she’d be used to pain by now. David took the microwave dish out and heated up the chicken casserole meal his mom had insisted on preparing for April. When the microwave pinged, he tipped everything onto a plate, found cutlery, and a dinner tray and carried it over to the couch.
“I’m lucky you’re so organized around the kitchen.” She sniffed her dinner as he settled it on her lap.
“I’ve done for myself for years. You can’t expect anyone to run after you when you keep crazy hours as an intern and vending machine food has never been my thing.”
“Don’t tell me you can cook?” She shoveled a bite of chicken into her mouth.
“I get by.” A spot of gravy on her lip caught his attention and he found himself staring at her mouth.
“This is good. Tell your mother a huge thanks from me.” April scooped up baby peas and popped them into her mouth. She looked up to find David staring at her. “What?” She touched her face, fingers flitting over her lips.
He pointed at the gravy in the corner of her mouth. “There.”
She flicked her tongue out and scored it. “Thanks. Can’t waste the best bits.”
Oh it wouldn’t have been wasted. Where on earth had that come from? David focused on the bright posters hanging in the room. She was a patient. An annoying neighbor. Leave it at that.
“Good, aren’t they?” April put down her fork and pointed to the poster that was predominantly blue and gold. “That’s my favorite one.”
“They’re rather bold, aren’t they?” How Susan’s father made any money from painting skulls amazed him. Not his taste at all but obviously someone’s style by the amount of art he sold.
“They are and I love it. You’d expect to see pale colors on something dead like that but the way he paints them – it almost gives them a second chance at life. At least that’s what I think.”
Still weird no matter what anyone said. “Right. If there’s nothing more I can do for you, I’d best be off. Oscar will never forgive me.”
“Thank you for coming back to see me. And thanks for that nasty needle, too. I know it was a wise move even if I hate them.”
He stood up. “I’m afraid so. Remember to take it easy and if you need us, please call. Karen will pop in tomorrow and check on you.” He picked up his briefcase. “Don’t overdo it, April.”
“Yes, David.” She held out her hand and he took it. Gave her fingers a quick squeeze and left while he could. The heat that passed from her skin to his wasn’t something he was expecting. She wasn’t his type and there was no way he was looking for romance.
Chapter Nine
The new shop exceeded April’s expectations. Her new flower supplier had outdone himself and delivered her a truck full of blooms that took her breath away. Tubs of baby pink roses sat on the path by the front step along with a child’s vintage rocking horse, enticing shoppers to come inside and explore her eclectic range of giftware. Just inside the door on an old scarred oak dining table David had insisted on helping her move, she’d arranged a collection of vintage crystal and china, silver cutlery, and delicate lace edged napkins. Tiny milk jugs filled with button daisies in white and pink and a pretty collection of fine china plates along with vintage glasses made it look as though someone was going to sit down for a high tea. Paper peony roses spilled over a large serving bowl, scattering on the linen table cloth as if someone had been disturbed while making a posy.
The heavy oak carved bookcase held a collection of old books and a faded tapestry chair with a side table was positioned in front of it, a soft throw rug in a faded pink draped casually over the back just as she’d envisaged it. A patchwork cushion’s added to the comfortable shabby chic style and her Tiffany leadlight lamp threw a rainbow of color over the worn floorboards.
Big buckets of fresh roses sat to one side of her desk, a large glass-topped cabinet she’d found online and repurposed for that very reason. The delivery man had struggled with getting it into the shop until a couple of local guys who had seen her standing on the pavement trying to figure out how to get it through the door offered their services. Under the glass in the small separated sections, April had added
