appreciate it,” Bridgette said, standing.
The three of them said goodbye and Bridgette went back to work. Gavin and Violet left the staff lounge.
“So what now?” Gavin said as they walked toward the elevator.
Violet hated to admit just how at loose ends she was. After five years of residency, never having a moment to spare, this barely working at all would get old fast. Even if she was still trying to figure out what the next phase of her life held.
She punched the down button. “As far as work goes, I’m still waiting on the results of Carlson Willoughby’s tests, but otherwise I’m not on call today so—” Violet’s phone vibrated.
When she looked at the screen, there was an email from her sister. Reading it quickly, Violet groaned.
“Problem?” Gavin asked, rocking forward on his toes and hooking his thumbs through the denim loops on either side of his fly.
The elevator arrived and the door opened. It was a little crowded, so they had no choice but to squeeze together to avoid stepping on other passengers.
The warmth of his body sent a new flood of desire through her. “Poppy is going to set me up with a movable wardrobe system, but I’m going to have to drive to a store in San Angelo to pick up the components.”
The elevator opened up on the lobby. “Will you be able to fit it all in your SUV?”
Violet hesitated, unsure.
Gavin gestured gallantly. “My truck is available. As am I.”
Was he hitting on her? Or just being helpful? Hard to tell. “You’d really want to do that on your day off?”
His grin widened. “Sure. If you buy me lunch first.”
She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “I take it you have a place in mind.”
He fell into step beside her as they headed outside into the gloomy autumn day. “I do.”
To ensure they would be able to cart everything back to Laramie, they drove separately and ended up at a popular Mexican restaurant in San Angelo. Violet ordered the enchiladas supreme and he followed suit.
“I didn’t know you were a fan of enchiladas,” she teased as they dug in to their combination plate of chicken, cheese, beef and bean enchiladas, accompanied by a side of Mexican rice.
“I’m trying to expand my horizons.”
“Away from steak fajitas?” Which, she knew, from attending the same hospital staff luncheons for the past five years, happened to be his favorite. Not that she had been noticing or anything.
“In a lot of ways.”
His expression was both deadpan and mysterious. So why was she thinking about kissing him again? And why was he suddenly looking a tad uncomfortable, too?
“So, about those questionnaires we filled out last night...” He swallowed and took a long thirsty drink of iced tea. “Do you really think the age cutoff for applicants should be thirty-five instead of forty?”
Back to Ava and their joint responsibility, which was where their attention should be. Violet met his eyes, her mood suddenly introspective. “You think twenty-five to thirty-five is too narrow a range for prospective parents?”
“I don’t want to go any younger, but I don’t think it would hurt to go a little older. There’s something to be said for maturity.”
She nodded tensely.
His blue gaze roved her face. “You don’t look happy.”
Her appetite fading, Violet put her fork down. “It’s a big decision.”
“We’ll find the right family,” Gavin promised as an intimate silence descended between them.
“You sound so sure.”
He quirked a brow. “You doubt that?”
Violet sat back in her chair. “On an intellectual level I know that, statistically, given how many people there are in this county alone who are ready, willing and able to adopt a newborn child, it should be no problem to find a home for Ava.”
“But?” He finished his iced tea in a single draught.
“Knowing that doesn’t make the prospect of selecting parents for Ava any easier.” It was such an overwhelming responsibility! More so since she’d actually met the precious newborn and held her in her arms.
Gavin touched her hand.
Violet swallowed and pushed on around the sudden parched feeling in her throat. “What if we choose the wrong family? What if there are too many potential adoptive parents who fit the criteria perfectly? How will we choose just one set of parents without feeling like we are somehow being unfair to whoever didn’t get chosen?”
He shrugged, let go of her hand and sat back, too. “How about we cross that bridge when we get to it?”
“You’re right. I know that.” She sighed as the waitress delivered their check.
And, as promised, Violet paid it.
Luckily, they now had things to do to keep them busy.
The wardrobe components, which were supposed to be ready for her, had not yet been pulled off the shelf. So she and Gavin went around the store with a flatbed-style cart, selecting the appropriate shelving and hardware.
“How many clothes do you have?” he asked with a bemused smile.
Aware she’d gotten everything she needed, Violet took a place in one of the checkout lines. Gavin stood behind her. “You saw them last night. All those suitcases, plastic storage containers and duffel bags around my bed.”
He stacked the heavy boxes containing the movable closet onto the end of the conveyer belt. “Ah, yes, the feminine mess of it all.”
Violet set the accessories on top, then turned to him as they waited for the customer in front of them to finish. She propped her hands on her waist. “Excuse me?”
He waggled his brows, teasing, “I’ve got three sisters. I know what it looks like when they have a wardrobe crisis.”
Guilty as charged, unfortunately.
Flushing, Violet added more accessories to the conveyer belt. “I wasn’t having one,” she fibbed, unwilling to admit how the crisis she was having had spread to all areas of her life. “I just lugged the stuff up there so I could lay it all out on my bed and sort through it. Which I started to do this morning—”
“Meaning it’s even more cluttered now than it was last night?”
The young male clerk grinned as he finished ringing them up.
Violet gave an indignant sniff. “I couldn’t find what I wanted to wear to the hospital this morning. And I was in a hurry to get there.” She
