With a sigh she packaged the blood sample, affixed the fictitious patient name, though it was silly since she and whatever lab rat did the testing would be the only people to see the name, and put it in the bag with the other blood samples from her patients she’d gathered.
She’d send off her blood sample with the rest of the labs she’d collected for her own peace of mind. Once the thought of pregnancy had entered her mind, it had ruled her entire existence and she’d been unable to think of anything else.
She pushed away from her desk and then looked out her window to see the courier who picked up her labs drive up to the clinic. Perfect timing. No time to chicken out and remove her specimen. She snagged the insulated bag, zipped it up and hurried toward the entrance.
The driver met her at the door with a friendly smile. He collected the bag from Maren and then hurried back to his van with a wave. Her pulse raced and she had to quell the urge to yell for him to come back. She bit her lips and forced herself to remain still until the vehicle was out of sight.
With a sigh she turned back and walked inside the clinic to lock up for the night. Her patient load had been light today and her last patient had left the clinic an hour before, leaving Maren to finish up the labs and draw her own blood.
After turning off all the lights, she let herself out the front and locked the door. She walked slower to her cottage, the afternoon sun warm on her skin. She palmed her belly, wondering if even now there was a tiny life forming inside her. Then she castigated herself for dwelling on it so much.
If it turned out she wasn’t pregnant, would she be relieved or disappointed?
It wasn’t a question she had the answer to. There was a small part of her that welcomed the idea of a baby, no matter how ill prepared she was for having a child. And a much larger part of her that panicked at the mere thought.
But there was absolutely nothing she could do about it now except wait for the results of the blood test. And it did her no good to play the what-if game. It would only make her crazy.
It was warm in her cottage, so she opened the windows to allow the breeze in and circulate more air. She had no desire to cook and so she rummaged through her cabinets for something quick and easy.
She put a kettle of water to boil for her routine cup of tea after a day of work, selecting a tea bag and placing it in her favorite mug that one of the locals had gifted her with. It was handpainted, a beautiful array of colors, vivid, in russet earth tones. It soothed and comforted her, and she definitely needed calming today.
Deciding on a sandwich with locally made cheese and a homemade herb spread she’d picked up from a local street vendor, she sat at her tiny table and stared through the picture window, enjoying the breeze on her face.
She savored every sip of the tea and decided that she’d have another and maybe get in some reading as a reward for a shorter day. It wasn’t often she finished with her patients before nightfall. And even when she’d closed down and gone home, she was often visited at her cottage after hours by people in need of medical attention.
She preferred not to make house calls, because she liked to be certain what she was getting into, but she’d delivered two babies in their homes when labor had progressed too quickly for the women to make it to a hospital.
After finishing the first cup of tea, she set the kettle off the stove and turned it off, deciding to shower and change into more comfortable clothing before indulging in her second cup and a good book.
Twenty minutes later she returned to the kitchen, her still-damp hair combed out and hanging down her shoulders. She was pouring the boiling water into her mug when a knock sounded at her door.
She sighed because she knew she’d jinxed herself by thinking how nice it was to have had an early day. Nothing like inviting a house call by making plans for a quiet, relaxing evening.
Setting her cup aside, she went to her door and cracked it an inch. Dusk had fallen, but she had no problem making out the man standing in her doorway, his expression indecipherable. Her eyes widened as she continued to stare dumbly at him.
“Going to invite me in?” Steele asked gruffly.
For a moment she just stood there, unable to make her mouth work, and her body refused her brain’s commands to step back and let him in.
“Steele,” she said faintly.
“Glad you remember me,” he said dryly.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you,” he said shortly. Then he looked pointedly at the door handle she still clutched with her hand.
She hastily stepped back, opening the door wider as she gestured for him to enter.
He strode in as if he belonged and then stood in the living room, turning to face her as she closed the door and turned her attention to him.
They stared in silence, him studying her every bit as much as she studied him. Her tongue was tied. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say to him. He was the very last person she would have expected to show up.
Then it dawned on her that the only time she saw him was when one of his team members needed medical attention.
“Is something wrong? Is someone hurt? Should I head to the clinic?”
Steele slowly shook his head. “I came alone.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why?”
He dragged a hand through his hair and briefly looked away. His entire stance signaled he was ill at ease. He didn’t immediately answer and that puzzled her. He was blunt, straightforward. Never one to mince words. And yet he seemed to be having a hard time articulating his thoughts.
“I was supposed to get you out of my system. One night. Needed you out from underneath my skin,” he finally bit out.