Brooke offered when he abruptly edited himself.
“I would have tried for ‘less dangerous.’”
“Very diplomatic. But I’ve worn heels since I was in junior high. Couldn’t wait for my first pair. When you’re practically the runt in the entire school, you don’t mind taking a few risks to fit in better.”
Gage suspected that she would always stand out regardless, and guessed that any grief she took was more about jealousy than her petite size. “I guess in your male-dominated profession, you liked being taller because the guys tried to make you feel insecure even without the height disadvantage?” When she offered a one-shouldered shrug that suggested it was a moot point, he added, “Well, with or without the extra inches, I think you’re—”
“I really have to go.”
“Adorable.” Gage grinned as she cast a self-conscious look at the pickup truck now turning into the parking lot as though the driver could read lips. “Sue me. I’ve seen you smile. You have dimples that should be seen—” and kissed frequently “—and when you’re not stressing over your aunt, the shop or Humphrey, those brown eyes make me feel like a kid facing his first fudge-caramel sundae.”
“Oh, Lord.” Pressing her lips together to repress a smile, Brooke quickly climbed into her BMW. “Have a good day, Doc.”
“Gage. Give me that at least. You know I’m going to go back inside to deal with all kinds of abuse from those guys.” He nodded his head toward the windows where everyone was unabashedly watching.
She keyed the ignition, and, once the engine sprang to life, Brooke put the sports car into Reverse. Just after she shifted into Forward, she wiggled her fingers at him and drove away.
Waving to Carter Spears as Spears drove around to the back where he would be picking up the family pet—a potbellied pig—that had survived eating one of Carter’s leather work gloves, Gage returned inside. After pausing at the surreal silence that greeted him, he suddenly faced five sets of wiggling fingers waving at him.
Knowing it would be worse if he said anything, he just nodded his acceptance of their ribbing. In his opinion, he’d made progress—minimal, but in the right direction. Brooke liked him. More than she wanted to. He could feed off that all day.
Pete Ogilvie started the Greek chorus of commentary. “So that’s the way of things, eh? You’d better work fast because you’ve got your sights on a city girl, my friend. She’s not going to hang around these parts a day longer than she has to.”
“My back hurts just thinking about all the bending you’ll have to do to kiss the little thing,” Stan Walsh groused.
Jerry and Warren hooted and laughed, and Jerry said, “Listen to him. The guy on the most medications is having sympathy pains over your love life, Doc.”
“My money is on you, son,” Warren said, only to scowl at Jerry. “What are you trying to do, get us thrown out of here, too?”
“What do you think, Humph?” Gage asked, crouching to give the basset hound another affectionate rubbing. The dog was visibly curious as to what was going on. “You’re one of the guys now. We have to support each other.”
As though understanding, the dog rolled on to his back and offered his belly for scratching.
“That’s exactly what I think.” Chuckling, Gage obliged the dog. “Everybody has his—or her—soft spot. It’ll be your job to help me find hers.”
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