From Exes To Expecting. Laurel Greer
glanced at the clock on the wall of the Sutter Creek Medical Clinic’s staff lounge. Five-oh-one. Yup, skedaddle time. After working a series of six-day weeks, her body ached for the cushy lounge chair on her lakeside deck. Getting to start her long weekend while the late-May sun still had heat left in it was worth the faux pas of creeping out without saying goodbye. She threw her leather flats into her messenger bag and slid on her flip-flops.
The door to the lounge creaked behind her. Her stomach sank and she stared into her locker, not wanting to turn around. If it was one of the nurses coming to nab her to treat another patient, she’d—
“Lauren. Glad I caught you before you left. Do you have a minute?”
Damn it. The longer she lingered, the higher the chance of getting asked to cover drop-ins for an extra hour or two. But no way could she slough off a conversation with the man who held the future of her career in his hand. Squeezing her eyes shut for a second, she forced a smile and faced her boss. “Hi, Frank.”
The fluorescent lights of the staff lounge yellowed Frank Martin’s gunmetal-gray hair as he took a seat on one of the couches arranged into a conversation pit. “Quitting time?”
Lauren nodded and pulled off her lab coat. “Yeah. Andrew’s still very understaffed at work, so I’m picking up some slack for him this weekend. He’s got his bachelor party, so he’s asked me to cover some zip-line tours, and I’m helping his fiancée with some wedding stuff.” As the Director of Safety and Risk Management and the head of summer operations for their family’s Montana ski resort, her older brother did more than his fair share of boosting their bottom line. Lauren pitched in where she could despite the clinic’s tendency to consume her waking hours. Once her summer holidays started in six weeks, she’d be subbing for her brother, letting him get away on his honeymoon. “Pretty sure I won’t get a moment to myself for most of the weekend. Though I’m hoping for a few hours to myself tonight. My dock is calling me.”
His mouth curved in understanding. “Well, I won’t keep you. But I wanted to make sure you got the partnership papers from your lawyer.”
Those cursed papers sat on her kitchen table, mocking her every morning as she ate her oatmeal and berries. Mocking her commitment to follow in her mother’s footsteps. Dampness bloomed on her palms. She’d wanted to have a practice in her tiny hometown since she was fourteen. Getting to buy in to the clinic her mother had founded was nothing less than her childhood dream. So why am I having so much trouble putting my signature on the contract?
She mentally flicked away the doubt and nodded at her boss. “Yeah, but I’ve run into a glitch getting the funds released from my grandparents’ trust. My lawyer’s busy arguing with their lawyers.” She gripped the strap of her bag and took a centering breath. Ugh, what she’d do to have her vacation starting today. Both the wedding and working for Wild Life Adventures would be a welcome change of scenery. She would get outside for a few weeks and come back to the clinic refreshed and ready to make her plan a reality.
“Did your lawyer indicate how long it would take to fix the problem?” Concern edged Frank’s words.
“She wasn’t specific, no. I’m sure it’ll be dealt with by the time I’m back from my holidays in July.”
“That’s two months from now.”
Swallowing her nerves, she nodded. “It’s not affecting the work I can do, though. So I’m hoping the delay isn’t a deal breaker.”
“No. Nothing you can do about banking complications.” He drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time, Lauren. Having a Dawson as a partner again is going to fill a void. You’ll be a great permanent addition to the clinic.”
Permanent.
Normally a calming concept, but Lauren’s heart started to thud as if she were sprinting. She inhaled. Her mother had been proud of her calling. And Lauren was nothing if not a mirror of her mother.
She’d almost given up on their dream once. Never again. She could do this. Was meant for it.
Her heartbeat slowed, but the burn in her stomach refused to subside.
One of the nurses poked her head into the lounge. “Dr. Dawson? Can you take one more patient before you leave? Sutures. Exam room two.”
Son of a—Keeping her curse from spilling out, Lauren nodded to the nurse. She returned her satchel to her locker and shrugged back into her lab coat. “Count me there.”
Frank touched his brow in a playful salute. “We’ll talk later, Lauren. See you Tuesday.”
“Have a good Memorial Day.” Lauren changed back into her flats, straightened her khaki capris and rushed out of the lounge to her patient. Stupid long weekends and the abrasions and lacerations that came along with them. She picked the clipboard out of the Lucite holder and glanced at the patient file.
Her already complaining gut lurched and the font blurred on the page.
No. N-fricking-O.
Feet frozen two feet from the door, out of view from the patient inside, she stared through the door frame. Only the patient’s legs were visible, golden-tan skin over defined calf muscles. Muddy biking footprints marked up the white linoleum. A two-inch-thick black tattoo ringed one ankle. At first glance, it looked like a series of interwoven spirals, but she knew closer study would reveal the second and third stanzas of Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night. Even marred by a fresh, index-card-size scrape, she’d recognize Tavish Fitzgerald’s legs anywhere. Difficult not to, given the nights she’d spent sliding her toes along those hard calves while he’d driven her out of her mind with ecstasy.
She leaned against the hallway wall and swallowed. He must be in town for her brother’s bachelor party. So much for him not coming home until a day or two before the wedding. The wedding where Lauren would have to once again stare at Tavish across the aisle. But as the maid of honor this time.
Not the bride.
Lauren’s brother was marrying Tavish’s sister on the Fourth of July weekend, and Lauren was thrilled to be getting a sister-in-law. She just didn’t want to have to see her ex-husband in the process.
Telling herself to get a Godzilla-size grip, she stuck the clipboard between her knees and took the time to redo her ponytail. After a quick wipe under her eyes to check for afternoon mascara remnants, she clutched her clipboard between both hands, threw back her shoulders and marched through the doorway.
A millisecond after she met Tavish’s gaze, her bravado tumbled into a heap around her feet. He regarded her with a simmering look as he lounged in the patient’s chair next to the examination table. His violet-blue irises pierced through her layers of preservation.
Eyes that color were wasted on a man. Ditto his thick, dark eyelashes and the sun-streaked, tawny hair he never bothered to keep tidy. A navy bandanna, rolled to a hand-width and tied around his forehead, kept the windblown strands from falling in his face. He wore a technical shirt and baggy cargo shorts over black Lycra bike shorts. It was enough to make a woman’s heart stop.
But no, Lauren’s pulse went into overdrive, thumping loud enough she’d have worried he could hear it except she knew was it impossible. Shrinking under his silent observation, she forced herself to snap into medical mode.
“You did a number on your leg,” she said.
Shrugging, he shot her a half smile. “An unruly pine.”
Judging by the scrape on his left cheek, the rip in the short sleeve of his shirt and the bandage on his arm, the tree reigned victorious. His chart noted that he needed stitches for a laceration already dressed by one of the mountain first-aid attendants, but her hands were shaking so badly she didn’t trust herself to pick up a needle quite yet, no matter how quickly she wanted him out the door.
“Tree, one, you, zero?” She forced out the joke.
“Yeah. Blew a tire. Landed in a snowberry bush, thankfully. Could have been worse.