Protecting What’s Mine: A Small Town Love Story

by Score, Lucy

  “Friendly and nosy. Don’t be surprised if you find Georgia Rae going through your trash.”

  “Who’s Georgia Rae?”

  “Now why would I go and spoil the surprise?”

  A siren chirped, catching their attention. “Aldo Moretta, unhand the pretty doctor lady and stop blocking traffic.” Lincoln Reed’s voice came through loud and clear thanks to the speaker on the chief’s vehicle.

  “I see you’ve already caught Lover Boy’s attention,” Aldo said, slinging an arm around her shoulder.

  “Not officially,” she deferred.

  “Don’t fall for anything he says. It’s all a line,” he teased.

  “Just what I need. An interfering big brother,” she quipped.

  Arm in arm, they strolled over to Linc’s SUV.

  “Aren’t you married?” Linc asked Aldo through his open window.

  “Blissfully. And I need to text Gloria immediately before the town starts beating down our door with rumors that I’m making out with another woman in the middle of town,” Aldo said. “So you’re a fan of Doc Dreamy?”

  Linc’s grin was slow and just for Mack. “That explains a lot.”

  “Ladies’ Man Chief Lincoln Reed, meet Dr. Mackenzie ‘Hero is my Middle Name’ O’Neil,” Aldo said.

  Linc held out his bandaged hand. “Real nice to meet you officially, Doc O’Neil.”

  Mack accepted it and pretended to ignore the flutter in her stomach when his grip tightened suggestively.

  “A pleasure, chief,” she said, the picture of innocence.

  “It will be,” he predicted.

  “Don’t even start, man. She’s too good for you.” Aldo teased, but Mack caught the flash in Linc’s eyes.

  But then his grin grew degrees more charming, his gaze warmer, and she wondered if she’d imagined it.

  “Watch out for this one. He’s a connoisseur of the opposite sex,” Aldo said, elbowing Mack. “Linc loves ’em and leaves ’em.”

  A hatchback drove by slower than the mom with the double stroller on the sidewalk. The driver gawked at them, and Linc gave her a lazy wave.

  “You better move out before all of Benevolence is talking about your illicit affair,” Linc said. “I’ll see you around, doc.”

  “I should stop blocking traffic,” Mack said, jerking her thumb in the direction of her SUV.

  “Cookout. Next week,” Aldo said, pointing at her. “You can meet Gloria and the kids. I’d say tonight, but we just got back from Disney a few days ago, and we’re still drowning in laundry and wondering how the kids packed an entire suitcase full of sand.”

  Mack shook her head and grinned. “A lot to catch up on,” she said.

  At least on Aldo’s part. He’d been shipped home, retired from the National Guard, gotten married, and started a family. Five years ago, the only sand he’d seen had been desert. Now he went to Disney on family vacations.

  But she was still doing the same thing. Her deployments were over. But wasn’t this basically the same? A short-term placement.

  “Sounds great,” she said.

  “I’ll text you.”

  Mack waved Aldo off as he resumed his run. She felt the weight of Linc’s gaze on her.

  He stared out his windshield. “You know there’s more to me than my dating history.”

  “I’m not not sleeping with you because you enjoy women,” she assured him.

  He turned to look at her.

  “Maybe I’m not sleeping with you because of my dating history.”

  “Just get out of a long-term relationship?” he guessed.

  “Opposite. If you’re a ladies’ man, I’m a man’s lady. Men’s lady? Anyway, I’m taking a break from it.”

  “Maybe we should both try something different. We’ll just have to get married,” Linc decided with a grin.

  He drove off and left Mack blinking after him.

  11

  “Leah, if you stop trying to kick your brother in the nuts, maybe he won’t be such a little turd to you,” Linc called from his patio where he warmed up the grill for hot dogs and burgers to feed his young hostages. He’d gotten up early on his day off and had put in a full day of paperwork and maintenance work at the station by noon.

  “Uncle Linc! Make her stop,” Bryson screeched, his voice cracking in the middle of the whine as puberty asserted its presence.

  “Why? If you stop taking her water gun and she stops kicking you, you’re just gonna find something else to fight about.”

  Linc’s oldest sister, Rebecca, found out about his day off and dumped his niece and nephew on him for a few hours because, as she put it, “If I have to listen to them scream at each other for one more second, I’m going to enter the witness relocation program.”

  When he pointed out that the entrance requirements involved actually witnessing something that required relocation, she’d threatened to commit the crime herself.

  So he had Bryson, thirteen, and Leah, ten, to entertain and terrorize him for the afternoon.

  His cell phone rang on the picnic table. “Shit. Which one of you big mouths told Aunt Christa you were here?” Both hooligans raised their hands.

  News of free babysitting traveled fast in the Reed family.

  “What’s up, sis?”

  “How’s my favorite brother?”

  “Great. Busy. Heading in to the station,” he lied. Leah let out a blood-curdling scream. To silence her, he threw a water balloon that hit her in the shoulder.

  “No, you’re not. You’re watching Becca’s kids, and I’m out front with mine.”

  He feigned a groan. “Seriously? I’m injured. How am I supposed to break up the fights when they start to go Hunger Games on each other?”

  His back door opened, and his sister Christa poked her head out. “Surprise!” Where Becca was tall and athletic, Christa was shorter, curvier, and abhorred anything that made her sweat. Both had the trademark Reed blond hair and dimpled chins.

  Her two daughters followed her out onto the patio. Sunshine lifted her head and gave a mighty yawn before deigning to greet the new guests.

  Christa made the appropriate fuss over her before the girls got their hugs in.

  Bryson jogged over and initiated a complicated cousin handshake with 11-year-old Samantha. Kinley was lugging a backpack of books.

  “If they’re too much for you, just turn a fire hose on them,” she suggested, giving him a loud kiss on the cheek. “How’s your shoulder? Where’s your sling?”

  “You sound like Dreamy,” Linc complained.

  “Who’s Dreamy?” she demanded.

  “Uncle Linc, are you making us hot dogs, too?” Samantha asked, sniffing the air.

  “That depends, Mantha. Got five bucks?”

  Samantha had spent two full years railing against the “boyish” nickname Sam, adding “mantha” to the shortened moniker until she ended up as just Mantha.

  She gave him a small smile. “No. But if you distract my mom, I can probably get in her purse like last time.” Linc and Samantha were united in their continuing mission to drive Christa crazy.

  His sister rolled her eyes and tugged Samantha’s braid. “Nice try, champ. Now, Mom’s gotta go crack a nice lady’s back. I’ll be back in an hour, two tops, if I decide to swing by the grocery store to feed you monsters later tonight. Don’t burn down Uncle Linc’s house.”

  His sister practically danced out of the backyard, ecstatic with newfound freedom. Linc didn’t hold it against her. She’d gone through a shitty divorce two years ago, and he was happy to step up his uncle game to give her breaks when she needed it.

  He threw four more dogs on the grill. Kinley was small, but the kid could put away hot dogs like a drunk fraternity pledge. Sunshine sighed against his shin and gave him The Look.

  He threw another hot dog on the grill.

  His home was designed for a bachelor’s lifestyle, which coincidentally also made it great for entertaining kids. In addition to the pool table and beer fridge, he had a fr
eezer full of hot dogs, a server that hosted every kid’s movie known to man, and an endless supply of dart guns.

  “Whatcha reading, Kins?” he asked. His niece was curled up in the hammock swing he’d hung just for her from the rafter of his overhang trellis.

  Kinley hated being interrupted when she was reading and reminded him of that fact with a weighty sigh for a seven-year-old before flashing the cover at him. Common Psychological Conditions, Their Symptoms, and Diagnoses.

  Kinley, an advanced reader, had carte blanche at the local library.

  “Who wants to play with knives?” he called to the three kids who were competing in some complex Star Wars pirate game with sticks and sound effects.

  All three dropped their sticks and came running.

  “You get the onion,” he said, dropping it in front of Bryson. “Real men cry. Deal with it.”

  “I want the tomato,” Leah said, expressing her desires with gimmie fingers.

  “Life is full of disappointments. Here’s the lettuce. I want it finely chopped, not like those giant chunks you did at Fourth of July.”

  Samantha waited patiently and smirked when he gave her the tomato. “Thank you, Uncle Linc.”

  He took the tomato and replaced it with a block of cheese. “Don’t be a kiss-ass.”

  The kids snickered. Sunshine beamed up at him and wiggled closer to Samantha, hoping for a cheese handout.

  “Remember knife safety,” he said, strutting behind them like a drill sergeant as the kids picked up their paring knives.

  “No stabbing ourselves or anyone else,” they recited.

  “Good. Now slice and dice, dorks.”

  * * *

  They ate grilled meat with clumsily sliced vegetables on paper plates under the sunny afternoon sky and enjoyed each other’s company.

  Sunshine wolfed down her hot dog and then made eyes at Kinley until she forked over a generous bite of hamburger.

  “Uncle Linc, why don’t you have kids?” Kinley asked out of nowhere.

  “Because I haven’t made any yet.” His sisters were almost uncomfortably open with their kids on the baby-making process. And Linc was only just beginning to start considering the possibilities of family life. Someday. If he met the right woman.

  “But you practice a lot,” Bryson pointed out.

  Linc riffed the bill of his nephew’s cap. “Smartass.”

  “Mom says he isn’t ready to settle down,” Samantha insisted knowledgeably.

  “Maybe your mom should mind her own beeswax,” Linc said, to the delight of the kids.

  “Don’t you want to have kids?”

  “He has to find a wife or a husband first, dummy,” Kinley chimed in. “Do you have a preference, Uncle Linc?”

  “He doesn’t have to be married,” Leah said. “Our dad says you can have babies and not be married, but we should make sure we’re in a solid ’nancial position before deciding.”

  “Financial,” Bryson corrected, disdainfully. “Uncle Linc, do you make a lot of money being a fire chief?”

  “No, nephew. No, I do not. But I’m expecting my bath bomb store on Etsy to take off any day now.”

  Four pairs of eyes pinned him with stares. Either they didn’t get the joke or didn’t think it was funny.

  “So, who’s up for a dart gun war?”

  They battled it out for dominion on the summer crispy lawn, Linc firing left-hand in deference to his shoulder injury and burns.

  He was up against the fence, Sunshine gleefully chasing Kinley, who was using her psychology tome as a shield to head to higher ground. Bryson, Leah, and Samantha fired and shrieked in kid glee.

  He heard a door slide open and closed and took a peek over the fence. The cottage that backed up to his property was a rental, and he’d forgotten the landlord had signed a new lease.

  He meant to only glance. Maybe throw up a friendly wave and apologize for the volume of his charges. But when he saw who it was, leaning against the railing of the small, tidy deck, he forgot everything.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  She wiggled her fingers at him. “Hi, neighbor.”

  “The devious Doctor Dreamy.”

  “Is that her superhero name?” Leah wondered. Her pink sneakers scrabbled at the fence as she tried to climb up to get a better view.

  “Hi,” Bryson said, dropping his voice lower and hiding the dart gun behind his back. “Uncle Linc, can we spend the night?” It looked like two Reed men had a crush on the same woman.

  “Take that!” Samantha crowed, raining Nerf darts down on them in a fatal torrent.

  “Excuse me for a minute,” Linc said to Mack and then collapsed to the grass in an epic death scene.

  Bryson and Leah followed suit.

  “I am the victor!” Samantha shouted, taking a victory lap around the yard.

  A dart pegged her square in the forehead. “Not anymore, Mantha.” Kinley smugly twirled her dart gun around her finger.

  “No fair!” Samantha complained. “I didn’t know you were playing!”

  “It’s called strategy. You should use it sometime,” Kinley said in a superior tone.

  “You know the rules, Mantha. Let’s see the death scene. Make it Oscar-worthy,” Linc called.

  Samantha stomped her foot and then swept a hand to her forehead. “I feel faint! I see light. Great-Granny Mildred? Is that you?” Her knees buckled. Sunshine, concerned with the moaning, trotted over to lick her reassuringly.

  But Samantha couldn’t be revived. She fell forward and crawled the twenty feet to her audience. “Always remember,” she rasped. “That you’re all fart faces.”

  And with that, she left the mortal coil.

  Sunshine, confused and concerned, lay down next to Samantha and licked her ear.

  “Bravo!” Linc started the standing ovation and was joined by the rest of the kids and Mack.

  “I didn’t know you had almost an entire starting basketball team lineup,” Mack teased.

  “Oh, we’re not his kids,” Samantha said, coming back to life.

  “Yeah, he can’t settle down,” Kinley piped up from over her book.

  “He likes practicing making babies more than actually making them,” Bryson said with a “what are you gonna do” shrug.

  The kid had charm in spades.

  “Are you single?” Leah asked Mack. “Do you like kids and hot dogs and darts and Sunshine?” Leah smooshed Sunshine’s face in her hands to emphasize the dog’s cuteness.

  “We don’t know if he likes ladies or men yet,” Kinley reminded them.

  “Ladies! I like ladies,” Linc said emphatically. “Not that there’s anything wrong with liking men or both or whatever. I like ladies, and you all can feel free to shut your traps right about now.”

  Mack laughed. A low, rich rasp that caught him in the chest. And Linc decided he’d be happy to be the butt of all jokes forever if he got to hear that laugh again.

  “Did you guys know that your uncle got hurt?” Mack asked, stepping off the deck and wandering over to the chest-high fence.

  “Mom said he saved someone’s life,” Samantha said, tying her long hair back in a lumpy ponytail. “I like your hair.”

  “Thanks.” Mack smiled. “I like yours. Uncle Linc hurt his shoulder and got burnt, and he’s supposed to be resting. I think you’re supposed to babysit him today and make sure he doesn’t do anything too strenuous.”

  They converged on him like lions on a fresh kill.

  “Dr. Mack is just kidding. She’s lying,” Linc said desperately when Kinley grabbed his good arm and started dragging him toward the house. The other kids pushed from behind.

  “We’ll take good care of him, Dr. Mack,” Bryson assured her confidently.

  “I can make him supper! Do you like toast with peanut butter and chocolate chips?” Leah wanted to know.

  “See if you can get him to take a nap,” Mack called after them, and Linc heard that husky laugh again.

  “You’ll pay for th
is,” he warned her.

  “Have fun, chief.”

  12

  Mack stripped off her exam gloves, then washed her hands again for good measure.

  “A case of pinkeye, Mr…” Ah, hell, what was his name? Rarely in the last several years of practicing medicine had she needed to know and remember a patient’s name.

  “Botham,” the man supplied. She tried not to stare in medical fascination at his crusty, red, swollen left eye.

  “Mr. Botham you and…your son will be just fine,” Mack promised. Dammit. She needed to figure out a mnemonic to temporarily memorize names. “I’ll write a script for both of you. You’ll start feeling and seeing better tomorrow.”

  “How about we get some ice cream after we swing by the pharmacy, Spence?” Mr. Botham asked his seven-year-old son.

  Spencer. Right.

  The kid perked up.

  “I’ll call in the prescriptions now. They should be ready for you shortly,” Mack said, fingers stumbling over the laptop keyboard. Typing and remembering patient names hadn’t been essential skills in her job until now. She’d work on both. “You should both stay home tomorrow, though, since pinkeye is very contagious.” Clearly.

  “Thanks, doc. Welcome to town,” Mr. Botham said and ushered Spencer out of the exam room.

  “Thank you,” she called after them.

  Mack’s eye suddenly felt itchy, and she resisted the urge to wash her hands again. The Bothams had been the second and third cases of pinkeye today. A wild first day in family medicine.

  She tore off the exam table paper and gave it, the doorknobs, and chair arms a quick swipe down with a Lysol wipe.

  Glancing at the patient queue on the computer, she noted there were several more appointments on the calendar than there had been when she came in this morning.

  She headed in the direction of the front desk. “Tuesday, is this a glitch—” Mack didn’t get to finish the sentence. The waiting room was full. Nearly everybody in the room had at least one red, crusty eye. While the majority of the patients were of elementary school age, there were also quite a few itchy-eyed adults. The oldest in the room was pushing ninety by her estimation.