But I’m lonely and alone. I think I might want what Grady and Emily have, but I don’t really understand it.
She was content here in Amesport, and she had friends for the first time in her life. She was learning to talk about small things that were important to the people in the community instead of constantly trying to analyze major scientific debates. Surprisingly, she found talking to normal people incredibly fascinating and satisfying. Sometimes talking about emotions was a lot more interesting than scientific theories. It was certainly more educational, because she knew next to nothing about mental states except for loneliness and the sorrow she saw every day as a doctor. Right now her lack of understanding was frustrating because it made it even harder to quite get a fix on what was happening with the handsome Detective Sinclair.
Somehow, she’d imagined that Dante Sinclair would share some similarities with Grady, but after their brief, tumultuous meeting, she couldn’t find very many. They shared the same dark hair and some facial features, and they were both large, very well-built men. But while Grady was mostly a brilliant, quiet computer geek with a generous heart, Dante was surly and aggressive. Granted, the guy had just been through a horrific experience, but Dante nearly vibrated with a stubborn belligerence that Sarah was fairly positive was an inherent part of his personality. Maybe in better times he wasn’t quite so surly, but she was willing to bet he could be obstinate and unyielding, even when he wasn’t stressed.
He’s a homicide detective in Los Angeles, in the district with the highest rate of annual murders. Maybe it’s that bullheadedness that keeps him alive.
It made sense. Obviously, Dante and Grady had lived completely different adult lives. They were bound to have formed different personalities, different ways of dealing with things.
She’d believed Dante when he said he hadn’t meant for her to get hurt. Remorse had flashed in those gorgeous hazel eyes of his for just a moment when she’d been ready to walk out the door. Dante Sinclair was angry at the world right now for taking away his partner and friend. She had just happened to be standing close to him when he snapped.
Sarah sighed, wishing there had been more she could have done to help Dante. He was her patient, Emily’s brother-in-law, and Grady’s brother. Hopefully, his family could help him emotionally more than she could.
She took a long bath, careful to protect her bandaged foot, and finished reading a romance novel Emily had recommended to her. Romance novels had recently become an obsession for her. So much emotion, and so much sex. She read the stories of love and desire with a fascination that she’d never experienced with any other books. Of course, they were fiction, but she wondered if it was even possible to feel that depth of emotion for a man. And the sex? Well, it certainly wasn’t realistic in her experience, which she had to admit was so sparse it was almost nonexistent. But for some unknown reason, she was addicted to reading about relationships that she couldn’t quite believe were even possible. As a doctor, she could admit that some parts of a sexual relationship could be pleasurable—probably more for a man than a woman because of anatomical differences. Still, women could definitely find some kind of pleasure with the right knowledgeable lover, she supposed.
I had sex with a med student. I would think he should have known how to do things properly. It wasn’t pleasant in any way. Maybe I’m just not a sexual person.
The doorbell rang just as she’d walked out of the bedroom and was about to pop a dinner into the microwave. After shoving the low-calorie meal back into the freezer in case it was a medical emergency, she brushed her damp hands on her jeans and went to answer the door with Coco at her heels.
She gaped as she saw Dante Sinclair standing in front of her, a large white bag in his hand and a hesitant grin on his face. Dressed casually in jeans and a dark T-shirt, the man still looked big and dangerous.
“Peace offering,” he informed her in a husky voice, jiggling the bag up in front of his face. “Lobster rolls.”
It was twilight, and the rain was still falling in a light mist. He looked damp and so did the bag he was holding. Sarah grabbed the sack and pulled him through the door.
“You can’t be out yet. Are you crazy?” Dante Sinclair needed to be resting, warm and snug in his own home. He was barely out of the hospital.
Dante shrugged. “I’ve been called worse. I wanted to see if you were okay. Those pills work. But they make me feel a little weird.” He closed the door before asking with a scowl on his face, “Should you really be standing on those cut feet?”
Sarah blinked at him, still trying to figure out why he was even out of the house. “The cuts are fairly superficial. Detective Sinclair, you need to be resting. The pills make you feel strange because you’re supposed to be home in bed sleeping after you take them.”
“I was worried,” he confessed hesitantly.
Sarah eyed him warily, happy that he’d finally taken the pills but wondering if he wasn’t just a little high. “I think you’re stoned, Detective Sinclair.” She took the bag of lobster rolls to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “Sit down.” Her house was small, and she could still see him over the breakfast bar as she set her precious cargo down on the countertop. “How did you know I liked lobster rolls?”
“Call me Dante. And finding out what you liked wasn’t exactly difficult detective work. I called Grady and Emily.” He moved up to the breakfast bar, took a seat on one of the stools, and propped his elbows on the counter, staring at her unnervingly.