Submitting to the Doctor (Cowboy Doms Book 7)

by BJ Wane

  Mitchell arched a brow as he handed her her coat and reached for his. “I see you’re as happy about leaving as I am about getting my place back to myself.”

  Lillian paused in pulling on her gloves. “It’s not that I’m not grateful. But last night, well,” she struggled for what to say and he didn’t offer to help. Jerking on her glove, her frustration came through as she grumbled, “It was just the tense circumstances, not like either one of us wants a repeat.”

  “No, we definitely wouldn’t want that,” he murmured, the look on his face indiscernible. “Let’s go.”

  He took her hand and didn’t let go as they left the warmth of the cabin and traversed through the knee-high snow toward the woods separating them from the road. Halfway through the trees, they spotted the blinking yellow lights on a large snowplow truck and the swirling blue strobe of the county sheriff’s cruiser.

  Mitchell squeezed her hand and gazed down at her, frowning as those observant eyes roamed over her still bruised face. “You need to stop at a clinic and get checked again in a few days, just to ensure your ribs are healing. I hope you’re planning on staying as far away from whoever hurt you as possible.”

  Lillian nodded, glad he hadn’t pestered her for details these past few days. “Don’t worry, we’re done for good.” With Liana gone, there was nothing left for Brad to blackmail her with.

  “Good to know.” He tugged her forward, lifting a hand in a wave and Lillian saw a tall man wearing a Stetson, a toothpick nestled in the corner of his mouth return the greeting.

  It wasn’t until they crossed the now packed-down, snow encrusted road and were within a few feet of the man that she noticed the law enforcement stenciling on his leather jacket. Beneath the lowered brim of his hat, the sheriff’s gray/green gaze turned flinty as he zeroed in on her bruised face. He pinned those anger swirling eyes on Mitchell so fast, Lillian shifted toward her host in an unconscious show of support.

  “Explain,” the sheriff demanded, his tone short and clipped.

  Mitchell shrugged. “She came that way. I’ve checked her over.”

  Irritated with the show of machoism, she yanked her arm out of Mitchell’s hold and ground out, “She’s right here and can answer for herself.”

  With a wry twist of his lips, Mitchell drawled, “Sheriff Grayson Monroe, this is Lillian…” He paused and lifted a brow.

  For the first time in as long as she could remember, Lillian grew warm from embarrassment as Grayson’s stern look changed to one of amusement. It was mortifying to realize she’d just spent over two days with a man and an hour last night with his hands all over her naked body, his fingers deep inside her, and they knew very little about each other. She hadn’t even given him her last name. She’d never indulged in casual sex and still couldn’t fathom what had gotten into her last night. The temptation to accept the temporary diversion from her grief he’d offered in his deep, seductive voice had been impossible to resist.

  “Gillespie,” she said, holding out her hand to the sheriff as the plow truck driver joined them.

  Grayson took her hand, holding onto to her as he asked, “Ma’am. Is the person responsible for those bruises from around here?”

  The other man scowled as he noticed her face. “No. I left him in Utah.” Turning to the truck driver, she asked, “Am I good to go?”

  “’Fraid not, ma’am. I’ve got you dug out, but you’ve got a broken axle. I’ve called the shop in Willow Springs and Mort’s son, Andy is on his way with the tow truck. Don’t you worry none.” The burly man reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “Mort’ll get you up and running in no time.”

  Lillian’s shoulders slumped. She’d been hoping to get back on the road again. She wasn’t far enough away from her memories to suit her yet. “How long will it take, do you think?”

  The sheriff nudged his hat back and blew out a white puff of breath. “I know he’s backed up with this weather causing several mishaps. You can get your things out of your car and I’ll take you to the motel, then you can give Mort a call.”

  “Come on, I’ll help you,” Mitchell offered.

  At least she wouldn’t be stuck at his cabin any longer, she mused as the three of them tromped to her car. With the men insisting they could get everything, including her artwork and supplies, she was left to stand aside and watch them transfer her belongings to the back of the SUV cruiser. It would be good to change clothes and lose herself in painting again, provided her oils were still usable after being frozen. At least being stranded this time around she would have something to pass the time besides trying to figure out how Dr. Mitchell Hoffstetter could arouse her to such a degree when she found him so bossy and irritating.

  Taking a deep breath as the last of her things were loaded in the cruiser, she turned to Mitchell with her hand out, which seemed lame after the orgasms he’d given her just a few hours earlier. “Thank you for everything. I owe you.”

  “Maybe I’ll collect if you’re in town long enough. If you’re still there when I return at the end of the week, come by the clinic next Monday. It wouldn’t hurt to get those ribs x-rayed.”

  Lillian nodded with no intention of looking him up.

  Salt Lake City

  “I don’t fucking understand you.” Bryan McCabe took a long draw on his cigarette, glaring at his much younger brother as anger toward the woman who had gone ballistic on Brad warred with concern over his little brother’s blurred vision and dizzy spells. If Brad’s health was bad enough to keep him home from the hospital for a third day in a row, then it was time for him to get himself checked by another physician other than himself. “You need to let me drive you to the hospital and then go after that bitch. It’s not right to let her get away with ambushing and assaulting you.” He still couldn’t believe the polite, rather meek woman he’d met one time had turned on Brad in a fit of jealousy before taking off, but Brad’s injury was real, and potentially debilitating if he continued to be so stubborn about getting checked.

  “I said no and put out that damn cigarette.” Brad leaned his head back on the sofa and closed his eyes. “She’s not a threat to me. The only reason she got in this one good whack,” he waved a hand at his bandaged forehead, “was because I wasn’t prepared for her to go at me like that. I should have let her down easier when I said I wanted her to move out. Her possessiveness was just one of the things that had grown tiresome about our relationship.”

  That wasn’t surprising, Bryan thought, inhaling another deep, nicotine rush. Brad had a way about him that drew women. Between his elevated status as one of the top surgeons in the city and reputation as a much sought-after eligible bachelor, it was no wonder Lillian Gillespie had fallen hard and fast for his brother. But that was no excuse for laying into him, catching him unaware as he had returned home after asking her to pack up and leave.

  “I don’t give a shit about her hurt feelings. She committed a crime, Brad, and I want her charged.” Bryan gave in to Brad’s pointed glare and stubbed out the offending smoke in a dish his brother left on the end table just for him. Folding his arms, he leaned against the fireplace mantle in front of the sofa. His only sibling and family deserved this big, fancy house and all the adulation heaped upon him for the lives he saved. Of the two of them, he was the smartest and the most driven. There was a ten-year gap in their ages, and after their single mother had passed away when Brad was eleven, Bryan had willingly moved back into their mother’s house to finish raising him. From the first time school bullies had picked on Brad, he had looked out for him, stood up for him and made it a point to always be there when he needed him.

  In Bryan’s opinion, little brother needed his interference in this matter, whether he wanted to admit it or not. As a cop, he was privy to resources that would provide him with the means to charge Lillian. All he had to do was track her down.

  “Again, no, now let it go. I don’t want to see her hurt.” Brad opened his eyes and returned Bryan’s glare. “Come on, bro. I’ve got a mild concu
ssion. Trust me, I would know if it was anything worse than that. She got in a lucky wallop and I didn’t dodge fast enough. Let it go. I already have,” he insisted.

  Pushing away from the fireplace, he dropped his arms with a scowl. “I will, for now, but if you’re not up and about like normal soon, I’ll revisit the idea of arresting her sorry ass.” Pivoting, he stalked across the gleaming marbled floor and snatched his coat off a coat tree in the entry. Calling back, he said, “I’ll be back after my shift.”

  Brad winced as his brother slammed the front door behind him. Damn Bryan’s overprotectiveness and Lillian’s conniving. He had gone cold when she’d tossed out that shocking revelation of having documented her bruises. He knew exactly where to hit, and how hard to deliver the most painful impact without causing internal damage. Until he’d come home and found her packed up and ready to walk out of his life again, he’d been careful not to leave bruises where anyone could see them. Given the fear he’d instilled in her regarding her precious, comatose sister, he never doubted she would rat him out to anyone.

  Bryan wouldn’t believe her without proof, he was too busy playing the saintly big brother to see what was right in front of him. Brad’s high intellect put him in the category of god status, and damned if he didn’t like it there. No woman had ever left him; he was always the one to end things. He’d been shocked when Lillian had broken off with him the first time they were together, and fucking pissed since he’d already decided she would make the perfect trophy wife. As an artist, he’d never seen better and with his connections, he could have taken her career higher.

  He chuckled now, thinking about how the perfect opportunity to get her back had landed in his lap with Liana’s aneurysm. It wouldn’t have bothered him in the least to cause that girl untold suffering if Lillian had tested his blackmail threats since Liana’s dislike of him had contributed to Lillian ending their relationship the first time. He hadn’t counted on the stupid bitch up and dying, at least not that soon.

  “Well, it doesn’t matter now,” he muttered, pushing to his feet. The room spun in circles, fast enough to force him to sit back down and put his head between his knees. Fuck but he would give anything to make her pay for laying him so low. Too bad those pictures she’d taken ensured he wouldn’t take his revenge on her. No woman was worth losing his stellar reputation or status in the city over.

  He just hoped he got over this concussion soon and that Bryan would cool down and forget about going after her.

  Lillian sipped the piping hot coffee the motel manager had delivered first thing that morning, the same as yesterday and the day before. She’d already devoured the Danish he’d added this time. She sighed, gazing at the trash filled with the paints that were too lumpy to keep, which was most of them. They’d thawed out after twenty-four hours but only a few were still usable. Frustrated at the loss and with being holed up in the small town of Willow Springs’ only motel for three days, she looked out the window at the fields of solid white. There was no denying the pristine view of distant, snow-capped mountains and the trees that stayed green year-round with icicles hanging off their limbs. So much open space; what the heck do people do out here?

  She’d ventured out on foot yesterday for a walk and to snap a few pictures to paint from. The roads were cleared and the downtown district wasn’t far off, but the biting cold had deterred her from making the trek toward the clump of buildings. Too bad nothing had worked to keep her mind from replaying that late night, foolish scene with her less-than-welcoming cabin host. Doc Mitchell hadn’t been rude or made her unplanned stay uncomfortable. On the contrary, he had made her as comfortable as he could even though he hadn’t disguised his annoyance with having his solitary sojourn interrupted. She appreciated his help but his bossiness irritated her. She was grateful for the free medical check and advice that had given her peace of mind but berating her for pushing herself had rubbed her the wrong way. Grief accounted for her irresponsibility in neglecting to get her injuries checked, but she’d believed, and was right, they weren’t life-threatening.

  And what did she care about the relief in the good doctor’s hazel eyes when the sheriff had hustled her into his cruiser and Mitchell waved goodbye? Just because the man had taken her to exalted heights of ecstasy she’d never achieved before, or even thought possible, was no reason for his rugged face to keep popping up or for her to continue recalling how her nipples would peak from the deep rumble of his commanding voice.

  I need to get away from here, that’s all. Yes, that was all there was to the frustration of sitting here idly daydreaming about a man she knew little about except his touch could set her off like a firecracker. Stress, grief and anger were powerful motivators for succumbing to a virtual stranger she wasn’t sure she even liked, but that was over and she was more than ready to put him and this place behind her.

  The problem was, where to next? And, how far would she have to travel to escape the painful memories she’d left behind? Lillian missed her sister with a deep-rooted ache. She’d thought the six weeks Liana had lain in a coma had prepared Lillian for never hearing her voice again, but she’d thought wrong. She still found herself reaching for the phone to make their daily call. They’d been as close as twins could be yet had respected each other’s need for space and forging their own path in life.

  Liana hadn’t hesitated in supporting Lillian’s initial break with Brad; her sister had never warmed up to him. Thank God Liana had never gotten wind of how crazy possessive he was. At least her comatose state spared her the knowledge of his depraved blackmail and the degrading lengths Lillian had been willing to accept to spare her pain.

  A rap on the door roused her from her melancholy. The motel manager called out, “It’s Bob from the front desk, Ms. Gillespie.”

  Opening the door, Lillian handed the white-haired man her empty coffee cup and plate. “Thank you so much.”

  “No problem. I’m leaving in about fifteen minutes, if you’d like to get out a spell I can give you a lift to our business square. There are some small shops, a tea café that is popular, the diner and the library, all within easy walking around. I figured you might be getting cabin fever, holed up in here for so long.”

  “I’d love that.” Anything to take her mind off missing her sister. Bob always eyed her fading bruises with a tight look of disapproval, his concern both unsettling and warming. A bit like her response to Mitchell’s same reaction upon first gazing at her face. “Just let me grab my coat and I’ll head over to the office.”

  He nodded. “See you in a few minutes. Don’t forget gloves, and a hat if you have one.”

  The fatherly advice was unnecessary, but nonetheless, appreciated. With her whole family now gone, Lillian embraced the older man’s solicitude. She didn’t have a hat but would be warm enough in her thigh-length, lined coat and gloves. Enduring a little cold was worth it for the chance at something to do. Funny, she mused as she trekked toward the idling car in front of the motel office, the boredom and close confines of staying in the doc’s cabin hadn’t gotten under her skin like these past days in the motel had. At least she would be spared an awkward moment of meeting up with Mitchell again today since he was enjoying his solitude now she was out of his hair.

  Bob pulled in front of the Willow Springs library, housed in a renovated, hundred-year-old building. The quaint town square was something out of a history book; only the touches of modern-day advances such as the streetlamps and center fountain ensured first-time visitors they hadn’t stepped back in time. The city offices and sheriff’s precinct were in the two-story, all brick building next to the library, and she recalled the sexy, toothpick chewing lawman whose penetrating looks had given her shivers of awareness that he was not a man to cross. She didn’t fear him, in fact, didn’t fear any man, not even Brad at his worst. But, like Mitchell, Grayson Monroe had commanded her attention with just a look and a few words, something she wasn’t used to.

  “You tell Willa I dropped you off. She’ll help yo
u find what you like and can point you in the right direction of any shops you might want to visit. I have your number. I’ll check with you in a little while, see if you need a lift back.”

  “That’s nice of you, but I don’t want to put you out. It’s not that far of a walk.” She couldn’t imagine any other motel manager going to such lengths for a guest.

  “On a nice day, it’s doable, but not in the winter. I’m already in town. It’s no imposition.”

  “Then thank you.”

  Even though there were several books on her reader Lillian hadn’t gotten to yet, she liked the idea of killing time by searching for a title or two in paperback. The building even smelled old, she reflected as she stepped inside and spotted the eighty-something librarian behind the check-out counter. Always before, she had Liana to recommend books and compare their likes and dislikes with. It was her sister who turned Lillian into an avid reader, and as she walked toward the counter, her stomach cramped from another painful reminder of her loss.

  “Good morning. Are you all right, dear?” The older woman shuffled toward her with a frown of concern.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” Lillian rushed to assure her as a short brunette wearing wide, dark-framed glasses approached the desk carrying several books. She waved an airy hand around her face, remembering the now sickly shades of yellow and green her bruises had faded into. “This mishap occurred several days ago. I’m only in town a few more days while my car’s getting fixed. Would a temporary library card be possible?”

  The brunette set her books down and swiveled to look at Lillian with a surprised expression that switched to curiosity. “You must be Doc’s stranded guest. Hi, I’m Avery Monroe, the sheriff’s wife.” She held out a hand and her coat fell open to reveal a small baby bump.