Mitch shook his head. “Lost it all.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks. How’s your family?”
The elevator door opened into the parking garage and Connor fell into step beside Mitch to reply. “All doing well, thanks. Alexis is eleven now, thinks she’s grown. Anthony is five months, and growing like a weed. And Mia somehow juggles her work and motherhood and my crazy schedule without blinking an eye, just like always.”
Mitch chuckled. “Tell her I said hello, will you?”
“I will, thanks.”
Mitch was still thinking about that brief conversation with Connor when he buckled himself into his car a few minutes later. An Arkansas native, Connor had married a local woman, attended college and medical school in the state and had listed the local children’s hospital as his first choice when applying for his residency program. He seemed to have no interest whatsoever in leaving the state where he had spent his entire life, settling happily into marriage, fatherhood and the medical career he had worked hard to attain. Granted, Mitch didn’t know Connor well, but if Connor felt at all constrained by his deeply rooted lifestyle, Mitch had seen no signs of it.
Mitch loved his job. Was close to his mother and sisters. Had really good friends here. So what was missing in his life that made him yearn for something more? A house, wife, kids? He wanted all those things eventually, of course, but he hadn’t really given them much thought until this point. His restlessness had seemed to tug him in other directions—adventures and experiences outside what he had always known here. And now that his rented house was gone, his possessions few, his family all in good health and busy with their own lives, he wasn’t sure what was holding him back from actively looking for someplace new to try.
His thoughts turned to Jacqui, who had been in his mind so much lately. She was certainly different from the women he’d dated before. Was that part of his fascination with her? From what he had gathered, her background was almost diametrically opposite to his, enough to seem exotic to him. Was she right to worry that he was only amusing himself with her while he was at loose ends—if that was, indeed, why she was so hesitant about spending more time with him.
He couldn’t accept that unrealistic excuse she’d given about not wanting to play Cinderella to his Prince Charming. Seriously, who thought that way these days? He had never paid attention to social class distinctions, and even if he did, it wasn’t as if he came from a high-brow background. His dad had been a sci-fi-loving physics professor at a state university, his mom was an accountant—people who worked hard at their jobs to pay the bills and support their families. The fact that all three of their offspring had attended medical school was mostly coincidence—or maybe the younger two had been influenced by the older sibling’s choice. Meagan had teasingly claimed they were always copying her.
As far as Mitch was concerned, it was just a job—a good job, sure, one that required a lot of training and paid well afterward, but still simply the career he had chosen. Jacqui ran his sister’s household, which required skills plenty of people lacked. He couldn’t see why their choice of vocations should have anything to do with their being friends. Maybe more than friends.
But if Jacqui was fretting about that foolish quibble, then it looked as though it was up to him to convince her differently. There might be other reasons why a flirtation—or more—between them wouldn’t work, but he wasn’t going to let anything as superficial as tax brackets keep them from finding out for sure. Not if he could help it anyway.
One thing about Mitch Baker, the guy was certainly persuasive. Jacqui wasn’t sure how he’d talked her into an outing Sunday evening, but she found herself sitting beside him in a movie theater, sharing a tub of popcorn and watching an action film play on the giant screen. Maybe she’d accepted because it was less awkward being out in public with him than alone in the house. It was hard to be tense and formal with popcorn grease on their fingers and oversize 3-D glasses perched on their noses.
Watching Mitch laughing at a groan-worthy pun from one of the main characters, tossing popcorn kernels in his mouth and peering through the plastic lenses, it was hard to imagine him in an operating room, gowned and gloved and barking orders while piecing together a child’s shattered bones. She pushed that image out of her mind immediately. This Mitch, the one in jeans and silly glasses, was someone with whom she could relax, have fun, flirt a little. The other Mitch—well, she didn’t even know him.
It wasn’t that she didn’t think herself good enough to date a doctor, she assured herself. As battered as it had been, her self-esteem wasn’t quite that low. The problem was that she didn’t have enough in common with that other Mitch—the one with advanced degrees and enough money to look at houses in some of the nicest neighborhoods. The Mitch who could look at those houses and feel no excitement at the thought of owning one and nesting contentedly into it.
He laughed again at an on-screen antic and grinned at her to share the joke. He looked so cute and silly in the big glasses that she had to smile back. There was no reason she couldn’t enjoy spending a few hours with this Mitch. It wasn’t as if she’d had all that many dates lately—not that this was a date, exactly, she corrected herself quickly. Still, she figured it was good for her to keep her socializing skills from getting too rusty.
She reached for another handful of popcorn.
Of course, every date had to end. In her experience, they most often ended at the door. It was awkward enough dealing with the good-night kiss decision after an ordinary first date. It felt even more strange having Mitch follow her inside, knowing they would be sharing breakfast—and not because she had invited him to stay.
Not that this evening had been a real date, of course.
“How about some tea?” Mitch asked when they walked inside the house. “You like to drink tea at night, right?”
“Yes, I do,” she agreed. “I’ll make some.”
“I’ll do it,” he corrected her. “I think it’s my turn to make the tea. I’ve watched you use that fancy boiling-water dispenser at the sink, and I know where you store the teas, so I can manage.”
A little flustered by the offer, she stammered, “I, uh—”
“Chamomile, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“It’ll be ready in just a few minutes.”
She blinked after him as he headed for the kitchen. Her kitchen, she thought with a slight frown. Well, not really, but there was no denying she was a bit proprietary about it. She heard a muted crash from that direction and she winced. She’d fed Waldo before leaving that evening, but she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to wander casually through the kitchen to check on him—and a few other things.
She forced herself to remain in the living room instead. To give her hands something to do, she pulled out her knitting. She was working on a new pattern, a pretty lacework shawl with a delicate scalloped edge. She’d chosen a fine, shell-pink yarn, and the project was turning out nicer than she had even expected. She usually made heavier scarves and shawls, fashioned more for warmth and comfort than delicacy.
Mitch returned to the room with a steaming cup of tea in each hand, a frown of concentration on his face as he made an effort not to spill them. “That’s a pretty thing you’re making. What is it?”
She set the project aside to reach for her tea. “A shawl.”