“They left about half an hour ago,” Corinne told him.
Chad quashed his disappointment. There was no reason for them to hang out in the hospital just because he’d enjoyed talking to Mary Alice. Her cousin was better off resting in a bed at home. “Did Finn look okay when she left?”
“Certainly, better than when she came in. Moving under her own steam to the car.”
“Good.” He moved to update some notes on the spiral fracture patient.
“Mary Alice left her scarf,” Corinne said, with a significant look.
“Keep it at the desk here, in case she comes back to get it.” No doubt it was the last thing she was concerned about after tonight.
“And if she doesn’t realize it’s missing?”
He held in the grin she was trying to provoke. “I expect somebody can see that it finds its way back to her.”
Chapter 2
MARY ALICE STILL HADN’T retrieved her scarf by Saturday evening. She might be coping with Finn’s hangover or she might simply have been staying inside to avoid the filthy weather. Or maybe she hadn’t realized she’d left it behind. Either way, Chad figured he’d make a personal delivery to return the thing. A bold move. Maybe too bold. But he was a man who went after what he wanted, and he told himself it was the neighborly thing to do, and people in Wishful were all about being neighborly. Sure, she didn’t live by him, but in a town of a little over five thousand people, nobody lived far.
He stood on the front porch of her little bungalow and rang the doorbell, the wind and icy rain lashing at his back. Now that he was here, he wondered what he was going to say. He hadn’t much thought past wanting to talk to her again, to see if the sense of connection he’d felt last night was an actual thing or a product of finding someone else who’d been through a situation similar to his. He admired the hell out of Mary Alice’s attitude about the whole thing, and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. So here he was.
The door swung open to reveal Mary Alice, barefoot, in yoga pants and an oversized Ole Miss sweatshirt. Her fair hair was piled in some kind of messy knot that he found unreasonably sexy. Probably because it looked like she’d rolled out of bed. He didn’t want to think about how long it had been since he’d rolled into or out of bed with a woman.
“Dr. Phillips.”
When in doubt, smile. “Chad,” he corrected. “Unless I’m actually at the hospital, Dr. Phillips makes me think of my dad.”
She offered a confused smile of her own. “Do you normally make house calls?”
He laughed a little. “No. You weren’t my patient, and that would be weird. I just wanted to bring this by.” Reaching into his coat, he pulled out the scarf. “You left it at the hospital last night.”
“Oh! I wondered where I’d left it. Thank you
.” She accepted the scarf, then frowned. “How did you know where I live?”
“Margot told me.” And if she’d thought it odd that he’d called her asking, she’d kept it to herself.
The wind kicked up, gusting past him to make her shiver and clutch the scarf to her chest. “You want to come in for a cup of coffee or something? It’s freezing out.”
“That’d be great, if it’s not too much trouble.”
She stepped back, opening the door wider so he could step past her. “It seems the least I can do as thanks for personally delivering my scarf.”
He tugged off his beanie and looked around. The entryway opened on the left into a comfortable living room, with the Christmas tree set up in the front window and colorful pillows and throws tossed over the chairs and sofa. To the right was the dining room, currently set with placemats, napkins, and a vibrant red poinsettia. Beyond that, he could just see the kitchen. The whole place just felt cozy, like there ought to be fresh cookies baking, while Bing Crosby crooned from the stereo.
“Nice place.”
“Thanks. It’s tiny, but it’s mine.”
He followed her to the kitchen, giving in to the vibe of the place and making himself at home at her table, despite the stacks of office supplies and paperwork scattered across its surface. He hung his wet coat on the back of a chair. “Whatcha working on?”
She glanced over, then popped a K-cup into the machine on the counter and pressed brew. “Oh, I’m coordinating the details for the Fountain of Hope program.”
“And what is that, exactly?”
“It’s a Christmas charity for needy children in the community.” She kicked back, resting her elbows against the counter, completely at ease in her space. Chad liked that she hadn’t flipped out at his unexpected visit and worried about whether the house was picked up or not or whether she was wearing makeup. Some women he knew insisted on being dressed to the nines and fully made up before stepping outside to get the paper in the morning. Mary Alice didn’t need makeup or fancy clothes to be appealing. Her fresh-faced enthusiasm as she spoke was like a breath of fresh air. And the way the position made the sweatshirt stretch across her breasts was tempting all by itself. There was a very nice body under all that baggy clothing.
“Part toy drive, part backpack program, part necessities. There are usually several businesses around town that host donation stations. They put up Christmas trees with printed coins all over them. Each coin represents a particular child. It has the age and gender of the child, along with a list of needs and a few wants. So people can come adopt a child, shop for them, then return the donations to one of those same businesses. Then we wrap and deliver them a few days before Christmas.”