by Score, Lucy
“So you do know my name,” he teased.
The eyebrow she arched at him was flippant.
“This your first in-flight intubation?” he asked. She seemed more comfortable talking medicine and calls than the personal. He’d use it to his advantage…when he had more energy.
“Third,” she said, leaning back and draping an arm over the back of the booth.
“Not here though,” he guessed. “I’d remember seeing you on-scene.”
“New in town,” she said.
He grinned and waited a beat or two while she refused to divulge more.
“Military before this for a few years,” she said, finally giving in.
He pointed at her National Guard t-shirt. “So I guessed.”
“Devastatingly handsome and wildly astute,” she said, fluttering her lashes.
Their food arrived, Linc’s plates taking up most of the acreage of the table, and they dove in.
He was still tired. He still hurt. But the food, the company, helped.
When the waitress slapped the check down on the table, Linc’s good hand got there first. “This is our first date. I’m paying.”
“No offense, but this is a terrible first date. You smell like smoke and antiseptic.”
“Aphrodisiacs for first responders,” he insisted.
“I’ll let you pay but only as reimbursement for the chauffeur routine.”
“I’ll take what I can get.”
She waited patiently while he fished out cash with one hand.
“Okay, Hotshot. Lead the way,” Dreamy said, sliding out of the booth.
Linc played tour guide on the way into Benevolence, pointing out the high school, the fire station, the little downtown that was much the same as it had been since he’d been born here. Change wasn’t a bad thing. But there was something comforting about the sameness of his hometown.
It was going dark now, and the crickets and peepers were making the most of August’s last hurrah.
While he was looking forward to his dog, his bed, he wasn’t ready for his time with the dreamy doctor to come to an end.
“Turn right here.” He pointed at the next road sign. “Third one on the left.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered under her breath.
“What? You’ve never seen an incredibly good-looking man live in a renovated gas station?” he teased.
“Something like that,” she said wryly. It made him want to be in on the private joke. “Looks like someone’s excited to see you.” She pointed to the big front window.
Sunshine, his yellow lab disaster, scrabbled at the glass, frantic with excitement.
“Separation anxiety. Usually she’s with someone, but with the call today, a rookie brought her back. That, by the way, is my girl,” he said as Sunshine’s front paws got tangled up in the heavy curtains. There was a muffled crash as curtains and rod rained down. Undaunted, Sunshine danced to the door and back to the window.
“Huh. Guess I was right when I pictured you with a high-maintenance blonde,” she quipped.
Yeah. He was definitely looking forward to seeing her again. “Wanna come in for a nightcap? Maybe see me with a complicated brunette?”
“It’s a nice offer, Hotshot. But I’m gonna pass.”
“If I wanted to pursue you relentlessly, how would I do that?” he asked, his good hand on the door handle.
“I have a feeling you’ll find a way,” she predicted.
He certainly would. After a long, hot shower and a good night’s sleep.
Linc opened the door with his left hand. “I’ll see you around, doc,” he said.
“I’m sure you will.”
He grabbed his bag from the back and, with a little salute, let himself in where he was promptly mauled with unconditional love.
5
She knew it was still dark without opening her eyes. Her internal clock was a marvel. An annoyingly consistent marvel.
Five-thirty in the morning. She considered pulling the pillow over her head and trying for another half an hour, but it was futile. The day had begun.
She kicked off what covers had survived the night and stepped over the bedspread that had been rejected. A lousy sleeper, Dr. Mackenzie O’Neil had gotten used to getting by on a few hours a night. There was too much adrenaline in her life.
The bedroom was small by most people’s standards. But most people hadn’t spent a good amount of time deployed to field hospitals in foreign lands. The double mattress was comfortable enough for the next six months. And when she had a spare minute, she’d probably finish unpacking her clothes.
This stopover in Benevolence, Maryland, was like another deployment. A temporary placement. A short-term job to do. Today, she’d find out exactly what she’d gotten herself into.
The floorboards creaked under her bare feet as she headed into the bathroom. It was tiny—like the rest of the house—but the landlord had managed to squeeze in enough storage in the vanity, open shelves, and sliver of a linen closet to make it usable.
Mack wrapped an elastic band around her hair, securing it in a stubby tail, and splashed cold water on her face until she felt the burn of blood flow.
Ten minutes later, she was out the door, running shoes on and muscles warm.
Late August in Maryland, she was learning, meant the fingers of summer humidity clung tight, even in the early morning hours. Turning left, she headed down the block, deciding to zig-zag through a new-to-her part of town before hitting the trail by the lake.
As her feet beat out a steady rhythm on the sidewalk beneath her, her brain organized her day. Shower. Breakfast. Tea. Then her first day on the job shadowing Dr. Dunnigan in the woman’s family medical practice where she would be spending four days a week until March.
Nerves danced up her spine, and she laughed out loud in the residential quiet. Mack O’Neil, afraid of a challenge? She was more afraid it wouldn’t be enough of a challenge. Worried the quiet, small-town life would end up being worse for her health than her previous high-stress career.
Adrenal fatigue. Impending burnout. Looming exhaustion.
As a medical professional, she knew the dangers of pushing the body too hard for too long. Yet she hadn’t just stepped a toe or two over that line. No. She’d run a good hundred yards in the wrong direction.
She’d always been able to temper the hard work with hard play. And when necessary, well-earned island vacations with nothing to worry about but umbrellas in drinks and sunscreen applications. But lately, she hadn’t been able to play hard enough. Hadn’t been able to level out.
And she was smart enough to tackle the problem now before it cost her too much.
She had the next six months to get herself together. Six months of fish oil and vegetables, meditation and sleep.
God, she hoped it wouldn’t take that long.
She’d been pushing hard since forever. And now it was time to stop pushing and start…whatever the opposite of pushing was.
Glancing down at her watch, she slowed her pace to stay in the appropriate heart rate zone. Enough for a workout but not a flat-out sprint.
“Just breathe,” Mack reminded herself. That’s all she had to do. Breathe and rest. And hope the boredom wouldn’t kill her.
She sucked in a long, slow breath. Then blew it out. The concrete under her feet changed to dirt and pine needles, and she let her thoughts shake free as the trees of the woods closed around her.
Four miles, and she was back at the front door of her rental. The flowerbeds—hell, she had flowerbeds now—needed a good weeding. The lawn was a little tall, and she remembered there was a push mower in the garage that was too small to house her SUV.
She’d squeeze in some yard work later today.
She jogged up the tidy brick steps and let herself inside. The house, a cottage really, felt like something out of a storybook with its rounded front door painted cerulean to accent the daffodil yellow siding. The door opened into the living room that took up t
he entire front half of the house. Yellow pine floors, cute built-ins, even a tidy brick fireplace that—were she the type—would be nice to curl up in front of with a good book on a snowy night.
But Mack wasn’t the good-book-on-a-snowy-night type. She was the type to hang out of a helicopter, transporting patients from the scenes of their snowy accidents to the nearest trauma center.
“One shift a week,” she reminded herself, heading down the short hallway into the kitchen. Four days in the clinic. One day with the air team.
The kitchen could have used an update, but the creaky cabinets, painted a pale blue, had their own kind of well-used charm. There was a short L of butcher block countertop. A white fridge and stove. No dishwasher. But cooking for one didn’t produce an excess of dishes.
Mack put the kettle on and then assembled the ingredients for her protein shake, her breakfast of nutritional necessity. She jammed fruits, yogurt, sprouts, and green stuff into the blender, topped it with protein powder and chia seeds, and let the appliance do its job.
She gave the kettle and blender a break and ran through a quick set of planks, push-ups, and sit-ups in the dining room next to the adorable stenciled table.
By the time she finished, the kettle was whistling, and the smoothie was as smooth as it was going to get.
She poured both into the appropriate receptacles and headed out onto the deck.
Five days in this place and spying on her sexy neighbor had easily slipped into her daily routine. Of course, that was going to have to change now that she’d given said neighbor a ride home last night.
What were the odds, she wondered. Apparently very good in a small town.
Chief Lincoln Reed was awake. Over the chest-high fence that divided their properties, she could see the lights were on at his place.
“Better not be working out,” she whispered to herself. Just like most health issues, partial dislocations were tricky if they weren’t given the rest they required.
Pot. Kettle, she thought blandly.
And there he was. The big, blond beefcake came into view in the window of what appeard to be a small home gym. He had a piece of pizza in his hand.
Breakfast of champions.
He bent, giving the dog a good scruff and then eyed the pull-up bar mounted to the wall.
“Don’t you dare do it,” Mack murmured into her tea.
Shirtless and slingless, Linc grabbed the bar with both hands and pulled his body up with perfect form.
The big, macho idiot. She knew the type, had spent enough of her adult life around men—and women—like that. First in med school, then the military. Now in her own backyard.
He dropped like a stone after one pull-up instead of his usual thirty and sank to the floor. The dog scooted closer until she was practically in his lap.
Reluctantly, Mack checked her watch. If she skipped meditation, she had time.
A house call would eat up the excess time between now and her first day on the job. He’d probably take it as a sign of attraction, and that didn’t really bother her enough to not go.
On a sigh, she put down the tea, picked up the abominable smoothie, and headed in the direction of the shower.
6
A knock on Linc’s door before seven a.m. usually meant his previous night’s guest had left something behind. A phone. Car keys. One time a thong.
But he’d slept alone last night and dreamed of the pretty doctor.
He dragged a t-shirt over his head, a heroic feat with one good arm, and headed toward the front door with Sunshine trotting at his heels.
He wondered if his eyes were deceiving him. There on the concrete stoop stood the woman of his dreams and fantasies. She was wearing slim navy pants and a fitted white polo, and she was carrying a bag.
“Doc Dreamy. Couldn’t stop thinking about me, could you?” He leaned against the doorframe. Sunshine poked her face out between his knees.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about the damage you were probably doing to yourself, Hotshot.”
“Damage?” he scoffed. “I’m resting. Doctor’s orders.” Idly, he scratched at his shoulder and wondered where he’d put the shoulder sling. Oh yeah, the kitchen trash can.
She stepped around him and walked right into the front room that served as a living room and man cave with the gigantic flat screen, pool table, and bar made from red metal cabinets.
“You weren’t trying to work out, were you? Turn that tweak into a tear?” she chided, eyeing the neon beer sign on the wall.
Either the woman was psychic, or he’d become predictable.
“If you know so much, smarty-pants, what did I have for breakfast?”
She dumped her bag on the pool table and gave him a contemplative look. The scar under her left eye created the slightest dimple under her lid. “You look like the cold pizza for breakfast kind of guy.”
Linc looked down at his dog. “Did you tattle on me?”
Sunshine’s tail swished happily against the black and white tile floor.
Dreamy’s face softened. “She’s kinda cute. I see you didn’t fix your curtains yet.” They were still in a rumpled pile on the floor where they’d fallen the night before.
“Two-handed job,” he explained.
“How are the burns?” she asked conversationally as she picked up the curtain rod and crumpled draperies.
“Not bad,” he said, glancing down at his bandaged hand.
She nudged a leather ottoman over to the window and hefted the rod and curtains off the floor. Leaning against his Ms. Pac-Man pinball machine for support before clicking the rod back into place.
“Thanks.”
She stepped down onto the floor and pushed the ottoman back into place. “Figured I’d stop by and yell at you for whatever you were doing and swap out your bandages,” she said.
Sunshine wiggled her way over to the doc and plopped her butt on the floor.
“She is politely requesting that you give her all your love immediately,” he told her.
This could make or break their relationship. Any woman who didn’t snuggle his dog and tell her she was the prettiest girl in the world was one he had to walk away from.
“Hello there. It’s very nice to meet you,” she said, patting Sunshine awkwardly on the head. Sunshine looked confused.
“Have you never played with a dog before?”
“Am I doing it wrong?”
“Try squishing her face in your hands and telling her she’s a pretty, pretty girl,” Linc suggested.
“You’re a pretty, pretty girl,” Dreamy said, gently holding Sunshine’s face in her hands. The dog approved the effort and gave her face a welcoming slurp.
“Good job. That means she likes you.”
“Likes me or wants to eat me?” she asked, still stroking the dog’s silky fur.
“In the dog world, there isn’t much difference.”
At his voice, Sunshine remembered her unconditional love for him and galloped back to his side.
“Where can I wash my hands? I’ll get you bandaged up, and you can return to your day of ignoring doctor’s orders,” Dreamy said, rising and brushing the dog hair off her pants.
He pointed to the doorway between the bar and the TV.
“This is definitely a bachelor pad,” she said, when she returned, wiping her hands on a paper towel.
“A lot of this was my grandfather’s,” he explained, sweeping an arm toward the shelves that displayed a collection of 1950s gas station memorabilia and firefighter related knickknacks. “He owned it when it was a gas station and garage.”
Dreamy dug through her bag and produced gauze and tape.
“Interesting,” she decided. Though he noticed her questioning look at the kegerator in the corner. His place was unapologetically him. His grandfather owned and operated the service center into the seventies. Linc bought it several years ago and started the eclectic renovation, paying homage to the building’s past and his own love of fire-fighting history.
&n
bsp; “Where can we do this?” she asked, then held up a hand when he opened his mouth. “I’ll save us both from you suggesting the bedroom. Here is fine.”
She chose the sofa. A long, low leather piece that usually held buddies for the game or whoever called next game on the table. Not one to be left out, Sunshine hopped up on the end of the couch.
They sat facing each other, and Dreamy took his bandaged hand in hers.
He’d leaned on her heavily last night to and from the car. But this time she was touching him. He liked her touch. Cool, competent. Strong, but there was a gentleness there, too.
The burn on the back of his hand was angry, red and blistered. But he’d had worse. Would have worse again.
Gently, she applied a light layer of burn cream and laid a clean piece of gauze on top.
He was sitting on his couch holding hands with a woman whose name he didn’t know…yet.
Say what you would about Lincoln Reed, but the man always had a name to go with the face accompanying him home. But not this time. She’d turned down his first invitation into his home, then turned up on his doorstep with first aid supplies and window treatment skills.
“Try to keep the wound clean and moist. Rest the shoulder. Your body can only take so much,” she said, wrapping another layer of sticky tape around his hand
“Are you doubting my stamina, Dreamy?”
Sunshine wriggled down the couch to stick her head in the doctor’s lap.
“I’m doubting your sanity, Hotshot.” She pressed the tape flat against his hand, sealing it to his skin. “And now I’m doubting mine for coming here.” But she gave Sunshine another pet, more confident now. And when his dog’s tail thumped happily, Dreamy’s grin was joyful. “You’re a very good girl. You take good care of your daddy and don’t let him do anything stupid.”
Sunshine squished herself against the doctor, trying to get as close as possible to the nice lady.
“What’s the rush? You could hang out here and make sure I follow doctor’s orders,” he offered.
