Robyn Carr - The Promise

“Sure,” she said.

“The kids were lazy this morning. They were just waking up when Ashley got to the house. I was just about to call Gina and ask her to meet me in the middle of the street with an omelet to go.”

She laughed at him. “Take your time. I’ve got it.”

“You seem pretty well rested,” he observed.

“I had a nap in the fort,” she said with a shrug.

He grinned at her. “And a slight concussion.”

“I should’ve negotiated for hazardous duty pay,” she said, smiling gently.

“Can I bring you back anything?”

“Yeah. If they have something kind of glazed, a sticky bun or donut or something not healthy. I have a little bit of a sweet tooth.”

“I’ll see what I can round up,” he said.

There was still a small breakfast crowd at the diner, though the majority of their clientele was very early, and the rush was usually completely exhausted by nine. Scott took the stool that had become his and asked Gina for his usual.

“Let’s see—three-egg omelet with cheddar and bacon and some potatoes?”

“And coffee.”

She slid the ticket through the serving window to Stu and poured Scott some coffee. “Late night?” she asked.

Of course, Gina would know what went on since Mac was her husband. “It was a mess of people, but we got real lucky. Only a couple of serious injuries. I have to find out what church that is—thirty-seven kids, bounced around a bus, and they not only survived, we didn’t have any critical injuries.”

“Well, except the driver,” she said.

“Poor woman. My money is on a heart attack.”

“And Peyton had your kids?”

He nodded. “I feel terrible about that. We hardly know each other. There was no one to call. If it hadn’t been an emergency of that magnitude, I would never have done that. I wouldn’t have asked. But...”

“I doubt that’ll happen again, Scott. You’ve been here a year—when was the last time we had something that big?”

“I was called out one night when a bunch of drunk teenagers had a brawl and split some lips and skulls. But there were seven of them, and that was madness enough.”

“She must be a very good sport,” Gina said. A bell dinged, and she reached behind her to deliver Scott’s breakfast.

“She is that,” he said. “And she has a very sassy wit—easy to get used to, although Peyton and Devon in the same office could be overwhelming.” He put a forkful of eggs in his mouth.

“And she’s beautiful,” Gina said.

He nodded, swallowed. “No kidding,” he said.

“Maybe your luck is changing.”

“How so?” he asked.

“Scott, you’ve been ready for years now. But the right woman hasn’t appeared. Now you have, right under your nose, a beautiful, funny, talented, single woman. Maybe this one will work out.”

“Not likely,” he said. Not since she’s playing for the girl’s team. “She made it very clear, she’s not interested in men. And she’d only give me a three-month commitment. That’s understandable—a little clinic like mine doesn’t pay well, and she can use this time to find her next position for more than twice the salary. Nah, my luck is the same. Don’t you have a pretty cousin somewhere you can introduce me to?”

“No,” she said with a laugh. “Listen, lots of women say that they don’t want to date. Could be anything—just coming off a breakup, frustration with the way things haven’t worked out in the dating world, some reason we’d never think of....”

That’s for sure, he thought.

“When I was frustrated with Mac not noticing me as a datable woman, a romantic partner, I was so furious I swore off men. Be patient. The right opportunity might present itself.”

“Um-hmm,” he muttered, eating his breakfast. “I think I took you out to dinner a couple of times during your moratorium on men. Timing is everything.”

She smiled at him. “Sorry that didn’t work out, Scott.”

“No, you’re not,” he said.

“No, I’m not. I say we give Peyton time to settle in and then reevaluate.”

“Gina, I say we face facts.” And too bad about the jeans, he thought. But, damn!

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