Kianna Alexander - A Love Like This

“Until just after the New Year.”

Dr. Stinger adjusted the bed until it lay flat, and then instructed Devon to lie down on his stomach.

The doctor left the room and returned with a portable X-ray machine and the nurse. Once the examination was complete, and the nurse and equipment were out of the room, Dr. Stinger readjusted the bed so Devon could sit upright again.

“I’m going to recommend a nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory for you. Considering your attitude toward medication, I’ll start you at a low dose.” The doctor quickly wrote on his prescription pad. “Also, you’ll need to remain active—walking will help keep the joints lubricated and lessen your discomfort. Where are you staying while you’re here?”

“I’m in a rental town house on Rising Tide Drive.”

Dr. Stinger’s brow hitched. “Two story?”

He nodded.

“You’ll need to stay off the second floor. Walking will help, but climbing stairs several times a day will put undue stress on your injury. Can you make arrangements to do that?”

“I guess so.” He knew that would involve calling MHI and probably interacting with Hadley again.

“You may also need some help around the house. Standing in one spot, such as for cooking or washing dishes, is probably not going to be comfortable. You should consider hiring someone for that kind of thing.” Tearing the prescription from his pad, he handed it over.

Devon accepted the prescription, tucking it into the hip pocket of his jeans. “I’ll look into it.” The housekeeping staff already kept the place clean for him, but he’d still need to make some adjustments. Plus, he’d planned to cook for himself, since he didn’t want to spend two and a half weeks eating takeout. Now he’d have to see if Hadley could spare a staff member to be at his disposal.

As Devon left the clinic, heading for the pharmacy two doors down, he inhaled, letting the ocean breeze fill his nostrils. The air in Los Angeles was notoriously dirty, and deep inhales there often involved suffering through some unpleasant odors. Here, all he smelled was the salt, the sand and the grass.

Coming here once a year did him a world of good. It wasn’t just about escaping the busyness of life in LA—it was about returning home to the place that had shaped his youth. Doing that gave him a sense of peace, and he’d sorely needed that when he lost Natalie.

As he swung open the door to the pharmacy, he contemplated what he would say to Hadley when he called the office to make his requests. She’d said to call if he needed anything, and now he’d have to take her up on that.

Chapter 4

Friday afternoon, Hadley was stretched out on the love seat in her office with her head resting on one of the arms. She held her cell phone to her ear, listening to her mother on the other end of the line.

“Hadley, say something, honey. We need to decide what we’re serving so I can send out for the groceries.” At fifty-six, Viola Monroe was still as fastidious as ever when it came to her holiday menu. While she loved to cook, she hated to shop and always arranged to have the groceries delivered to the house.

“I know, Mama. I like what you’ve mentioned so far.” Hadley tossed one jeans-clad leg over the other, resting her ankles on the opposite arm of the love seat from where she reclined. “We should definitely do a glazed ham. It’s tradition, and I don’t think anybody wants to change it. And the turkey breast was a big hit with the guys last year.”

“We’ll keep those things. But we need to decide on some side dishes to go along with them.” Viola paused a moment before launching into a list. “We need at least three vegetables, two starches, desserts...”

While her mother went on and on about the menu for Christmas dinner, Hadley found her mind wandering. That was common whenever Viola started obsessing about the minutiae of the holiday meal. Today, however, Hadley’s mind wandered into the most enticing territory. She recalled Devon’s arrival in town, and the time she’d spent in the town house with him. Her mind replayed the intense look in his hazel eyes, the way he’d smiled at her. She inhaled and could swear she smelled his woodsy, masculine cologne. She imagined what his arms must look like beneath that sweater, what the hard lines of his chest might feel like beneath her palms...

“Hadley, are you listening to me?”

Snapped back to reality by the harsh tone of her mother’s voice, she swung her legs down and sat up. “Sorry, Mama. I’m swamped with work around here, so my mind wandered a bit.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Viola didn’t sound convinced in the least. “I said, we’ll have roasted potatoes, stuffing, glazed brussels sprouts, green beans and turnip greens to round out the meal.”

“Sounds fantastic.”

“Then I asked you what we should have for dessert.”

Frantically searching her mind for an answer, Hadley nervously drummed her fingers on her thigh. Then she remembered a conversation she’d had with Devon the previous year about his favorite desserts. “Why don’t we have Dutch apple pie and peach cobbler?”

After a few beats, Viola answered, “I like it. We haven’t had those in years, not since your father got on this tiramisu kick.”

Hadley breathed a sigh of relief.

“Now that we’ve settled that, why don’t you tell me what you were really thinking about just now when you were ignoring me?”

Her eyes widened as she realized her relief had been premature. “I, uh...well, I found another stack of repair request forms on my desk yesterday, and Cam wouldn’t—”

Viola scoffed. “Oh, please. You’re my daughter. I’ve only known you since you took your first breath. And I know good and well you weren’t thinking about anything related to work.”

Falling back against the cushioned backrest of her love seat, Hadley sighed. “It’s nothing. It’s just that Devon checked in Wednesday, and I’ve been a bit...distracted.”

Viola’s soft chuckle met that admission. “Honey, I know he’s here. He’s a celebrity. Everybody knows he’s here. What I want to know is when are you going to ask him over for Christmas dinner?”

She bristled. “Mama. I’ve asked him to join us for dinner for the past four years, and every time he’s turned me down.” Devon had always pointed to his desire to spend the day in reflective solitude. She wasn’t sure that was the full story, but who was she to question his choice?

“Maybe the fifth time will be the charm. I respect his wishes if he says no again, but at least ask him, honey. Nobody should be alone on Christmas, and we have so much to share.”

As much as she’d love to bring Devon home for Christmas—if only to corner him under some mistletoe—she still doubted he’d be receptive to her invitation. “I don’t know, Mama.”

Viola cleared her throat. “Hadley Aria Monroe, you are going to ask Devon to join us for Christmas dinner, do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She could tell from her mother’s tone that she didn’t have a choice.

“Heavens, girl. The worst he can do is say no. It isn’t as if he’s going to run you over with his car for inviting him.” Viola chuckled again. “Okay, I’ll let you go. And tell your brothers they’d better straighten up or I’ll send your father over there.”

That comment brought a giggle out of her. “Thanks, Mama. ’Bye.”

After she ended the call with her mother, she rose from the love seat and returned to her desk. While she usually tried to leave early on Friday afternoons, she had a bit more work she wanted to do before she started her weekend. Easing into the seat, she flipped open her laptop.

Before the computer could awaken from sleep mode, her office line rang. Lifting the receiver from the cradle, she placed it to her ear. “Hello?”