Page 10 of Faking It with the Off-Limits Doctor

She smirks back at me and then turns back to struggling with her jar. “He has to be the guy who owns that big fancy car I saw driving down the road earlier then.”

“Probably,” I say. Though all his money can’t get him to smile. “His name is Alex Bennett.”

“Have you mentioned him to me before?” Astrid frowns, clearly not recognizing the name.

“I can’t imagine I have. I don’t really know him like Mark does.”

“Wow. I can hardly believe it. We have a billionaire living in Riverdale.” Lifting her nose in the air and pretending to look offended, she says, “Clearly, I will no longer be the talk of the town. Mr. Alex Bennett has stolen that trophy from me.”

I laugh and say, “Dr. Alex Bennett.”

“Oh, I do beg your pardon,” she mocks, pouring the hot water into the same cup she’s sprinkled the powder into. Taking a spoon, she gives it a good stir and then hands it to me.

“Now, sip that carefully. It’s hot, but it’ll put a spring back in your step.”

“What is it?”

“Best not to ask, my darling. The ingredients might scare you to death,” Astrid says with a wink.

I giggle at her again, and then tentatively sip my tea.

“And your other news?” she says, after sitting back down opposite me.

“Funnily enough, it has to do with our new billionaire. He’s having a dinner party next week and wants me to cook for his guests.”

Astrid gives me a long look. “And how do you feel about that?”

“It will give me a chance to do something I’ve missed for the last six months.” I reply. “Alex isn’t a greasy spoon kind of guy, so—”

“Alex?” She smiles and lifts an eyebrow.

“It’s not like that,” I say, shaking my head. “Not with this guy, at any rate. He has the charm of an old shoe. I think it causes him physical pain to smile.”

Astrid nods with satisfaction. “I’ve changed my mind. I think I like him already.”

“It’s only a one-time deal, but he knows who I worked for in the city, so he’s already told me he’ll pay me well. It gets me closer to my goal.” I shrug, taking another sip of my tea.

“Your own place,” Astrid confirms.

“My own place,” I repeat.

“Where there’ll be a small area for your closest friend to set up a stall and sell her weird and wonderful concoctions.”

We both fall into laughter then, knowing rightly there’s not a chance of that ever happening.

5

Alex

I’ve been in this house for five days and now all the work has been completed. The kitchen is transformed with brand new, state-of-the-art appliances. There are new wooden floors in all the rooms, to keep with the style of the house, and the walls have had several coats of fresh paint.

Well, not all the walls and floors. Given that I won’t be giving anyone a tour of the house, the upstairs remains untouched. Partly because to do the entire house would take too much time. I can’t be here for such long periods, and I’ve already had to reschedule some of my surgeries so I’m here when the contractors arrive.

Then there’s been the delivery of the furniture. Even if I decided to leave the contractors to get on with their work, which I was not entirely comfortable with, I still needed to be here when my new bed, dining table and chairs, desk, and all other furnishings arrived.

And so, my new house now looks like it’s split into two eras. While the downstairs looks like I live in the twenty-first century, the upstairs still looks like I’ve walked into 1872.

The only thing I’ve kept is the rocking chair on the porch. I’ll be honest, I didn’t think it was my thing, but having spent the last four nights sitting out there in the peace and quiet, I’ve decided to keep it. All I need now is a banjo and a straw hat.

---