Page 21 of Doctor Grump

What on earth had just happened?

Embarrassment flooded in as the memory washed back. Still, I pieced it together, one by one. I had walked into the room to find Ian shirtless. He had turned around and seen me. It seemed that after that, an interesting and particular type of madness had taken over me.

I had no idea what came over me at that minute or what creature was controlling my body, urging me to touch Ian. But I had done it, had felt his taut skin drawn tightly over those muscles. Then, I looked up at his green eyes, which were filled with a searing heat. And after that, I was lost.

Jeez, who knew men could look like that outside of romance book covers. And what on earth was a psychologist doing with a body like that?

A body that I just wanted to continue caressing and fondling and maybe at some point put my tongue on it.

I might have done it too, probably taken it a lot further if he hadn’t made that noise.

And what on earth hadthatbeen about? The noise had sounded halfway tortured, harsh like a rejection, but not really…maybe not at all.

Did he…could he possibly have felt it too? Could he even have felt half of what I felt?

It seemed ridiculous to think about, but then I remembered the darkness of his gaze, the tightness of his jaw, and the way he had stalked toward me like some kind of predator on the prowl…

A lustful shiver went down my spine. I didn’t think I had imagined it. At least some part of Ian Graham wanted me.

OrhadI imagined it?

I shook my head, trying to clear it and center myself once more. Gah, I needed to stop thinking about it, or I was going to go crazy. It didn’t matter if Ian Graham desired me or not. Either way, I couldn’t do this, not with Ian. He was a good-looking man, and it was all fine and good when I fantasized about him, but the reality of us together would be a disaster. Even apart from the fact that he was my boss and I needed this job, we barely liked each other. And Lord knew I couldn’t do casual flings. I already tried that before, with disastrous results. Imagine getting my heart attached to a man like Ian. The very thought terrified me.

A man like Ian could crush my spirit without even trying.

No. I couldn’t let that happen.

And besides, it wouldn’t happen anyway. Ian barely liked me. I figured, on his end, what happened today would simply be chalked up as a near-lethal mistake, one which he would wipe from his memory.

In the meantime, I had a job to do.

After I was sure the worst of my embarrassment had cooled, I finally walked out into the living room to see Kendy on the couch, flipping through channels. She looked up at me when I walked in, and I pasted a smile on my face.

“Your dad should be with us soon,” I said. “In the meantime, we can get started with dinner.”

She raised an eyebrow, looking very much like her father at that moment. “He told you to get lost, didn’t he?”

“No,” I emphasized the word. “He was just…busy with a few things. I’m sure he will join us soon.”

Kendy didn’t look so sure, but she shrugged and got up from the couch, reluctantly heading to the dining table. She looked over the spread of roast chicken and potatoes without any expression on her face, not even lingering on the pineapple pie, which was usually a hit with kids.

“I’m a great cook, you know,” I said as I dished some food for her, undeterred by her silence. “I mean, you can probably tell, but I can also tell you that I have outdone myself this time. Come on, try these potatoes. I’m not usually egotistical, but I promise you have never had anything better in all your life.”

I placed the plate in front of her, and she eyed it before unenthusiastically sticking her fork in it. She glanced up at me when she did, and I nodded my encouragement for her to continue. She sighed like I had given her the biggest task in the world, then lifted the fork to her mouth. Her eyes flared in surprise, but a slight murmur was the only indication she gave that she enjoyed the food.

“See? See?” I sat next to her and filled up my plate. “Am I a cooking genius or not? Oh, hold on, let me get your dad a plate first.”

“I don’t think he’s coming down,” she said before bringing another forkful of potatoes to her mouth.

“He’ll come,” I assured her. “He hasn’t talked to you all day. Of course he’ll be down. He’s probably just showering first.”

Kendy gave me a somber look and turned back to her meal. It was an awkward dinner, but I was good at filling awkward silences with meaningless chatter. I spoke to the little girl about my family and told her some funny stories about my sister and me, how she used to pick on me, and how I would get her back. I even told her about the time I ‘accidentally’ let the class mouse out on one of my bullies after they kept following me around, chanting “little piggy.” She didn’t say much in response to my stories, but I started to get the impression that she was listening to what I said. I even got a smile or two out of her when I told her the embarrassing story about how I got my first period and was sure I was dying. And, of course, she only gave short one-worded responses when I asked her any questions about her day. Still, I counted the dinner as a success, and it would have been even better if not for one thing.

Ian never showed up.

I tried not to let it get to me, but as the dinner concluded and Kendy went up to her room, I found myself unduly peeved. Not for myself but for Kendy. How on earth did a father not even bother saying good night to his daughter before she went to bed? He hadn’t spoken to her since morning and hadn’t seen her at dinner. The least he could do was tuck her in. When I was that age, my father tucked me in every night and would sometimes read me a bedtime story even though I was way too old for that. I had pretended to hate it, thinking it was childish, but secretly, I loved those one-on-one moments with my dad. In the same way, Kendy liked to pretend she didn’t care about Ian’s actions, but of course, she did. She was still a kid, one who needed her father, and Ian needed to form a better relationship with his daughter, starting today.

The minute I put the last dish away, I wiped my hands dry and headed up the stairs. I hesitated when I got to his bedroom door, taking a deep breath before knocking, not wanting to repeat my last mistake. I knocked for a good minute, but there was no answer.

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