“Let me just get this ironed for you and that should dry it the rest of the way.”

Before he could answer, she hurried down the hall toward the laundry room.

Travis watched Emma go, and shook his head. It had been so easy to want to pick up where he’d left off with her. He’d always felt comfortable around her. Their high school romance had blossomed from a deep friendship—a friendship he realized he wanted again.

Take it easy. Don’t go wishin’ you could rope the wind.

Seeing his dress shirt in her hands reminded him he kinda belonged to someone else. Travis tried to conjure up a mental picture of Lucy, but found it was eclipsed by a lady with soft blonde hair and softer blue eyes. He tilted back his head and blew out a sigh.

Emma was right. It was late—too late for him to get involved with her now. She had a couple of little girls to think of and was still probably heart-sore from her recent breakup. She needed him only for what he could offer medically. Somehow the logic failed to cheer him.

A few moments later, Emma emerged with the freshly-ironed shirt, her expression guarded.

****

Lucy stared out into the night as her friend Patty drove along the road. The staccato of her fingertips on the dashboard matched the restless tapping of her sandaled feet. Hitting a few parties with her friend to forget her suspicions hadn’t helped.

For some reason Lucy didn’t buy Travis’s excuse of a medical emergency. Of course when she married him, she’d have to get used to that—unless she could convince him to come work in her father’s big clinic in Houston. There, he’d have a lighter workload and more of a chance for advancement. In Galveston, he’d remain the kind of doctor clingy people would call for every little thing. She scowled into the darkness.