He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Well, that’s not going to win you a date.
He stepped in closer. “Maybe it’s your beautiful brown eyes, or the way you challenge my smart-ass comments. Maybe it’s the incredible sex. I don’t honestly know, but I’ve thought about you every second since we met, and let me tell you, Allyson. It’s hard as hell to be a good doctor when all my blood is residing below my waist.”
She couldn’t help the laugh and smile that brought. “Okay.”
“Okay?” His eyes widened with surprise.
“Did I stutter?”
He shook his head and smiled, as if they were discussing the weather. “If we weren’t in your workplace, I’d kiss that smirk right off your lips.”
Yes, please.
Chapter Six
HEATH RACED OVER to his mother’s house after work, stopping first to pick up a few groceries just in case she was running low. He hated rushing through a visit, but he wanted to get home and shower before meeting Ally. He pulled up in front of his childhood home and parked behind his brother Jackson’s motorcycle. He wondered why Jackson was there. Jackson and their youngest brother, Cooper, owned a prestigious photography studio and rarely had free time in the early evenings. He knocked twice before walking into the living room of the cozy two-story home, where he found Jackson and his mother sitting on the couch. Jackson’s black leather jacket lay on the couch beside him, and their mother’s knitting needles were on the coffee table. Jackson rose as Heath came into the room.
“It’s me, Mom. Hey, Jackson. How’s it going?” Heath said as he set the bag of groceries on the coffee table and leaned down to hug his mother.
“Hi, lovey.” His mother kissed his cheek. “What a nice surprise. Two of my boys here at once.” She sank back down to the couch and patted the arm of the recliner beside it. Heath swore his mother had every inch of her home memorized. She’d refused to move after the attack that had left her blind and their father dead, insisting that nothing would chase her away from the home where she’d raised her family—the only home that had memories of her deceased husband.
“Not much has changed since last night,” Jackson said. “I was doing a shoot around the corner and stopped by to see Mom. How about you?” Jackson was four years younger, an inch shorter, and had a penchant for the models and actresses he photographed.
“Good. Had a crazy day and I’m running late. Are you cooking dinner for Mom? I brought a few groceries, Ma. I’ll put them away in a sec.”
“I’m taking Mom out to dinner. Here, I’ll put the groceries away while you visit for a minute, if you have time.” Jackson grabbed the bags of groceries.
“You’re taking Mom out on your motorcycle?” Heath arched a brow.
“We’re walking around the corner to the café,” Jackson said as he went into the kitchen.
Heath sat beside his mother. She was smiling, and she followed his movements as if she could see him. She reached over and patted his leg, fishing for his hand, which he happily placed in hers.
“You’re running late? You don’t have to stay and visit, honey.” Mary Lou Wild was a kind and loving mother. She had shoulder-length dark hair, an olive complexion, and a smile always at the ready. After their father was killed, she’d fought her sons on their nightly check-ins, but she’d quickly realized that they were still as stubborn as they’d been as kids, and she’d given in to their need to watch over her.
“It’s okay. I’ve always got a minute or two to spare,” Heath said. “Did you have a nice day?”
“Oh, yes. Debra came by and we had a nice visit. Her son’s getting married in a few months, and she’s over the moon.” She patted her thick dark hair in a way Heath had seen her do a million times before, as if she were making sure it was still there. He imagined that even though his mother wasn’t overly conscious about her looks—Personalities reflect beauty, not hair and makeup, she’d always said—it was disconcerting not to be able to look in a mirror every now and again. “Where are you rushing off to?”
Heath debated making up an excuse, but he wasn’t a liar, and his mother had a way of seeing right through her sons’ lies.
“I have a date.”
“Oh. A date.” She smiled, and Heath shook his head. “Well, that’s different, isn’t it?”
“Very,” Heath answered.
“Well, then, she must be special. Maybe one day your great-grandmother’s ring will be put to good use.” She patted his hand and turned as Jackson came into the room.
The mention of his great-grandmother’s ring surprised him. His father had given the ring to his mother when he’d proposed. On their fifteenth anniversary, he had bought her a new ring, and he’d told Heath that one day he’d find the woman he wanted to marry, and that as the eldest, he could give her that ring. Heath had forgotten about the conversation until just now.