The Doctor and Mr. Right

David glanced longingly at the platter of cookies. “Very tempting, but I actually wanted to see if July was interested in stopping for dinner on our way home.”

July’s expression turned thoughtful. She turned to Michelle. “Do you have plans for this evening?”

“No,” Michelle said cautiously. “Why?”

Her friend clearly had something up her sleeve. While Michelle didn’t know what it was, she had a feeling she would soon find out.

“We could grill. It’s a beautiful evening. David could run to the store and get the steaks and beer.” July’s voice trembled with excitement. “You and I could whip up a salad while he’s gone.”

“Sounds good to me.” David glanced at Michelle.

The last thing Michelle wanted was for July and David to feel sorry for her. She’d already planned to have a simple dinner, finish the book she’d been reading and go to bed early. Unless, of course, she got called out for a delivery.

“It does sound like fun, but this is your night without the kids.” Michelle reminded her friends. “You should spend it alone. Or with another couple. Not with me.”

“Are you worried about being a third wheel?” July’s voice rose. “Seriously?”

“If that’s your concern,” David exchanged a look with his wife. “I know how to remedy it.”

Without saying another word, David headed down the deck steps and across the lawn with Sasha on his heels.

“What is he—” The words died in Michelle’s throat as she watched him approach Gabe. “Dear God, tell me he’s not going to invite him to join us.”

July popped a piece of cookie in her mouth. “Looks like it.”

Thankfully, from the way Gabe was shaking his head, it appeared he wasn’t interested. Michelle expelled the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. But her relief was short-lived.

David smiled and headed across the yard, calling over his shoulder. “Come over at six.”

“What was that about?” July asked her husband when he reached the deck, slanting a sideways glance at Michelle.

“I invited Gabe and his daughter to join us and they accepted,” David said with a smug smile.

Gabe and his teenage daughter.

In her house.

Michelle swallowed a nervous laugh and realized feeling like a third wheel was now the least of her concerns.

Chapter Four

“Put some of the brownies you baked this morning on a plate and we’ll take them with us,” Gabe said to his daughter.

Finley looked up from the kitchen table where she sat, book in hand. “I made those for us, not for them.”

Gabe counted to ten and reminded himself that Finley had hoped for a different outcome for this evening. Yesterday she’d asked if she could invite Addie over tonight and he’d said yes. Unfortunately Addie already had plans. “Even though it will be only adults tonight, July is a photographer and I know you like that kind of stuff. Plus Sasha will be there.”

Relief flooded Gabe when Finley’s lips turned upward. His daughter had a deep love for dogs and this was something animals seemed to sense. Earlier Sasha had made a beeline across the yard to Finley.

“I still don’t see why we have to give them our brownies.” Finley pushed back her chair and stood. She glanced down at her denim skirt and top. “Or why I had to dress up.”

Gabe slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave a squeeze. “They’re giving us dinner. The least we can do is bring dessert. And if I had to change, so do you.”

“We looked okay the way we were,” Finley grumbled. “Or at least I did.”

“Oh, so you’re saying it was only me?” Gabe teased.

“No comment.” Finley stepped back and looked him up and down, taking in his khaki pants and blue plaid shirt. “You look…pretty good. For an old guy, that is.”

“I just turned thirty-one.” He bristled with feigned outrage. “Hardly over-the-hill.”

A smile lifted her lips. “Keep telling yourself that, old man.”

Gabe chuckled, overcome with love for this child of his. He thought of the things her mother had been unwilling to give up. College life. Living on campus. Spring break trips.

Not for one minute did he regret the choice he made. He wondered if Shannon could say the same thing.

Impulsively he gave Finley a quick hug, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

“Hey,” she twisted away. Her brows pulled together, but he saw the pleased look in her eyes. “What was that for?”

“I love you.” The words came easily to his lips, the emotion as natural as breathing. “I’m proud of the trouper you’ve been during this move. I know it hasn’t been easy.”

“I’m a Davis.” She pulled back her shoulders and straightened. “According to Grandpa, we do what needs to be done. And we don’t whine.”

Thank you, Dad, Gabe thought. His parents had been such positive role models for Finley.

“He’s absolutely right. As always.” Gabe pulled a paper plate from a drawer, along with some plastic wrap. “This should do for the brownies.”

This time there wasn’t a single grumble as Finley quickly washed her hands, then began transferring the chocolate squares to a disposable plate.

Gabe took a deep breath, feeling suddenly unsure about tonight’s barbecue. He hoped accepting the dinner offer hadn’t been a mistake.

“Do you like her?”

For a second Gabe wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. He turned toward Finley. “Who?”

“Michelle. Our neighbor,” Finley clarified a bit impatiently. “Do you like her?”

“She seems nice.” Gabe chose his words carefully, not wanting there to be any misunderstanding. “If you’re asking if I want to date her, the answer is no.”

Finley tilted her head. “Not your type?”

An image of Michelle flashed before him. A gorgeous blue-eyed blonde with long legs and big—Gabe cut off the thought. “She’s okay. It’s just I don’t want to date anyone right now. This isn’t a good time.”

When he’d graduated with his degree in Construction Management, Gabe had thought long and hard about his next steps. Did he want to stay on the East Coast? Move to Florida where his parents now lived? Or head out west to a part of the country that had always appealed to him?

Finley was already in middle school, so it had been important to consider carefully. If they didn’t relocate soon, she’d be in high school, which would make a move at that point difficult.