An Appointment (Summer in New York Book 4) Read online

  What was I going to do with her?

  Her phone kept vibrating, so I checked to see who it was. Her parents were worried sick.

  Since she was living at home, they were probably expecting her to show up at some point. So I answered and told them she got sick and was sleeping. I’d bring her home in the morning.

  Her parents seemed happy about it. I wasn’t sure what her dad thought about his daughter spending the night at my place. But it’s not like we were sixteen. We were adults. And it sounded like Savannah never went out and had any fun. The same could be said for myself since Abigail left me.

  After I got off the phone, I took a shower and brushed my teeth. I thought about sleeping on the couch, since Savannah was in my bed. While that was the respectable thing to do, I wanted to be there in case she needed me in the night. After all, she was going to feel terrible in the morning when she woke up.

  But that was a lie. I didn’t just want to be there in case she needed a doctor.

  I wanted to be there, because it meant I got to be with her.

  I turned out the light and got in bed beside her. Then I listened to her breathing.

  So I rolled onto my side and watched her sleep.

  Wondering if I was staring at my future.

  Chapter 9

  Savannah

  I woke up in a fog. My head pounded like a hammer, and I felt incredibly thirsty.

  When I opened my eyes, Preston was lying in bed beside me. I didn’t recognize the bedroom. It took three seconds for my heart to plummet. Oh no. Had I had too much to drink last night and done something stupid? Something that wasn’t like me at all?

  He slept peacefully on his back, his hands folded over his torso, his face turned towards me.

  I sat up and winced, because my head was killing me. I was wearing a shirt over my dress. But I couldn’t remember putting it on. It was too big for me and smelled like Preston. But it sure was cozy.

  Trying to be quiet, I pushed the covers back and got out of bed. I didn’t want to wake Preston.

  As I backed away, my arm slammed into a lamp on the nightstand. I steadied it in a flash, but the noise was loud enough to wake Preston. He opened his warm brown eyes and saw me, furrowing his brow.

  “Are you leaving?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry about all this.” I kept trying to remember what had happened last night.

  “What are you sorry about?” He sat up and the sheet slid down his lean torso.

  “I’m not—I mean...” I couldn’t find the words. “I don’t do stuff like this.”

  “Like what?” His gaze was piercing. He looked straight through me.

  “I don’t do one night stands.”

  He grinned. “Neither do I.”

  Now I felt very confused. “I’m being serious.”

  “So am I.” He got out of bed and approached me in a pair of gray sweatpants. “What do you think happened last night?”

  I met his gaze and shuddered when he put his hands on my arms. “We...” I looked at the bed, frustrated that last night was still a blur. “Did we?” I stared up at him. “We didn’t?”

  He shook his head slowly.

  I ran my fingers through my hair, feeling irresponsible and reckless. “What happened last night?”

  “You got sick and passed out.”

  “But we didn’t?” I asked again.

  “No.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Nothing happened.”

  I sighed in relief, deflating like a balloon. “Oh, thank God.”

  Hurt flashed across his face like lightning in the storm.

  “No, I don’t mean that. I mean, it’s not like I don’t find you attractive. And you’re sweet. And you were a real gentleman to not take advantage of me. I just mean that I—” I was rambling and stuttering and embarrassing myself. “I just don’t like to move that fast. I don’t want to move too fast.”

  He cupped my cheek with a smile. “Then why don’t we take it slow and start with breakfast?”

  I didn’t know how to answer that. His hand felt so nice. And I loved the way he was looking at me.

  “Okay,” I said, all shy and awkward.

  “Can I have my shirt back?” he asked.

  “Oh, here.” I pulled it over my head. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” He slipped his arms through the sleeves and tugged it on. “Do you want some eggs?”

  “Sure.” I felt out of place in my short red dress. “I mean, yeah. That would be great.”

  Preston went to the kitchen while I freshened up in the bathroom. He’d left a spare toothbrush out for me with a note. It was so thoughtful of him. But part of me doubted the goodness in why he had an extra toothbrush on hand. Was he in the habit of bringing women back to his place that he hardly knew?

  And why did I care so much? He was a grown man. It was a free country. He could do what he wanted.

  Maybe I was jealous. I’d been entertaining the fantasy that whatever he was doing was only with me.

  I drank some water from the faucet and ran my fingers through my hair. It would look better if I could brush it, but I’d have to make due. A wonderful aroma made me forget about how haggard I looked. I followed the lovely smell into the living room where I saw Preston on the other side of the bar. He was at the stove making breakfast for me, and it felt like I was living in a daydream.

  “Here.” He set a tall glass on the counter. “Drink this.”

  I approached the bar with caution and sized up the glass with equal care.

  “What is it?” It kind of looked like tomato juice. But it smelled like something else.

  “Just try it,” he said. “It will make you feel better.”

  I took a sip and shivered. It didn’t taste so bad. Certainly nothing I’d experienced before. There was chilled tomato juice inside the glass. I just wasn’t sure what else was in this mystery concoction.

  “Not so bad, right?” He cracked a couple of eggs and fried them in a skillet.

  “No.” I sat down on a bar stool and drank a little more. “So what is this? The hangover cure?”

  “Only the best for you, Ms. Taylor.” He looked at me with a smile and then cooked the eggs.

  “Is this what you make for every woman who spends the night?” I asked.

  He froze for a second, smoldering. At first, I thought he might not have heard me. But he had.

  “You have a spare toothbrush ready. You make this drink. You fix her breakfast.”

  Preston turned to face me and set his hands on the counter. “Do I do this all the time? Is that what you’re asking me?”

  “I’d just like to know if you’ve made a habit of it.”

  “Of what?” he said sternly.

  “Enjoying your newfound freedom as a bachelor.”

  Now he was glaring at me.

  “Come on. You’re smart and successful. Maybe you don’t think much of it, but this is a really nice place. You’re a doctor. You help children. You’re easy on the eyes.”

  “What are you getting at?” he asked.

  “Women must throw themselves at you. You’re a single guy. I get it. You’re—”

  “I’m what?” He was angry now. A crinkle formed between his dark brows.

  “Never mind. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

  “What doesn’t matter?” He put his hand on his waist. “Savannah, you can be so frustrating sometimes. I can’t read your mind. Tell me what you mean.”

  It wasn’t my place to judge. But I was inexperienced compared to the average person. Kevin was the only man I’d ever been with. Was it wrong of me to hope that Preston hadn’t slept with as many women who would have him the minute he was divorced? The way it felt like Kevin had?

  “How many women have you brought here?” I asked.

  He looked me in the eye. “One.”

  “Including me?” I wondered.

  He sighed and looked down. “It’s only you, Savannah. Just you.”

  I felt terrible for j
umping to conclusions. But the only experience I had with romance was with the man who had broken my heart and taken everything from me. It was wrong to assume every man would be just like Kevin. The truth was—I had a lot to learn.

  “Just because I’m a bachelor doesn’t mean I’m promiscuous.” He looked hurt. There was pain in his eyes. “I don’t care what society says about being a man. I’ll make love to a woman when I love her. I’m not into casual sex and I don’t do one night stands. I loved my wife. And I was faithful to her. But all she cared about was spending my money. So forgive me if I’m not in a hurry to share my bed with strangers. I wasn’t born that way. Sex means something to me. And I’ve only shared it with women I’ve loved. Not that it’s any of your damn business.”

  He turned off the stove and looked like he was about to start howling. Then he glared at me.

  “It’s not your place to judge what you think I am—someone you don’t even know. If I don’t meet your standards of perfection, then no man will. And if you really feel that way about me, then you can let yourself out.” He stormed out of the kitchen.

  “Preston—”

  “Don’t bother.” He walked into his bedroom and slammed the door.

  A chill ran up my spine. I felt very cold all of a sudden. I looked at the eggs he’d been making for me on the stove. That’s when tears spilled out from my eyes. Why had I just ruined everything?

  I’d been judging Preston as a single, good-looking man. But I hadn’t taken the time to judge him based on the things I’d actually seen. So far, he’d been nothing but a respectful gentleman. He offered me help when I needed it. He treated my son better than Kevin had. He flattered me with compliments.

  One look from him, and I felt adored.

  Kevin had never made me feel that way. Not when I thought about it. Not really.

  I cried quietly and dried my eyes. Preston was right. I wasn’t being fair to him. It wasn’t right.

  How could I sit here and judge him based on assumptions I’d made up in my head?

  I’d treated him terribly. He didn’t deserve this. I would leave if he wanted me to. But not without apologizing first. Preston had shown signs of nothing but a good man. Of course he was angry with me. He should be. If he never wanted to see me again, I understood. I would be upset that I’d ruined a chance with him. But maybe I deserved it.

  I had to stop treating men like they were all the same.

  I had to stop generalizing.

  Preston was one man.

  That didn’t mean he was anything like Kevin. Not necessarily.

  And yet, I’d let my experience with him dictate everything.

  I resented my past with Kevin. So why was I letting it control my future?

  I found my purse on the couch and my shoes on the floor. Preston probably didn’t want anything to do with me at this point. Unless it involved Trey. But I couldn’t leave without making things right.

  Swallowing my pride, I went to his bedroom door and knocked.

  “What?”

  I cleared my throat and asked, “May I come in?”

  Preston opened the door and sighed. Then he moved out of the way and sat down on the bed.

  I lingered with my purse in my hands, while he studied the carpet. I wanted to kick myself for blowing a shot with this beautiful man. This practical stranger who had been nothing but kind to me. I didn’t deserve him.

  “Preston, I’m sorry.”

  He looked at the inside of his palm. “For what?”

  “For what I said. For how I acted. I shouldn’t have judged you like that. I was wrong.”

  He lowered his head. “What have I done to make you assume I’m some player?”

  “Nothing.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “It’s nothing you did, Preston.”

  He still wouldn’t look at me. So I dared to sit down beside him.

  “It’s not you. It’s me.”

  “That’s a cop out.”

  “No, it’s not,” I said.

  He actually looked at me.

  “It is me,” I said.

  “I deserve an explanation.”

  I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, biting my lip.

  “You’re going to have to open up at some point, Savannah. And it might as well be with me.”

  This was hard. He was pushing me out of my comfort zone. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t right.

  “It’s just...” I shook my head. “I haven’t had much experience with men. I keep thinking every man is going to be like Kevin. And I guess I’m just trying not to get my hopes up.” I looked at my hands. “I know that’s wrong. But I don’t want to feel that way again. I don’t ever want to—”

  “Savannah.” He took my face in his hands. “I’m not him. Whatever guy you think I am.”

  I swallowed, trapped in his soft gaze.

  “I’m not your ex. And you’re not mine. That’s why this might actually work.” He brushed his thumb against my cheek. “If you’d only give it a chance.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said with tears in my eyes. “This is really hard for me.”

  “That’s okay.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “I’ve never wanted anything easy.”

  I smiled, because he was making me feel better than Kevin ever had.

  “If you want me to leave, I’ll go,” I said.

  “I’d rather you stay. Only if you want to.”

  I grinned, nodding my head. “Yes.”

  “But you’re making breakfast now.”

  I bit my lip to hide a smile. “That sounds fair.”

  He stood and opened his hand to me. I put my hand in his, and he led me back to the kitchen. Strangely, I felt at home in his place—as unfamiliar as his condo was to me. There was warmth here. The kind that had nothing to do with the thermostat. It was Preston. His smile lit me up like the sun.

  “Do you like eggs benedict?” I asked, rifling through his fridge.

  “Yeah.” He took a seat at the bar, folding his hands like a good little boy.

  I set the ingredients on the counter and busied myself with preparing our food. He watched me quietly, his eyes on my every move. Even though he was staring at me, I never felt scrutinized or rushed. He was admiring me, for the mere sake of it. It was nice to spend time with someone who just let me be.

  “Do you make this for Trey?” he asked.

  “Sometimes,” I said. “He loves breakfast food. My dad has been spoiling him with it.”

  Preston smiled.

  “He’s the real chef. My cooking is all right, I guess.”

  “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” he said.

  I blushed at the memory of a particular morning when I was married to Kevin. He hadn’t liked the way I’d prepared his breakfast. So he’d thrown his plate against the wall and then stormed out, slamming the door. I’d been left to pick up the pieces, cleaning up his mess while he drove off in a rage.

  “It looks great,” Preston said, bringing me out of my bad memory.

  “Thanks.” I served our plates and sat down at the bar beside him.

  “Would you like some coffee?” he asked.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot to get us something to drink.”

  “It’s okay.” He smiled, standing up. “I’ve got it.” He went around the bar and filled two cups with coffee. As he slid mine across the counter, our fingers brushed. “Do you need sugar or cream?”

  “No. I take mine black.”

  He returned to his bar stool beside me. “So do I.”

  “Well?” I couldn’t eat until he took the first bite.

  He picked up his fork and sawed a piece for himself. Then he plopped it into his mouth, groaning in appreciation from the very first bite. I couldn’t believe how much he liked it. It made me flutter.

  “That’s good, Savannah. The best I’ve ever tasted.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I’m not kidding. This is amazing.” He helped himself to an
other couple of bites.

  “Well, Dadddy taught me how to make it. So it’s his recipe.”

  “I’ve seen people butcher a good recipe,” he said. “Give yourself credit. This is awesome.”

  My soul filled with excitement. But I was too afraid to let it in. I wasn’t used to a man acting this way about my cooking. It didn’t feel real. I was afraid if I enjoyed the feeling, it would go away.

  After breakfast, Preston took care of the dishes. He wouldn’t even let me help.

  It felt too good to be true. Was he really this wonderful? If so, then how was he still single?

  Surely, a woman would have snagged him up. Then again, since his divorce, maybe he’d gotten a little gun shy. Just like me. Only, when it came to my level of fear, a little was an understatement.

  “I’m sure Trey and your parents are wondering where you are. Why don’t I take you home?”

  “Thank you,” I said. “And thanks for taking care of the dishes.”

  He shot me a strange look. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Well, I—”

  “I don’t believe in treating women like servants. That’s how my father raised me.”

  I was speechless.

  “A woman’s place isn’t in the kitchen. Unless she wants it to be.”

  “I’ve never heard it put that way before,” I said.

  “Well.” He lifted my chin in his hand. “That’s because you’ve never met anyone like me.”

  His words echoed in my mind on the ride home. When he pulled into my parents’ drive, I unfastened my seatbelt and looked over at him. He was already staring at me.

  “Thanks for everything last night. I haven’t gone out like that in ages.”

  He nodded.

  “I had a really nice time. Except for the part where I got sick. I’m sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay.” He looked into my eyes. “I had a really nice time, too.”

  We stared at each other until he leaned across the console and kissed me. Closing my eyes, I surrendered to my body and wrapped my arms around him. He took a breath and crushed his lips to mine, cradling my face in his hands. His kisses were hot and passionate, but always tender, always sweet.

  “I’d like to see you again,” he said, once he caught his breath.