Page 390 of Steamy Ever After

When Uncle Pete and I go outside, all four tires of the Jeep are flat.

“That’s odd.” Uncle Pete walks around the car, looking at the tires. He gives them a kick, slowly—agonizingly slow—he bends down to inspect the rear left tire. “I don’t see any punctures.”

I crouch next to him and examine the tire. Unless it’s a massive rip in the rubber, I have no idea what to look for. Uncle Pete does. He checks the inflation valves on all the tires. He stands and glances up and down the street.

“It was probably some kids playing a prank,” he says.

“Why do you say that?”

He points to the tires like I know what he means.

“Someone let out the air.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Just kids pranking and having fun. We can take my car. I’ll text Henry Watkins and see if he can’t come by with his compressor and fix that for you.”

“That sounds great.”

Not wanting to waste any more time, we take his car. Seeing how unsteady he is on his feet, I offer to drive.

It’s a little past eleven by the time we make it to his office. This time, the people aren’t strangers. I recognize faces from earlier but lost all their names. Fortunately, Uncle Pete reintroduces me.

The office receptionist, Angie, greets me with bright eyes and a warm smile.

“So nice to see you again, Dr. Knight.”

“Oh please, call me Abby.”

Angie’s gaze shifts to my uncle and her brows wing up. He coughs beside me.

“While we like to keep things informal between the staff, at work, we’re more professional. It’s important for the patients to know you as Dr. Knight, rather than Abby. If the staff calls you by your first name, the patients will internalize that. It’s going to be really important to establish your reputation.”

“That’s Dr. Bateman’s way of saying not only are you pretty, but you’re young. A lot of our patients are older, and you know how that goes.”

“I suppose so. It didn’t really occur to me.”

“When we head out for a girl’s day on the town, first names work fine, but it’s easier for me to stick with Dr. Knight here. Don’t want to slip.”

“And that goes for the rest of the staff.” Uncle Pete emphasizes the point, making sure I understand.

“Gotcha.”

Uncle Pete guides me to his office in the back of the clinic. It’s a corner office with huge windows looking out onto a grassy lawn. Towering oak trees provide shade to clusters of benches that sit beneath them.

Next to his office is Sara’s office. Only slightly smaller than his, potted plants crowd the window ledge. More plants take over the tops of her filing cabinets and spill over the side tables, bracketing a well-worn, leather sofa.

Uncle Pete knocks on her door. A few years younger than my uncle, Sara’s long, salt and pepper hair hangs freely over her shoulders and down her back in springy curls. She looks up and pushes on the bridge of her glasses.

“Pete!” She stands and moves around her desk. “You made it.” Arms outstretched, she folds him into a gentle hug.

I get the gentle part. Uncle Pete’s losing weight at an alarming rate. He kisses her cheek then turns to me.

“Meet my niece, Abby Knight.”

Sara takes my hand in hers. Rather than shaking, she clasps both hands around mine and holds me with one of the brightest smiles I’ve ever seen.

“I’ve heard so much about you. Pete goes on and on. He’s very proud of you, and I know you’re going to fit in just fine.”

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