“That’s what I do, I guess,” she admitted.
“Let me see if I can get it out without a tweezers,” he suggested. Taking a close look at it, he manipulated it a little, then pulled it out. “I think I got it all, but you really should ask Dean if he has a first-aid kit and put some antiseptic on it.”
Brooks was close enough to kiss. He was close enough for her to see the tiny scar above his eyebrow. His caring and his attention were like a balm that she’d needed for a couple of years and hadn’t even known it.
She heard the titter of laughter across the room and glanced at two volunteers who were eyeing her and Brooks. Uh-oh. She didn’t want any gossip starting about the two of them.
Spotting a couple of other volunteers glancing their way, too, she sighed. Did Brooks notice how they were becoming the center of attention? Before he could, before any of it could get out of hand, she backed away from him and said quickly, “I’ll find Dean and get this taken care of.”
Her sudden agreement seemed to surprise Brooks.
She hurried to the hall. Dean was there and when he saw her, he scowled! What was that about?
Approaching him, she asked, “Where do you keep the first-aid kit? I have a splinter I’d like to bandage up.”
“You can’t leave it in.”
“Brooks took it out. I just want to put antiseptic on it.”
Taking her by the elbow, Dean guided her up the hall to a bathroom. “We’ve got running water in there now. Wash it with soap. I’ll bring the kit in.”
“To the girls’ bathroom?” she asked with a laugh.
“It’s the only one working. We do what we have to do.”
With another smile, she went into the bathroom and did as Dean suggested. A few minutes later he was there with a plastic box. He removed a bottle of antiseptic and a tube of cream.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said.
“I’m making sure my hand doesn’t get infected.”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Jazzy. You don’t do it very well.”
She supposed that was a backhanded compliment. “What’s the problem, Dean? Every time you look at me today, you’re frowning.”
“That’s because there’s been little ripples around you and Brooks today.”
“Speak English, okay? What kind of ripples?”
“Whispers, under-breath comments like, ‘Doesn’t she work with him now? Maybe they’re more than boss and employee.’”
“And you listen to gossip?”
“Of course not. That’s why I’m asking you. Are you just Brooks’s assistant or are you more than that?”
“I’m his assistant,” she snapped. Then seeing that this was Dean, and remembering all the times she’d spent with Brooks over the past two weeks—the conversations, the lunches, the concern for his little patients, as well as his big patients, she added, “And his friend. You know how it is, Dean. You work with someone all those hours and you talk about family, friends. You become closer than just two colleagues who push papers around.”
“You’re sure this hasn’t gone beyond friends?”
“It has not.”
“I spoke with Brody. He said they all know you’re working with Brooks, though they don’t know much about him.”
“Jordyn does. She and I had a conversation about it. I don’t want my family thinking up stories about the two of us any more than I want anyone here doing it. I wish everyone would just stop worrying about my life and concentrate on their own. You’re going to be married and have a beautiful family, a wife who’s going to be a teacher here, a little girl to love. Isn’t that everything you’ve always dreamed of?”
“Yes, it is, actually. I want the same thing for you.”
“When you want it for me, it feels like angst. It feels like something I have to live up to. I want to fall into it, not live up to it. I want to follow my bliss and let it lead to my happiness.”
Dean started to smile.
“Please don’t laugh. Over the past couple of years, I’ve found that the more I tried to control my life, the less control I had. So now, here, I’m taking what comes day by day. I’m going with the flow. I’m adopting an attitude of seeing a glass more full than more empty. And good things are happening. I lucked into this job with Brooks.”
“Does it pay as much as Thunder Canyon?”
“Almost. So please stop being concerned for me, and please stop passing your concerns onto my family. I’ll talk to each one of them individually over the next few weeks. I’ll make them understand that being here is right for me.”
“You do have a new softness about you, a new mellowness. Does Brooks do that for you?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it. Does Shelby do that for you?”
“Yeah, she can, when I’ve had a bad day. Instead of being all grumpy or silent, she gets me talking and I get back on an even keel. You’re still staying at Strickland’s, right?”
“Right. Melba is giving the volunteers a good deal on rent, so I’m still saving most of what I’m earning. I’m fine, Dean.”
Brooks knocked on the bathroom door and called, “Jazzy?”
“We’re in here. It’ll soon be a crowd.”
Brooks laughed as he opened the door and saw Dean. “What do you think? Do we need to rush her to the emergency room in Kalispell?”
“Nah, I think she’ll live.”
“You two better think up a new routine,” Jazzy muttered. “Something that will make me laugh instead of cry.”
At that, they all laughed.
“Okay, I’ll take my kit and go.” Dean headed for the door.
As soon as the swinging door slapped behind him, Brooks moved closer to the sink where Jazzy stood. “All fixed up?”
“Ointment and a bandage. I’m good to go.”
“Are you? Or is the gossip a problem for you?”
“I just don’t want the wrong thing getting back to my family. I don’t want to cause them stress and worry.”
“I understand that. But you have to shut off the gossip. In a small town, it could ruin your life.” He took her hand. “We have nothing to hide, Jazzy.”
No, they didn’t. Not yet. The business relationship was front and center. But she wondered about the other part of their relationship—the heat, the quivering excitement, the pull neither of them could deny. Yet Brooks was trying to deny it. Again she wondered if that was for her sake...or for his.
“Are you still going to be able to work okay, or do you want me to take you back to Strickland’s?”
“I can work just fine.”
Brooks’s cell phone buzzed and they both glanced at the holster on his belt. “I have to get this,” he said. “It could be the clinic.”
“If you need to make a quick exit, I can get a ride home with Dean, no problem.”
“Let’s find out.” Brooks checked caller ID and frowned. “It’s Charlie Hartzell.” Brooks answered quickly. “What’s going on, Charlie?”
Jazzy watched the color drain from Brooks’s face, watched his back straighten, his shoulders square. “When did this happen?” There was a pause.
“Thank God you were there,” Brooks breathed. “I’ll head to the hospital now. I’ll meet you there.”
After Brooks clicked off his phone, he said to Jazzy, “Dad collapsed. Charlie thinks it was a heart attack. He’s on the way to the Kalispell hospital. I’ve got to get going.”
He’d already started moving and Jazzy walked after him, catching his arm. “Do you want me to go with you?”
His voice was gruff. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to, Brooks. You should have someone there...for you.”
His eyes got that deeply dark intensity that she was beginning to un
derstand meant he was experiencing deep feelings he didn’t share. All he said was, “I’d appreciate that.”
Fifteen minutes later—Brooks’s foot had been very heavy on the accelerator—they walked into the hospital, not knowing what they’d find inside.
* * *
Much later that day, Brooks and Jazzy sat in the waiting room. Charlie had left and Jazzy was glad she’d come along with Brooks so he’d have somebody with him. The lines on his face cut deep, his expression was grim and tension filled his body. She could tell when she sat next to him. She could feel it when his arm brushed hers.
Brooks suddenly muttered, “I never should have had those arguments with him. I should have stayed detached and calm.”
“He’s your father, Brooks. How can you stay detached?”
“I’ve pretty much done it the past few years, and I regret that, too. I feel so guilty about all of it. If anything happens to him—” He shook his head. “Before they took him in for the procedure, I didn’t even say what I should have.”
That he loved his dad? Those words were sometimes hard to get out, especially in an emergency situation when time was limited and medical personnel were buzzing around.
Jazzy had been part of this push to get Brooks’s new practice up and running quickly, and she felt partly responsible for everything that had happened. Maybe if they had handled it all differently, Brooks’s dad wouldn’t be in the hospital. She laid her hand on Brooks’s arm, knowing nothing she said would ease what he was feeling.
A nurse came into the room and said to Brooks, “Your father has been taken to his room. Dr. Esposito would like to see you there. Just follow me.”
Although Jazzy had stayed in the background until now, she knew it was hard to absorb everything a doctor said in this type of situation. She asked Brooks, “Do you want me to come with you?”
He didn’t hesitate. “I’d appreciate that.”
When they stepped into Barrett Smith’s room, Jazzy thought Brooks’s dad looked ten years older than he had when she’d seen him last. He was hooked up to an IV and he was scowling.
Dr. Esposito, with his wavy black hair and flashing brown eyes, glanced at Barrett’s chart and then up at the two of them. “You’re Barrett’s son?” he asked Brooks.
Brooks nodded and shook the man’s hand. The doctor glanced at Jazzy. “And she is?”
“She’s a friend of mine,” Brooks said.
The doctor eyed Barrett. “It’s up to you whether I should discuss this in front of her.”
Barrett waved his hand. “After a man goes to the hospital, nothing’s private. What’s it matter?”
“Is that permission to let her stay?” the doctor asked Barrett.
“Hell, yes,” the older man said. “Just get on with it. I want to go home.”
The doctor’s arched brows and patience said he’d seen this reaction before. “Your father experienced a myocardial infarction. Fortunately, not a severe one. We inserted a stent in a blocked artery.”
“Is that going to take care of the problem?” Brooks asked.
“It will take care of the problem for right now. We’re of course monitoring him and he’ll have to get checkups. I’ll set up a follow-up appointment when he’s released. But as I was telling your father, I believe his attack was brought on by several factors—exhaustion, overexertion and a lifestyle not conducive to heart health.”
Silence reigned in the room.
“What does he have to do to stay healthy?” Brooks asked.
“He has to change his habits if he wants to live a long life.”
“I’m here,” Barrett said. “Don’t talk to them as if I’m not. I have a veterinary practice. I eat when I can. I work because the work’s there.”
“Yes, well, that doesn’t mean you can’t make adjustments,” the doctor said. “I’ll also be putting you on medication—one is a blood thinner and the other is to help lower your cholesterol.”
“I hate taking medicine,” Barrett grumbled.
“Dad, you’ll do what the doctor says.”
Barrett crossed his arms over his chest and looked very much like a rebellious teenager.
Dr. Esposito remained passive. “I’ll be talking to your father again before he’s released, probably tomorrow. I want to monitor him overnight. I also want to set him up with a consultation with one of our nutritionists about diet.”
“I already know,” Barrett said. “It’s all over the TV and news. But I’m not going to turn into a vegetarian.”
“You don’t have to turn into a vegetarian,” the doctor protested. “But you do have to practice moderation. I’ll leave you to talk to your son.” He said to Brooks, “If you have any questions, I’ll be on this floor about another half hour or so.”
After the doctor left, Brooks said to his dad, “You have to take care of yourself. You have to let me take over the practice.”
Barrett looked up at Brooks, mutiny in his eyes. “No, I don’t. This is just a little setback. I’m not giving up my practice until you’re settled down.”
A nurse bustled into the room to check Barrett’s IV and they all went quiet. But as she began to take Barrett’s blood pressure, Barrett waved his son away. “Go! Go home. I need to rest. I’m going to be just fine.”
Brooks looked as if he wanted to go to his father, sit beside him, convince him to do what was best. But Jazzy knew Barrett was in no mood for that now. She gently touched Brooks’s elbow. “Let’s let him rest for now. We can come back.”
She could see the torn look on Brooks’s face. But when he looked at his dad and Barrett stared back defiantly, Brooks gave a resigned sigh. “All right, we’ll leave for now. But I’ll be back.”
“Famous last words,” Barrett muttered. “Go take care of your own life and let me take care of mine.”
Outside the room, Brooks stopped in the hall. He suddenly erupted, “He makes me want to put my fist through the wall.”
“You don’t need a broken hand on top of everything else,” Jazzy reminded him.
Brooks studied her, went silent, studied her again. “He’s going to die if he keeps up what he’s doing.”
“Brooks, all you can do is encourage him to do what’s healthy. You can’t do it for him.”
Brooks stared down the hall, at the nurses’ desk, at the tile floor and the clinical surroundings. Then he looked Jazzy straight in the eye. “Will you marry me?”
Chapter Seven
Jazzy gazed at Brooks in stunned silence. Her heart was tripping so fast she could hardly breathe. Had he asked her to do what she thought he asked her to do? Marry him?
“Can you repeat that?” she asked haltingly.
He ran his hand down over his face, then looked at her as if maybe he should have kept his mouth shut. “I asked you to marry me. I know you think I’m absolutely crazy.”
“No...” she started and didn’t know quite how to finish or where to go from there. All she knew was, the idea of being married to Brooks Smith made her feel as if she was on top of a Ferris wheel, toppling over the highest point. “I just wanted you to repeat it so I know I wasn’t hearing you wrong. You want to marry me?”
He took her hand in his and looked deep into her eyes. “This isn’t a joke, Jazzy. I’m not out of my mind. Really. But I need to solve this problem with my father. The only way he’s going to let me in on the practice, the only way he’s going to rest and stop wearing himself down, is if I’m really settled. I thought he was bluffing up to this point. I truly did. But he’s not. Something is making him want this for me. A rival practice seems to have made the problem worse. So I can only see one solution. I have to give him what he wants.”
“I don’t understand,” she said very quietly, his assessment not making her feel so tipsy anymore.
“He w
ants me to be married. Settled. So I need a wife. The way we’ve worked together the past week, I just know you’d be perfect.”
“So you really do want me to marry you?”
“It wouldn’t be a real marriage.”
When he said those words, she found herself amazingly disappointed. How stupid was that?
He squeezed her hand and went on. “We would stay together for a year. In exchange, I’ll deed over the land my grandmother left me. You can have the ranch you’ve always wanted, rescue horses, maybe even earn that business degree.”
Suddenly Jazzy realized she was the one who must be crazy. She didn’t want a ranch as much as she wanted a life with Brooks. She was falling for him, and she was falling hard. Working beside him for a year, living with him for a year, she’d be altogether gone. On the other hand, if they actually fell in love, maybe he’d change his mind about not wanting to stay married. On the other hand, if their relationship didn’t work out, she’d have an out.
Living with Brooks, eating breakfast with him, working in the office with him, spending evenings with him... What was she thinking?
“What would your grandmother think?”
“She would understand. She loved animals, too. And she’d be proud to watch you use it for good. She’d also understand I want Dad around as long as I can have him. Think about it, Jazzy. I’ll show you the land. It’s a great place for what you want to do. Imagine how long it would take you to save up to buy your own property.”
“I don’t even know if I could do it in ten years,” she murmured.
“Exactly. We’d both be getting just what we need out of this deal.”
The longer Jazzy looked into Brooks’s eyes, the longer he told her all the reasons this would work, the more she believed him. She thought about his dad in that hospital bed and how this fake marriage could possibly set his mind at ease. Really, they’d be saving his life.
“Maybe you should think about this a little while,” she said.
“I don’t need to think about it. I’m not usually an impulsive person, but when I see the solution to a problem, then I take it. You’re my solution, Jazzy. We can make this work. We like each other. We respect each other. We’d look at this as a partnership.”
Marrying Dr. Maverick Page 8
