“Oh.” Missy looked startled. “But your father just sends them to me at home.”
Where they were ignored. “Things have changed.” She moved out of the treatment room toward the front desk, where she’d hoped to have a receptionist by now, except for the lack of money with which to pay one.
“Got stung by a bee on the jobsite,” a twentysomething guy said to her from the front door, waving a hand supported by a wrist in a cast. “I can’t get the stinger out. The boss wanted me to go to South Shore, but I didn’t have enough gas.”
“Oh, the doctor’s not in,” Missy told him. “He’s still recouping.”
“Bummer.”
“The doctor is in,” Emma corrected, resisting the urge to thunk her head down on the counter. “Come on in. Please. I can help you.”
The would-be patient swiveled his head to Missy for reassurance.
Missy shrugged as if to say It’s your risk.
Emma ground her back teeth to powder and pointed to the guy’s cast. “What happened there?”
“Oh, I fell hiking up the summit this past weekend. Tripped over my own laces and broke my wrist.”
The summit was only three miles from here. A quick five minute ride, tops. “Where did you get it cast?”
“South Shore.”
Lake Tahoe, which was at least forty-five minutes away at the best of times. She nearly did thunk her head down at that.
“I needed a doctor,” he said.
“I am a doctor.”
“Okay, cool. You remove stingers?”
Chapter 6
That night, Emma risked driving the roads out to her father’s cabin again under the guise of bringing him another casserole, hoping for a sign that her torture would be coming to an end.
He accepted the casserole, but still couldn’t produce his medical records—shocker.
On the way home, there was a wind that knocked the truck around some, and she found herself holding her breath all the way back. By the time she got into town, she needed chocolate.
Lots of chocolate.
She parked at Wishful’s one and only grocery store in desperate search of a sugar rush. She ran into Missy in the dairy aisle and Annie in the cereal aisle.
Small town living.
She was deciding between Time and Scientific Weekly when she felt the odd tingle of awareness race down her back and settle into her good spots.
Oh, boy.
Even without looking, she knew what that meant. Turning, she locked gazes with Stone, trying to reconcile the laid-back guy she thought she’d figured out with the guy Missy had talked about.
He was propping up a vitamin display with his shoulder—which he did quite nicely, she noted, in his loose cargoes and plain T-shirt, iPod ear-pieces hanging around his neck. He didn’t move, doing his best to perpetuate that lazy guy image he seemed to enjoy so much.
“Doc.”
“Stone.”
He smiled, slow as a Cheshire cat, and lifted his hand, revealing the bottle of Advil he held. “Getting some more of that good vitamin A.”
“You’re still hurting?” she asked while trying to decide who he was—mountain bum, or saint. Neither, she decided, but the jury was still out on who he might really be.
Strangely enough, her heart was suddenly racing as if she’d run down the aisles. An odd physical reaction to a patient.
Except not just a patient.
Funny how her mother’s voice turned up in her head at the least expected times. Like now.
He’s a mountain hottie, darling. Ignore mountain hotties. They’ll snag your heart, and then stomp on it.
Oh, for God’s sake. She focused on Stone. Not exactly a hardship. “How are you feeling?” she asked since he hadn’t answered her question.
“Better. I’ve been wanting to thank you.”
“For?”
“First for the medical care.”
“No problem.”
“And second for helping out with Lilah.”
“Again, no problem.”
“And third—and possibly most importantly, for not beating me with your bat.”
She felt a smile tug at her mouth. “You got lucky.” She moved toward the next aisle—fruits and veggies, dammit, but she couldn’t just grab a fistful of candy bars right in front of him. So she grabbed some grapes even though she didn’t like grapes, and dropped them in her cart.
Shifting a little closer, he reached for the bag dispenser, just over her head, making her hyperaware of his big body and the fact that he smelled amazing.
A woman came down the aisle with four young kids, each of them screaming and yelling and beating each other with light sabers from the toy aisle. The woman started to pass by them with an apologetic smile, but stopped at the sight of Stone. “Hey, you,” she said with familiarity. “I’ve been wanting to thank you for the bag of t-shirts, the kids loved them.”
Stone smiled easily, picking up one of the boys before he could climb the banana display, setting him down by his mother. “No problem, glad you could use them. Alice, this is—”
“Doctor Sinclair,” Alice said with a much more formal tone than she’d used with Stone. “I’ve heard about you. How’s your wonderful father doing?”
“Better, thank you,” Emma said, hoping to God that was actually true.
“Good.” With one last sweet smile for Stone, Alice moved on, surrounded by chaos.
“We went to school together,” Stone told Emma, once again following her as she turned into the next aisle. The woman shelving soups sent Stone a hopeful smile combining a sultry invitation and a knowing satisfaction. “Hi there, Stone.”