Page 74 of Rescuing Dr. Marian
But when I opened the door to the cabin and heard Chickie’s pitiful whine of disappointment, something felt different. Not just Tommy’s absence—I’d been expecting that. It was the way his things were still here, scattered around like he belonged. His book on the nightstand. His jacket on the chair. The lingering scent of that damn shampoo.
For the first time since Hawaii, I let myself imagine what it would feel like if he never came back. If Stanford offered himeverything he’d ever dreamed of and he took it. If he left me behind.
The thought hit me like a physical blow. To never share a room with him again, a shower. A bed.
To never sit next to him and share a laugh over a training exercise gone wrong, or strategize a rescue drill, or have him remind me to give a student a fair shake because people could change.
To never run my tongue along the ticklish spot below his ribs and hear the intake of breath half a beat before his soft snort of laughter.
“Fuck,” I whispered to the empty room. Suddenly, it was clear to me that if he came back to me, even if only for a few more weeks, I’d take every ounce of him I could.
If he’d give me another chance, I’d grab any opportunity to have a summer fling with Tommy Marian, even knowing it would leave mangled wreckage behind after he was gone.
Better to taste heaven for a few weeks than spend the rest of my life wondering what loving Tommy Marian felt like.
18
TOMMY
My hands shookas I opened the door to Cabin 8. It had been a long two days, and I was dead on my feet. My uncle Jude had insisted on sending me to San Jose in his plane, which meant I’d managed to catch a little bit of sleep on the way there and on the way back.
By the time I’d reached Hazel and Avery’s place a couple of hours ago, I’d nearly burst into tears. Hazel was awake and cranky, complaining about all the fuss the family was making over her recovery. Thankfully, she’d allowed me a few minutes to talk about the details of her medical situation and assure me she was following her discharge instructions.
Unthankfully, my mother had taken one look at me and insisted I either crawl into the nearest guest bed or make my way back to SERA in their rental car asap to get some real sleep. While I knew she was right, I bristled at being babied while Iwas trying to assert my authority as a physician with real concerns over Hazel’s recovery.
But now that I was here, only moments away from seeing Foster, suddenly, Ididwant to be babied. I wanted someone—okay, fine, a specific someone—to take care of me. And if he wanted to brush my teeth and tuck me into bed, all the better.
As soon as the door opened, Chickie barreled into my legs, knocking me back until I nearly tripped down the single step to the dirt path beyond.
“Chickie, fuck!” Foster barked.
I gripped the doorknob for balance as several things hit me at once. First, the sheer comfort and familiarity of this man’s voice.
Second, the joy of causing someone mind-blowing happiness just by arriving—even if that someone was a canine.
And third, the utter relief of Foster stepping toward me, yanking me into his arms, and crushing his lips to mine in a blinding kiss.
I let out a breath of surprise through my nose and then lurched even closer to him, throwing my arms around his neck and sinking my fingers into his hair.
Thank fucking god.
This welcome was ten thousand times better than I’d expected and even more than I’d hoped. I’d worried he wanted to dial things back, put distance between us to keep us from getting too close. But this? This was the exact opposite of distance.
“Missed you,” he said, moving his lips down my jaw andsucking a spot on my neck. I closed my eyes and relished the attention, even though Chickie was doing her best to get my attention.
“You have no idea how happy I am to be back,” I confessed before dropping a kiss into his dark, wind-tossed hair.
He smelled like pine and mountain sunshine, masculine sweat, and faint hints of coffee. For some reason, the combination smelled like the best place on Earth.
“Chickie, dibs,” he growled without taking his lips off my neck. “You need to wait in the damned line.”
“I smell like ass,” I said. “Let me take a shower first.”
Foster pulled back and looked at me. His eyes were wild and weary, lips stained with abrasion from my stubble, hair even messier now from my fingers. “I like ass.”
I grinned. “Good to know. But I still need a shower.”
“If you think I’m letting you out of my sight before morning, Dr. Marian, you’re very much mistaken.”
