Every Glance (Every Life #3) Read online

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  Every Glance

  Book Three in the Every Life Series

  Copyright © 2015 Tasha Ivey

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This one is for my minions.

  Thank you for your friendship, laughter, and love.

  You’re the reason I do what I do.

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  About the Author

  “LOWER, DOCTOR HOOVER. The pain is much lower.”

  With my hand up the back of her shirt, I palpate along the spine of my newest patient, the latest of at least twenty this week alone. I had grown accustomed to the revolving door of drug abusers and hypochondriacs in the emergency room, and I thought that taking the job in Dr. Miller’s practice would be a nice change of pace for me. Calmer. You know, handing lollipops out to children for being brave during their vaccinations or listening to the stories of long ago from the chatty, lonely elderly.

  I certainly wasn’t expecting this.

  “I can take my bra off if it will make things easier for you,” the newly divorced Ms. Carlton coos, reaching for the clasp behind her back as she gasps dramatically. “I just can’t bend that way without pain shooting down my back. A handsome young doctor like you surely gets plenty of practice removing women’s lingerie. I wouldn’t mind if you do it. Only so you can do your job more efficiently, of course.”

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “That won’t be necessary. I think you just have a little back strain, but I’m going to order a few tests to rule out any other causes of your pain.”

  Her face lights up. “Oh? Do I need to undress?”

  Hell no. “I’ll send my nurse in to help you into a gown, and she’ll take you down to x-ray. Once I get a look at the film, I’ll be back in to discuss.” While her flirty smile dims, I pat her shoulder and choke down the smile clawing its way to the surface.

  This will probably get old really quickly, but for now, the humor isn’t completely lost on me.

  AND, OF COURSE, as suspected, there’s nothing wrong with the woman’s back, other than she’s been on it quite a bit lately from what I’ve heard. The rumor mill is saying that Mr. Carlton left her because he wasn’t getting any, so I wonder what he thinks about her giving it up to every willing man she encounters.

  I have a sneaking suspicion that I’m her latest target. Don’t get me wrong, she’s an attractive woman, but considering the fact that I’m only twenty-seven, she’s also about twenty years older than the women I usually date.

  Speaking of dates, I think, glancing down at my watch. I still need to run home to shower and pick up the house a bit before Kathryn gets there.

  “Oh, come on, Dalton. She only wanted a little backrub from the only hot bachelor left in this town,” my nurse, Ella, jokes. “Now that I think about it, I’m worried we have an epidemic on our hands. All the single women and lonely housewives in a fifty mile radius have been stricken with some mysterious illness over the last few weeks. And every single one thinks that you have the cure for it. Wonder why that is.”

  I nudge her with my elbow. “I’m sorry. All I heard was that you think I’m hot.”

  “And the fact that you don’t even realize it makes you even more so. If I wasn’t a happily married woman and your pseudo-mom, I might try to play doctor with you, too.”

  “Right,” I snicker and roll my eyes, tossing the last of the day’s charts into the wire basket on her desk. “Does your husband know how much you sexually harass me?”

  Right on cue, as always, Dr. Stan Miller shuffles into her office. The dark circles and bags under his eyes are telling of too few hours of sleep this week and too many hours on-call, but his eyes are still bright with humor. “I know how she is, and I don’t mind as long as she sexually harasses me when we get home. See, Dalton, I have it made. I can play doctor all she wants, but she can also play nurse. As you can imagine, all of our medical needs, among others, are perfectly satisfied.”

  I pretend to cringe at his remark, but I end up laughing. “Well, on that note, I’m going to leave you two to . . . whatever it is you do after I leave. I have a date tonight.”

  “Oooh, you’re still seeing Sarah?” Ella leans forward to rest her elbows on an enormous stack of files on her desk. Damn, we’ve seen a lot of patients today.

  Dr. Miller taps his chin. “Sarah? Is that the one with the curly blonde hair and the killer legs?”

  “No, no. That one was Casey. Sarah is the one with the short brown hair and the cleavage.”

  “Oh, yeah. A bit dimwitted, but cute. I like the little butterfly tattoo on her collarbone. It looks like it’s fluttering its wings when she breathes.”

  “No, Stan, it was Brittany with that tattoo. Sarah has the tiny diamond stud in her nose.”

  Okay, so listening to my colleagues go back and forth over the women I’ve had in my life lately is quite an eye-opener. Yeah, I date. A lot. And I rarely see them more than a handful of times before I find a reason to move on, usually before anything can get too serious. Because I didn’t date in high school or college, I tell myself I’m making up for lost time. And I have a lot of making up to do. Not too many girls were attracted to the school’s least favorite nerd.

  “Actually, I’m seeing Kathryn tonight. Our third date. Even though I’ve tried my best to deter her, she’s coming over to my place for dinner.”

  Ella sighs. “Never let them too close, huh? So is tonight the night you’re going to end it? How are you going to do it this time?”

  “Come on, El, it’s not like that. I just don’t see any point in continuing a relationship if I’m not into it.” That’s the manly thing to say, anyway. Actually, I can always sense when they start losing interest in me, so I end things before they even have a chance to realiz
e it themselves. It saves us both a lot of time and heartache, really.

  Dr. Miller snickers. “Sounds a lot like me when I started college. I was making my rounds long before I had a license to do so.”

  “Yeah, but that’s exactly what I’m saying. Dalton isn’t in college anymore. He’s finished med school, and he has a good job. Granted, he’s younger than most doctors, but he’s no pimple-faced frat boy. There aren’t any good reasons why he shouldn’t start thinking more seriously about settling down a little bit.”

  Yep, she does sound a lot like a mom. “I got a late start, so I’m not in any hurry to rush to the finish line. I want to take the scenic route.”

  Ella stares blankly at me for a minute before shaking her head in acquiescence. “Fine. I do agree that you deserve to do a little sightseeing. See what fish are in the pond, and all that nonsense. But just remember, you have to go home sometime. You might want to start thinking about who you want to greet you at the front door every day.”

  “You do know your analogies get a little off course sometimes, right? I can’t understand half of what you’re getting at most of the time.” Stan chuckles and walks behind his wife’s desk to squeeze her shoulders. “But I agree with what I think you’re saying, anyway.”

  She doesn’t say anything, but she smiles slightly and covers one of his hands with her own. Ella is waiting for me to concede, and I know she won’t stop glaring at me until I do.

  So I do.

  “I agree, too. I promise to keep it in mind, okay?” But that doesn’t mean I have any intentions with actually following through with it. Is she serious? She acts like it’s that easy. Find a nice girl who doesn’t find fault in everything I am or everything I do, convince her that I’m the kind of man she would be lucky to spend the rest of her life with, and then try not to screw all of that up for the next fifty or sixty years.

  Yeah, piece of freaking cake.

  “AWW! I LOVE your little porch! It’s just so cute!”

  Yep. That’s what I was going for. Cute.

  I descend the front steps to greet Kathryn halfway down the sidewalk. “Uh, thanks. It’s small, but I like to sit out here or on the back porch at night to wind down every once in a while.”

  It’s a routine I picked up from my dad. That old wrought iron bench with the flaking red paint sat on their porch, and every evening, as long as the weather wasn’t doing anything extreme, he’d sit there for about fifteen minutes. Listening to the birds announcing the day’s end. Listening to the distinct cadence of a katydid’s love song. But most importantly, listening to nothing at all. No ringing phones, no crying children, no desperate pleas for unneeded medication. Yeah, my dad was a doctor, too. More accurately, a pediatrician. And a damn good one, at that. In the father department, however, he was severely lacking.

  There wasn’t any time for playing catch or sitting down together to watch a football game. No, the only downtime we spent together was on that porch. In complete quiet. I didn’t understand the rule of silence at first, but my appreciation for it now is boundless. Something tells me that Chatty Kathy here would never get it.

  “Well, it’s adorable, just like the house. Although, to be honest, I didn’t picture you living in a quaint, little country house. I pictured something more urban. Modern.”

  She sounds disappointed. Surprise, surprise.

  And after showing her around the inside of the house, I can sense the disapproval running just under the surface of her sugar-laced smile. Gone are the little crinkles that form on the bridge or her nose when her smile is genuine. Her tone is absent of its usual brightness and inflection. I know how a woman’s mind works. I’m fully aware that she expected a doctor to live more extravagantly. She came here tonight because she wanted to see if I live up to her expectations, to see if I could fit into the perfect little mold she had in mind for me.

  Which is why I gave in when she wanted to come here tonight. I wanted to get proof of what I’d begun to suspect on our last date when she ordered a $200 bottle of wine at dinner. I have enough money to cover something like that on occasion, but it’s the principle. She didn’t consult me; she just ordered it, knowing I would pay for it. I don’t even like freaking wine. It’s basically rotten fruit juice.

  Now, I’m not saying she’s a gold digger, but if the $1400 Jimmy Choo’s fit . . .

  I’m just serving the spaghetti—the one dish I make that’s fit for human consumption—when my cell phone buzzes on the bar. “Excuse me just a moment, Kathryn.”

  “Sure,” she sighs, clearly irritated that I’m taking a call during our date. It’s not like it could possibly be a medical emergency or anything.

  “What the hell are cummerbunds?” Sawyer growls on the other end of the line before I can finish my greeting. Sawyer and Makenna got engaged several months ago, and as it inches closer and closer, he’s gets a little more frustrated.

  “Uh, aren’t those the little fabric things that go around your waist?”

  “Shit. Mak asked if I ordered those, and I told her I had. I thought she was talking about those little flowers that go on the jacket lapel. No wonder she looked at me like I was crazy when I told her we still needed pins for them.”

  “Those are boutonnieres,” I explain.

  “The pins?”

  I chuckle at his complete lack of wedding vocabulary. That is, until I wonder why I have one. “No, the flowers. The pins are just . . . pins. And you didn’t order cummerbunds because you decided on vests. Remember?”

  An unnaturally long exhale blows into the speaker at the same time one comes from my dining room table. Kathryn’s patience is wearing thin, and she’s not doing a good job of hiding it.

  “I guess that’s why I chose you as my best man, huh? This whole wedding thing is causing some sort of temporary amnesia or something. I have no clue what’s going on anymore. Thanks for helping me keep my shit straight, D.”

  “And all this time I thought you chose me because I look damn good in a suit.”

  Sawyer’s laughter triggers my own. It’s kind of a joke between us. Back in high school, we were forced to wear suits to the graduation ceremony. I was so thin back then that my suit just hung from my shoulders. Sawyer said it looked like it was still on the hanger. Thank God I no longer look like Captain America before he was Captain America.

  “Exactly,” Sawyer chuckles. “Hey, Mak and I are about to go over to the Fall Fest to hear the bands and eat an unhealthy amount of fried food. Wanna come along in case I get a blocked artery?”

  My eyes dart over to Kathryn. I’d love to go, but I doubt she would. Which is exactly why I’m going to accept. “Can I bring my date along?”

  “Sure. Jill?”

  Sigh. “Her name is Kathryn. We’ll meet you there in about twenty minutes.”

  But if I’m right. It’ll just be me.

  THERE’S NOTHING QUITE as perfect as the emergence of fall. The sound of the dry leaves rustling in the trees and crunching under your feet. The gentle breeze ushering in a slight chill, forcing you to pull your hooded sweatshirts from the back of your closet once again. It’s my favorite time of year.

  Another thing I love about fall is being able to ride in my car with the windows rolled down, which isn’t something you do much of during the steamy Alabama summers. As the wind swirls around me, I fill both lungs with the earthy scent of it and enjoy its tender ribbons slipping through my hair. Too bad I don’t have Kathryn with me because I would’ve loved to hear her complain about the wind messing up her hair.

  Not.

  Just as I thought, as soon as I told her we’d be going out with Sawyer and Makenna to the Fall Fest, she started listing the reasons why she couldn’t go with us, and I’ve never been more relieved in my life. I knew from the beginning that she wasn’t my usual type, but I had hopes that getting outside of my comfort zone would be good for me. They say that opposites attract, after all. But in this case? Uh, no.

  I pull into one of the last remaining parking s
pots outside of the road barricades near the town square. Colorful food tents of all sizes line one side of the street, and bluesy music ripples between the crush of festival goers. The combination of freshly made funnel cakes and the spinning lights of the Ferris wheel brings back a memory of Sawyer sneaking me out to my first county fair when we were fourteen, and a wide smile creeps onto my face.

  “Where is she?” Makenna yells as soon as I kill the engine. I guess I was too wrapped up in my thoughts to notice them standing there.

  “Who?” I love giving her a hard time.

  “The girl! I thought you were bringing a girl!”

  I lock my car and step onto the curb, pausing to kiss her cheek. “To the Fall Fest? Our town kinda frowns on transvestites, so I have to keep her all to myself for now.”

  “Dalton. You’re a terrible liar.”

  I chuckle at her scowl. It’s not the least bit intimidating, but she likes to think it is. “Actually, she opted not to come. And I have opted to not see her again.”

  “What was it this time?” Sawyer’s heavy palm claps on my shoulder in a half hug.

  I shrug. “She’s wine and charity galas, and I’m beer and campfires. Not a good combination.”

  “Yeah,” he says, handing Mak her sweater, “I have to agree with you on that one.”

  “Oh, come on, Dalton. There’s always some excuse. You need to give someone a chance. Just tell me what kind of girl you’re looking for, and maybe I can set you up with one of my friends.”

  “Mak, I appreciate that. Really. But I’m not in any hurry to join you and Sawyer and Callie and Wes. I don’t have all that much time to put into a serious relationship right now, so I just want to keep things casual.” I have an uncontrollable urge to check the back of my shirt to see if there’s a sign tell people to give me relationship advice.

  “Fine, but think about it. Okay?”

  “You’ll be the first to know if I decide to take you up on the offer.”