Page 65 of Quinton's Quest

She offered a smile. “The plan is to take tomorrow off. That’ll help.”

That hardly sounded fair, given she’d been here every time I’d come in. I’d sauntered in a couple of times instead of heading home alone with takeout. The food wasn’t the healthiest, but I ensured I worked out the next morning before work. “I hope you get a break. Can I get the barbecue chicken breast?”

“Absolutely.” She scribbled on her notepad.

“I’ll have the Montreal smoked sandwich.” Quinton grinned. “Extra mustard. Super spicy.”

“You got it. Water okay?”

“I’ll take a decaf as well, when you get a chance.” Although decaf was vile, staying up late because of insomnia due to caffeine was worse.

“Sure thing.” Sarabeth grabbed our menus and headed toward the kitchen.

“I’ll leave her an extra-large tip.” Clearly she deserved an extra something.

Quinton offered what I assumed was a grateful smile. Sometimes he was hard to read—other times, he was an open book.

“So, what you thought you heard—”

“Oh my God.” A squeal came from behind me. I pivoted to see two men standing with huge grins on their faces.

Quinton leapt to his feet—vibrating with excitement. He launched himself into the arms of the guy with dark-blond hair and rather impressive muscles.

I blinked as a memory stirred. Quickly, I set my gaze on the man beyond the hugging couple. I rose. “Everett.” I cleared my throat. “You’re looking exceptionally well.”

“Since you saw me three weeks ago? You bet.” He extended his hand. “Good to see you, Doc.”

Just over a month ago, this man had been on my table in New Westminster. Fighting for his life.

Rayne let go of Quinton and embraced me. “You’re still my hero.”

The men had been boyfriends at the time. Now they were fiancés—having gotten engaged at Quinton’s Valentine’s party. Shindig? Bash? I couldn’t remember.

“Why don’t you join us?” Rayne gestured to the booth across from where Quinton and I sat. While we sat in a two-seater, the men were sliding into a six-seater.

“Yes, let’s join them.” Quinton grabbed our glasses and put them on the table as Everett and Rayne slid in. His placement of the glasses put me sitting next to the exuberant Rayne and across from my patient.

Former patient. You discharged him after giving him permission to resume his sex life.

Awkward.

Since arguing would make me look petty—and I wasn’t yet willing to admit I wanted Quinton all to myself—I grabbed my coat and slid onto the bench next to Rayne.

Who promptly put his arm around me. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yes. Fancy that.” Quinton’s gaze passed around the table to the three of us. “I didn’t realize Everett was your patient.” His gaze settled on me. “Well done.”

I shrugged. “The job.”

“Damn fine one.” Rayne squeezed me.

I hadn’t given him permission to be so…familiar.Something tells me he might not respect that anyway. And besides, he’s not hurting me. Just…overwhelming.I cleared my throat. “I understand congratulations are in order.” I first nodded to Everett, then turned to Rayne. His stunning tawny-brown eyes always struck me. Almost amber in color and absolutely stunning.

“Can you believe he agreed to marry me?” Rayne tipped his chin up. For what reason, I wasn’t certain.

“You are definitely an interesting couple.” I attempted to keep my dry tone to a minimum.

Everett was a lawyer. Very staid, proper, and mostly willing to follow medical advice.