by Hope Ramsay
“How’s Sara getting along?”
“Oh, hello, Chief,” Glinda said, sliding open the window. “Well, she’s a sweetheart, always has been. But Doctor’s set in his ways. It’s hard for him, after working alone all these years.”
Leonore pulled off her giant earphones. “Whew-y! That Sara sure talks a lot when she dictates her charts. Lord, my fingers are going to fall off from all this transcribing.”
Glinda laughed. “That’s because Doctor barely says anything at all, just ‘normal exam.’”
“Well, Dr. Sara includes every body part in her physicals. And the tests she orders! I haven’t heard of half of ’em!”
Colton smiled. “Sounds like Sara’s just what this office needs. Like getting a big gust of fresh air in here.”
“Why Chief Walker, are you sweet on her?” Leonore asked.
“Absolutely not.” He shoved the coffee cup closer to the window. “Sara forgot this at the Bean. And I’m—um—here to get my stitches out. Sara told me I could just stop by sometime and I’ve been so busy I keep forgetting. But if now’s not a good time—” Oh, hell, what was he doing? He hadn’t intended to get his stitches out right now. Guess he’d panicked a little. He certainly didn’t want them to think he’d gone out of his way on Sara’s account.
Glinda immediately disappeared into the back, then reappeared a minute later to open the door to the waiting room. “Come on back, sweetie. Doctor can see you now. He said no need to wait for Sara. He’s got a couple of minutes.”
A strange wave of disappointment washed over Colton, which he quickly brushed off as he made his way to an exam room. Had he actually been looking forward to sparring with her over his suture removal? Her father would be the saner choice. Plus he wouldn’t have to worry about getting another shot in the ass.
“Well, hello there, son.” Dr. Langdon said, pulling his bifocals down his nose and rolling a stool up to the exam table where Colton sat. “Let’s have a look.” The older doctor inspected his arm. “Sara did a nice job with these. Everything looks well healed.”
“Yes, sir.” As the doctor tore open the suture removal kit, Colton asked, “What’s it like having your daughter here working with you?” Why don’t you just keep your mouth shut and get your sutures out? a voice in his head said. He was never good at listening to voices of authority anyway.
“Oh, it’s fantastic. I’m so proud of her,” Dr. Langdon said as he snipped a suture. “I just fear we may not have her here with us for very long. She’s destined for things more prestigious than a family medical practice in a tiny town like ours.”
Tiny town. Right. Sara wouldn’t be hanging around here for very long, that was for sure. “You ever tell her that—how proud you are of her?”
He paused with his instruments in midair. “Excuse me, son?”
Oh boy, he was really overstepping now, yet he couldn’t seem to stop his mouth. “Oh, just that maybe she needs to hear that. I mean, I imagine working with your dad is a great thing, but it can be a little stressful too, especially in the beginning. Everyone has to be a little flexible, which is hard after doing things the same way for so long—and everybody needs to know they’re wanted, right?”
Dr. Langdon raised a thick gray brow. “Yes, well, sure. Are you implying that my daughter doesn’t feel that she’s wanted here?”
“No, sir, I’m not saying that. It’s just that I could understand how she might feel you might not want a partner to interfere with your way of doing things.”
Dr. Langdon chuckled. “Sara’s made a decision I don’t necessarily agree with. I respect her wanting to come back home to be with her grandmother, but I disagree with her delaying her fellowship training to do it. She’s meant to do greater things than Angel Falls can offer.”
The doctor sat back and cleared away his instruments. “There you go, Chief, good as new.”
“Thank you.” OK, this discussion was done and Colton had clearly overstepped his bounds. Plus Dr. Langdon had just echoed what he’d known all along—Sara wasn’t here to stay. This town was just a tiny pit stop in a life full of bigger things. Harvard, Mayo Clinic—who knew what would be next? He jumped down off the table, inspecting his arm. “Oh, I was talking to the firefighters,” he said. “We’d like to have a medical person come in and talk to both departments about our protocols for Narcan use during our drug overdose runs. Would you be able to help us out?”
They walked together out of the room, stopping beside the reception area. “I think that might be something Sara would jump at the chance to do.”
“Did you just sign me up for something?” Sara asked as she flew by. She halted in her tracks just in front of Colton. “Colton! What are you doing here?”
“He brought your coffee,” Leonore said, putting her cup up on the counter. “Wasn’t that a sweet gesture?”
“Sweet,” Sara said, looking at him with a puzzled expression. She was standing close enough that he could see the light smattering of freckles she’d tried to cover with makeup but hadn’t quite succeeded. Her scent wafted over to him, a fresh, light vanilla, like a cupcake straight from the oven. All that wondrous hair of hers was pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, which left an expanse of creamy white skin exposed on her neck. Pretty. He had a sudden urge to reach over and place his lips on it.
No, no, no. “You forgot it,” he said. “At the coffee shop.”
“Oh, thank you.” She took a sip and smiled. He must’ve been an idiot all these years, making her frown instead of flash that smile.
“Your dad took my stitches out,” he said, holding out his arm. “All healed.” Now he was acting like an idiot. “Anyway, have a nice day.”
“Thanks. You too.” As Colton turned to leave, he heard Sara ask, “What happened to Larry Crosby, Leonore? I swear he was in the waiting room a minute ago.”
“Oh, we were a little backed up, so I told him he could run and get his hair cut, as long as he came back in about a half hour.”
Sara’s gaze drifted over to his. He caught her incredulous look and worked hard to suppress a chuckle. She grabbed her coffee and took a big swig. When she looked up, her mouth was turned up in the tiniest smile, like they’d just shared a private joke. “Thanks again for the coffee, Colton,” she said.
“Hey, no problem,” he said. But inside he had a growing feeling that it was.
* * *
Yep, she’d really needed that coffee. And Colton had delivered it, with a smile. Without a gotcha. Yet.
Sara realized she’d been standing near the reception desk, staring at the closed door.
Leonore cleared her throat, making Sara snap to attention.
Glinda inclined her head toward the exam rooms. “I heard Chief Walker in there just now talking to your father. He was defending you.”
“Defending me?” What on earth…?
“Yeah. He said your dad should tell you how proud he is of you because people need to hear that. Isn’t that sweet?”
Sara blanched. What was worse, she wondered, the fact that the staff was eavesdropping on private patient conversations or the fact that Colton had felt a need to intervene with her father? She wasn’t going to earn her father’s respect by having someone else fight her battles.
And why on earth would Colton suddenly stick up for her, anyway? It was unnatural. Like just now, when he hadn’t even drilled her with his usual smart-ass comment. Just grinned that unholy grin and sauntered out. Leaving her with cappuccino and a dumb smile on her face.
“I hate to say it,” Leonore said solemnly, “but I think Chief’s got a crush on you.”
“What?” Sara said. “No way. That’s ridiculous.”
“Yep,” Leonore said. “He brought your coffee. And he didn’t even have an appointment to get those stitches out.”
“He’s like the boy in grade school who pulls the little girl’s braids,” Glinda said. “She thinks he doesn’t like her, but it’s just the opposite.”
“It had better not be the
opposite,” Sara’s father said, suddenly materializing at the counter. “That boy’s a good police chief, but he’s not marriage material. Now don’t we have some patients to see, ladies?”
Sara winced for what felt like the thirtieth time that day. She had enough problems—she could not let runaway speculation about Colton or her personal life be one of them. Grabbing a chart and heading to a room, she was more than happy to get back to work.
Several hours later, she felt a hand on her shoulder—her dad’s. “Hey, pumpkin, it’s quitting time. You’ve officially made it through your first two weeks.”
Sara looked at the clock. Nearly seven. Seven o’clock! No one here seemed to think an eleven-hour workday was unusual.
“Rachel just called,” her dad said. “Gabby’s friend Malcolm is in town. She wants us all to meet for dinner at Giuseppe’s. Can you come? Say around eight-ish? You can ride with us.”
Giuseppe’s was the world’s most wonderful restaurant, the place where the family often celebrated big events, but Sara was dead on her feet. “I’m going to stop at home,” she told her dad. “I’ll meet you at the restaurant.” She said good night to the ladies and walked out into the golden summer evening. Except her steps didn’t walk her toward home.
She couldn’t have the ladies in the office gossiping about the possibility of a romance between her and Colton. People would overhear and it would be all around town faster than you could say happy hour specials at Lou’s. And she didn’t want Colton interfering in her business with her father—no matter that he was actually being nice for once, for God’s sake.
There was no time like the present to shut this rumor mill down quick. The irony was not lost on her that now that Colton had finally done something nice, she was going to tell him to back off.
Chapter 9
Sara walked into the main room of the tidy white-brick police station where the full-time deputy, Evan Marshall, was talking on the phone. “Chief Walker’s off duty now, Mrs. Robertson, but I’m happy to come by. So Mr. Clinton’s dog pooped on your lawn again?”
Evan looked up and waved. He was an eager twenty-three-year-old, but to her he still looked like the freckled little kid she used to babysit. Except he never had outgrown that gun fetish of his. He was sitting behind one of three desks and a console with more blinking lights than the starship Enterprise. She made out a police radio, two printers, and a big black scanner with red lights scrolling maniacally back and forth.
Just then Colton leaned into the room, stretching his arms over his head on the door frame between the main room and his office and suppressing a yawn. He had dark circles under his eyes. His gray uniform shirt was a little rumpled, and there was a giant grass stain on the thigh of his uniform pants. (How did a person even get a grass stain there?) All of which led her to believe maybe he’d had sort of a not-great day too. Which suddenly made her feel awful about coming here to give him grief about being nice to her.
Evan covered the phone receiver with his palm and spoke to Colton. “Louise Robertson’s insisting on talking with you.”
“Tell her I’ll stop by on my way home,” Colton said.
“I can take care of this, Chief. It’s just dog poop, and you were supposed to be out of here an hour and a half ago.”
Colton shook his head. “Harry Clinton needs to step up his game. When’s he going to learn that having his dog poop in the yard of the widow he wants to ask out on a date isn’t going to get him anywhere?”
He chuckled. That small bit of laughter changed his entire face, took it from simply ho-hum handsome to please-be-the-father-of-my-children devastating. Sara’s stomach catapulted. Heat spread through her abdomen, rushed into her cheeks, weakened her knees.
Settle down, ovaries. It was just the Colton Effect. Which was impacting her due to the fact that it had been a year since she’d had any physical contact with a man. So there.
The moment he saw her, his hands dropped from the door frame and he stood up straight, cracking his knuckles—nervously? Nah, Colton Walker didn’t do nervous. She was the one who was struggling to keep it together right now.
“Sara, what are you doing here? Is something wrong?” He sounded—concerned.
In fact, he’d sounded concerned a lot lately. Starting when her grandmother got lost and continuing through today at the coffee shop. And again at the office.
A ball of guilt suddenly lodged in her throat.
She swallowed it down. Reminded herself that he was the same person who’d sat in speech class sophomore year during her inspirational speech on finding your passion and mimicked everything she’d said; who’d been kissing Stacey Prescott in the hallway and said to Sara, who must’ve been staring, “Like what you see, Langdon?” And laughed. Who’d kissed her one time—once—and never spoken of it again. And literally looked at her in annoyance and disgust for years afterward.
Why was she even thinking about that now?
She had to get things straight with him if they were going to coexist in the same town. She wasn’t going to back down now.
“No, I just—I wondered if we could have a word in private?” she said.
“Sure,” he said, waving a hand toward his office.
She walked in, and what she saw surprised her. He’d clearly inherited Chief McGregor’s massive glass-topped desk, and it was covered with stacks of papers. But in the deep windowsill behind the desk there were…plants. A philodendron climbing all around the window frame and headed to a nearby bookshelf. Palms and other houseplants and even a cactus.
A blue-and-black-striped rug sat tidily under his desk and the walls were painted a light blue. A cluster of framed photos hung on the wall near the desk, including one of Chief McGregor linking arms with three smiling cop buddies, arms around each other’s shoulders. A German shepherd lying in a dog bed in the corner perked up his ears as soon as she walked in.
“Police dog?” she asked.
He nodded. “Champ’s working,” he said, his mouth lifting at the corners.
“I see.” She nodded as the dog trotted over for affection. “Can I—pet him?” The dog nudged his nose against her palm until she did, taking that decision off the table.
“Actually, he fell a little short of passing the K9 exams as a puppy,” Colton said. “He’s my dog now. I bring him to work with me most days.”
“You’re a handsome boy,” Sara said as she scratched behind the dog’s dark ears. The dog sniffed her hair and licked her face. “And ferocious, I see.” She took a seat in one of the simple navy upholstered chairs on the other side of his desk. “Look, I came here to get something straight between us. Leonore overheard what you said to my dad this afternoon about—about maybe being a little more—flexible—and I—maybe you were trying to help, but…”
Well, she was quite articulate, wasn’t she? She thought of all those years when Colton had definitely not ever tried to help her. Why on earth he’d be interested in doing so now she couldn’t fathom. The Colton Walker she’d seen over the past two weeks seemed like someone she’d never met before.
She tried again. “I appreciate what you were trying to do, but I have to handle my dad on my own. If it looks like I need help to do that, I’ll never gain anyone’s respect. Plus Leonore and Glinda are convinced you’re sweet on me, and that is not only insane but the last thing I need to contend with in the office—or in town, because if that gets around, neither of us will have any peace.”
When she’d been a teenager with braces and pimples, she’d had no words. She’d been completely and utterly tongue-tied in front of him, intimidated by both his good looks and by whatever mean things he could utter. But now the playing field between them had been leveled. And Tagg was no longer in the middle. It was just the two of them.
A peculiar feeling slid through her. That they were both different people now. That this was a completely different ball game, and she wasn’t sure of the rules.
He leaned forward a little. A desk lamp was on, shining a blue
-white beam over all the paperwork and the dozen sticky notes marching in a neat row down his desk. It also highlighted his great bone structure—his strong jaw, that five o’clock shadow already well on its way to becoming a full beard. He stared at her, mulling over his reply.
“For what it’s worth, I respect you.” He paused to let that sink in. “Since I’ve been chief, I’ve become a problem solver. It’s what I do. I was just trying to be helpful. I’m sorry if I did the wrong thing.” He tapped a pencil on his desk, which worked his forearm muscles, which were…impressive. Plus he was tanned. And he had nice hands. He used to have great hair too, but it was short now, no nonsense. Like he’d shaved all his vanity off.
Sara sucked in a breath. That was it? She’d expected…resistance. Anger. At least sarcasm. But an apology?
She was completely thrown.
“Another thing, Red, I know you’re eager to get your dad’s office up to snuff and running efficiently but you might just want to…relax a little. This isn’t Columbia. Not that some things don’t need changing around here but big adjustments take time, you know what I mean? Just my two cents.” He didn’t say it in a know-it-all way. In fact, he sounded concerned. Like a friend. Except the feelings coursing around inside her right now weren’t exactly giving off a friends vibe.
“I get it. Rome wasn’t built in a day and all that.” She cringed. God, could she babble any worse?
He leaned back in his chair. “I have something else to ask you too, while you’re here.”
“OK, what is it?” He seemed so calm. When it felt like a flock of geese had suddenly overtaken her stomach.
“It’s my sister. She needs a physical before she starts college.”
A simple enough request. “Oh, sure, of course. There’s still time to get her scheduled for that.”
He cleared his throat. “I want to make sure she has…all the facts. Before she goes off to school.”
