Page 30 of Coming Home

Duncan winced. “Ouch. I thought that my note was going to read smooth, not Joffrey Lannister-like.”

“I’ve never had someone ask me out with a card for the same night.”

“I do enjoy being your first.” He winked with playful wickedness.

Duncan assisted her into a small white speed boat trimmed in blue and settled her on the white bench at the back of the boat. Then, he sat in a small blue captain’s chair, turned over the engine, and launched them into the serene lake waters.

“Is this your boat or did you rent it?” she asked, raising her voice over the loud engine, whipping wind, and lapping water.

“It’s my dad’s. He got it when he retired last year.”

“Who’s running the farm?”

“My older brother Jacob. He and his wife live in my parents’ house. Mom and Dad have a cottage on the other side of the lake. They stay there in the summer and are in Florida with my uncle during the winter,” he explained, slowing the boat. “This will be perfect.”

“For what?” Her head twisted, surveying their surroundings.

The boat bobbed in the middle of the mostly empty lake. Streaks of pumpkin, crimson, and amethyst splashed across the sky in a brilliant sunset.

Duncan dropped the anchor. Reaching under the steering wheel, he pulled out a small blue cooler. “For this,” he said.

Placing the cooler in front of her, he lifted the lid and plucked out a chilled bottle of champagne, plastic wrapped cheeseboard, and two glasses.

“I thought we’d have a picnic at sunset.”

“This is pretty romantic.” She bit her lip.

A self-assured grin lit his features. “Exactly what I was going for.”

After arranging their little picnic on the top of the closed cooler, he popped the cork on the bubbly and poured two glasses. “Here’s to second chances.”

After a moment of hesitation, she lifted her glass to tap the rim against his. “Second chances,” she murmured. “How do your parents like retirement?”

“They love it. Between here and Florida, Dad fishes year-round and Mom loves not dealing with snow.” He grabbed a slice of salami from the cheeseboard. “How about your parents? With you being back, they must be thinking of retiring. They’ve run the clinic for forty years.”

Nat frowned, grabbing a piece of gouda and a cracker. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like they’re in any hurry to retire.”

“How is it working with them?”

“Fine.” The firm line that all too often rested on her face these days settled into its usual spot.

“Natalie, I don’t need to use my lawyer intuition to tell that you’ve just perjured yourself.”

“Don’t use your attorney voodoo on me,” she warned, pointing her cheese and cracker at him.

His eyes narrowed. “I’m serious, Natalie.” Clearing his throat, his tone softened. “How is it?”

She blew out a long breath. “In Boston, the attending physician accepted me as a colleague. Here…it’s hard.”

Since she was a little girl, she’d wanted to work with her dad, to be her dad. To be Dr. Owens, not just Dr. Owens’ daughter. The unspoken truth twisted in her abdomen.

Duncan’s lips pursed. “Sometimes, Natalie, we make it hard on ourselves and blame others.”

“What doesthatmean?”

“You have to demand respect, not ask politely or remain quiet and hope people figure it out.” He gestured to himself. “Look at me. When I clerked at the DA’s office in New York City, I was the kid. When I graduated, passed the bar, and went to work at that same DA’s office, they still called me ‘kid.’ They’d undermine me with comments. I had a mentor who told me what you permit, you promote. I realized I’d given them permission to treat me like a kid. So, I stopped acting like a kid. Spoke up. Dressed more professionally with tailored suits instead of mismatched sports jackets and slacks.”

Nat studied the plastic cup.

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