“You paying is a big deal. I’ll pay you back,” she said stubbornly.
“Consider it a donation.”
“No.”
“You really need a board of directors to answer to.”
“And it’s you making the decision that’s a big deal.”
“Wouldn’t it be forgivable if I made the decision based on the presumption you might be having cognitive difficulties? Even if you weren’t?”
He blinked at her. He happened to know he had eyelashes women found irresistible. He wasn’t opposed to using them as a weapon when backed into a corner.
She stared at him. Blinked herself. Looked away.
“Talk about cognitive difficulties,” she muttered. He was pleased that she suddenly lost her desire to argue with him. Still, she couldn’t just give in! Let him have the last word!
“I will pay you back.”
“Fine. I’ll take it out in milkshakes. A lifetime supply. I like licorice.”
“A lifetime supply? How much is the procedure going to cost?”
Seeing the worry creasing her brow, he cut the amount in half and was rewarded for his little lie when she looked relieved.
“There is no such thing as a licorice milkshake,” she said.
“That just shows you’ve never been to the Moo Factory.”
“Besides, if you think other people making decisions for you is no big deal, I’ll pick the flavor of your lifetime supply.”
It was all turning lighter. He could tell it was against her will. Maybe she was experiencing cognitive impairment!
“Have at it,” he said drily. “I’ve never met a flavor of ice cream I didn’t like.”
“Apparently,” she muttered. “Licorice? Yuck!”
He held open the clinic door for her and she went outside to the parking lot, eyed his vehicle suspiciously. “Where’s Luke?”
“At the last minute, he said he didn’t want to come. He asked us to bring something back for him so he could keep working. And he asked me to bring something back for Deedee, too. And Ranger. He said he’d pay for theirs.”
“My nephew, Luke Caviletti, said he’d pay?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re sure? He’s the kind of gangly kid with red hair.”
But her attempt at humor was meant to cover something else and it failed. Her face crinkled up. She did a funny thing with her nose and squinched her eyes hard.
The facial contortions didn’t help her gain control. He could tell she was making a valiant, valiant effort not to cry again. The tears squeezed out anyway.
He wanted to just shove his hands in his pockets and wait it out. But he was helpless against what he did next.
“Maybe…I…am…having…just…a…little…bit…of…cognitive…impairment.” She was scrubbing at her eyes with that balled up tissue.
He went to her and pulled her against him, wrapped his arms around the small of her back and held on tight.
He could feel the wetness soaking into his shirt. And the warmth oozing out of her body.
And her heart beating below his.
Now, for his own protection and for hers, would be a great time to confirm that emotional changeability was definitely a sign of concussion.
But somehow those words about the proven correlation between concussion and emotions got trapped in his throat and never made it to his mouth.
Somehow his one hand left the small of her back, went to her hair and smoothed it soothingly.
That feeling was back.
Of being alive.
Only standing there in the vet’s office parking lot, with sunshine that felt warmer after the months of rain, with her body pressed into his, Brendan was aware he didn’t feel resentful of waking up, of being alive. Not this time.
Not at all.
“OKAY,” BRENDAN GRANT said, consulting his iPad. “Are you getting headaches?”
“You are spoiling the best milkshake I have ever had.”
“Just answer the question, ma’am,” he said, in a voice that reminded her of a policeman.
Nora leveled him a look that she hoped would get him to stop. He was wrecking a perfect moment. They were sitting at a picnic table across from the Moo Factory, in Hansen Lakeside Park. Iggy had been granted a stay of execution. Luke had actually offered to spend his own money buying another human being—and a kitten—ice cream.
The sun had brought everyone to the park. Children were screaming on nearby playground equipment, some boys were throwing a Frisbee, a young couple was pushing a baby carriage. Nora watched the small family and identified the emotion she was feeling as envy.
“They look like they would provide the perfect home for a three-legged dog,” she said to Brendan when she saw that he had noticed her watching them.
“Now who is spoiling the moment? Can you stop worrying about your animals for one minute and focus on the question? Lack of focus! It’s on this list of symptoms!”
“I seem to be getting a headache right now.” Nora was trying so hard to steel herself against him, but honestly, when he turned on the charm? It was nearly hopeless. That thing he had done with his eyelashes? The big, innocent blink?
Criminal, really.
“I’m being serious!” he insisted, glancing at his iPad and then scowling back at her. As long as he didn’t blink!
“So am I!”
“You have a headache?”
“Yes.”
He scrutinized her, and looked as if he was going to scoop her up and rush her off to the hospital. Really, she didn’t quite know what to do with all this chauvinistic caring.
What if she just surrendered to it? She’d had a bump on the head. She could be forgiven a weak moment.
“Could be brain freeze. From the milkshake,” she told him.
“Ah.” He looked genuinely relieved, but she wasn’t letting him off the hook yet.
“Of course, it could be from being nagged by an exceedingly annoying man!”
His lips twitched a little, with amusement, not annoyance. He didn’t look the least contrite. In fact, he consulted his tablet again. “I’m not being exceedingly annoying. I’m being mildly annoying. For your own good.”
She rolled her eyes and took a long sip of her milkshake. Huckleberry Heaven really was heaven. But to be sitting across the table from a man like this on such a gorgeous summer day, and be asked about your cognitive function?
“Are you having any foggy feelings? Like you can’t concentrate?”
Only when you blink at me.
“Would that be the same as lack of focus?”
He considered this thoughtfully.
“Can I taste your milkshake?” she asked him.
“I’m going to put yes for that one. What does tasting my milkshake have to do with feeling foggy?”
“I’ve