“I’m not living with her.”
“Are you sure about that? Because last time I called by your apartment she had her things in the room next to yours. And she was mopping your fevered brow and looking like she gave a damn whether you lived or died.”
“She was dog sitting.”
“Right. Now you mention it, I remember seeing a dog.” Susan folded her arms. “Cute little black-and-white spaniel. But you seemed to be the one getting all the attention.”
“I was sick.”
“Yeah, well you won’t find me arguing with that.”
“She moved out a week ago.”
“That is a damn shame.” She leaned toward him. “Listen carefully, Dr. Hot, because I’m about to tell you something for free. Any woman who doesn’t want to kill a man when he’s sick is a keeper.”
“Maybe she did want to kill me. Can we maybe talk about something—”
“No. We’re talking about this. Why did she move out?”
“Because my sister came and collected Madi.”
“Madi?” Susan frowned. “Who the hell is Madi? Oh, you mean the dog?”
“Do not call her ‘the dog’ in front of Harriet,” Ethan muttered and Susan grinned.
“She really has whipped you into shape. So the dog left, and you let Harriet leave too.”
“I’ve told you—she was there as dog sitter. Without a dog to sit with, there wasn’t much of a reason for her to stay.”
“And you couldn’t think of a reason? What has happened to your brain?”
“My brain is good, thank you. She has her own home. Her own life.”
Susan shook her head. “Your lack of creativity is depressing. Have you called her since she moved out?”
“Why would I call her?” He’d intended to take her on a date, but then he’d gone down with the flu. And it wouldn’t have been a real date anyway. He’d been offering to do her a favor, that was all. Help her out, to make up for all the help she’d given him.
He ignored the small side of him that said he was lying to himself. That dinner with Harriet would have been a really good way to spend an evening.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t eaten dinner with her before. They’d eaten together most nights when he was home in time. Admittedly it had been casual, sitting at the kitchen island, chatting about what had happened during their day. No romantic lighting or dressing up. But he’d enjoyed it. In fact he’d enjoyed being with Harriet more than he could remember being with anyone in a long time.
There was something calming about her.
“To say thank you, to check how she’s doing, to ask her to dinner—I don’t know. You’re the man with the reputation with women, although clearly that reputation is not well deserved if you let her get away from you.”
“Excuse me?”
“Gorgeous girl, right there in your apartment, mopping your fevered brow, and you didn’t ravish her?”
“Ravish? What sort of word is ravish? It might have escaped your notice but I had trouble dragging myself to the bathroom for the first forty-eight hours. Ravishing anyone was beyond my capabilities.” But he’d thought about it.
“Feeble,” Susan muttered, visibly disgusted with his lack of motivation. “I really liked her, Ethan. I liked Alison, but the two of you together were just so wrong it was painful to watch. Not that I’m an expert, but if everyone on the planet had died of a hideous plague and you were the only two left, I would have suggested you both occupy different continents. You and Alison used to stand there comparing schedules. It made my unromantic heart break watching you. Now Harriet—” she lingered over the name “—she’s totally different. I don’t have many girlfriends. Don’t have the time but if I had one, I’d pick someone like Harriet. Fun, loyal, kind, great cook. And this is the part I don’t get—she moves into your house, takes care of your dog, generally improves your quality of life and then you wave her goodbye without even giving her the kiss of life?”
“She left my apartment conscious and breathing. She didn’t need the kiss of life.”
“For a smart guy, you’re stupid when it comes to women.”
“Knowing I’m not the right guy for her doesn’t make me stupid.”