The Doctor's Runaway Fiancée

by Cindy Kirk

  “What is difficult to believe?” he repeated.

  He wasn’t going to let this go, she knew. And she’d brought this upon herself by tossing out such a cryptic comment.

  Because he stood so close, Sylvie turned slightly then lifted her hand to gently pat his cheek. “It’s difficult for me to believe that what is good in my life at one moment isn’t going to turn bad in the next.”

  Chapter Eleven

  By the time Friday rolled around, Andrew realized he was no closer to cracking the mystery that was Sylvie Thorne than he’d been when his plane landed in Jackson Hole. The one thing he’d learned was she had incredible stamina.

  After a couple of days of getting up at three, he’d been ready to tell her to go ahead without him. He could sleep in and they could be together after she’d made her deliveries. Pride wouldn’t let him take that easy way out.

  Andrew had to admit the woman had a strong work ethic. And she truly had a knack for baking. Her real love definitely was cakes. The more leeway she was given in the creation, the more she appeared to enjoy the process.

  So, in a way he had come to know her a little better. Her remark about expecting things that were going good to turn bad still nagged at him. As he pushed the door open and stepped into Hill of Beans, he found himself trying to put the puzzle pieces together in his head.

  She was with her friend Josie now. The wedding was in two weeks and the bridesmaids were getting together with the bride-to-be for lunch at M. K. Fisher’s house. Someone named Lexie Delacourt was responsible for the food, but Sylvie had insisted on making the cake.

  Early in the week, she’d fretted—there was no other word for it—over the design. She wanted it to be something light and fun that would reflect Noah and Josie’s courtship. Andrew had chuckled when he saw the finished product.

  Apparently Josie had once mentioned she loved flamingos. The result was a flamingo-inspired cake complete with the bird on top wearing a tiny veil.

  After making the deliveries, they’d gone back to the house so she could get ready for the party. Andrew’s mother had been very social, and he couldn’t count the number of society luncheons she’d attended.

  He’d been unable to hide his surprise when Sylvie came out of her bedroom—the room right next to his—wearing a straight skirt and a simple sleeveless top. No pearls or other jewelry. No heels.

  Though he didn’t say a word, she could now read his expressions with pinpoint accuracy. She smiled. “This isn’t Boston.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” He forced an innocent look that, of course, didn’t fool her.

  “The instant you saw me, you were thinking this would not be appropriate in Boston.”

  How could he deny it? Besides, they had promised to keep it honest. “My mother and even my sister always looked like they were going to a fashion show.”

  “That’s the great thing about life in Wyoming.” Sylvie glanced at her phone, then had sat down, apparently deciding she had some time to kill. “It’s more relaxed. Mitzi will be there. She’s as likely to show up in a pair of skinny jeans as a dress. Cassidy Duggan—you may have seen her at the barbecue—well, you never know what she’s going to show up wearing.”

  The smile that lifted Sylvie’s lips eased some of Andrew’s worry. He always thought she looked beautiful; he just hadn’t wanted her to feel awkward.

  “I’m a part of this community,” she said.

  “In a way you never did in Boston.”

  He half expected her to disagree, though he knew if she did it would be a lie. At the few events they’d attended together, he’d sensed her unease. Though, at least in his earshot, everyone had been friendly and polite, she’d been an outsider in a social circle that prized connections. Not only hadn’t she attended Miss Porter’s or gone on to Mount Holyoke, but her family had zero social standing.

  Even her award-winning cake designs weren’t something that was readily admired. He couldn’t imagine any of the Beacon Hill matrons serving a cake with a skull or a flamingo.

  “I need to dash.”

  Andrew didn’t know what to think when she leaned over and brushed a kiss across his cheek, before leaving.

  He could have stayed home, but after a half hour decided to get out and go...somewhere. Andrew ended up at Hill of Beans.

  If his friends in Boston could see him now, spending time in a coffee shop with yellow stars in the window... Even as the thought made his lips quirk up, he lifted a hand in greeting to Cole Lassiter. Yes, his friends would be shocked to see how he was spending the last weeks before assuming the COO position at O’Shea Sports.

  They’d never understood why he’d gone to medical school, why he’d practiced medicine instead of moving up the ranks at the family company. Especially after his brother, who’d been groomed for that top spot, had been killed in a car accident.

  Andrew pulled his thoughts back to the present. As he stepped to the counter, he eyed the bake case, pleased to see that Cole’s customers had made a visible dent in the baked goods he and Sylvie had dropped off that morning.

  “In the mood for some lunch or is it just coffee today?” Cole asked.

  “I’ll have a—” Andrew studied the menu board “—chicken salad on wheat.”

  “I’ll get it for him.” Amber smiled at Andrew, then turned toward the back counter.

  “Thanks, Amber.” Cole studied Andrew for a moment. “Got big plans for the afternoon?”

  “Not really,” Andrew said, embarrassed by the admission.

  “Interested in checking out the clinic?” Cole asked. “I was going to stop over there for a few minutes and make sure everything is ready for tomorrow’s grand opening.”

  “I’d like to see it.” Andrew accepted the sandwich, ordered an iced tea to go with it. But when he pulled out his credit card, he was surprised when Cole waved away payment.

  “It’s on me.” Cole grinned. “I’m feeling generous today.”

  Cole pulled up a chair and kept Andrew company while he ate. Then they rode together out to the highway.

  “I see you’ve got Ethel today,” Cole commented as he climbed into the van.

  “Ethel?”

  “Mary Karen Fisher—she’s the one hosting the luncheon today—she gave this very same van that name years ago.” Cole sniffed the air. “Sure does smell good in here.”

  Andrew nodded and fastened his seat belt. The van might be on its last legs, but because of all the bakery products it hauled every day, he doubted there was a sweeter-smelling car in all of Jackson Hole. “Back to Ethel.”

  “Oh, yeah. Well, when Mary Karen was expecting baby number five...or was it six? Anyway, they traded in Ethel and got a new Odyssey.” Cole grinned. “It went through a couple of owners in the meantime, but when Sylvie showed up driving it, we recognized Ethel immediately.”

  “You seem to know everyone in Jackson Hole,” Andrew commented.

  “I grew up here, run a business here, as does my wife.” Cole’s tone was matter-of-fact. “I’d say between us, we know a considerable number of people.”

  “Sylvie likes it here.” There was a hint of bitterness in Andrew’s tone he didn’t quite understand.

  “What’s not to like?” The coffee magnate grinned and then pointed. “Turn at the next light to the left. We can park around back.”

  Andrew maneuvered the van into the turn lane and stopped, waiting for the green. Though the traffic appeared heavier than it had the past few days, it was nothing compared to I-93. Oddly, while he’d always enjoyed the fast pace, he found he didn’t miss it. Or hadn’t, he qualified. Give him three weeks and he might be yearning for a good old-fashioned traffic snarl.

  The light changed and in seconds he wheeled the van around back, pulling in between two recently painted white lines. The building w
as attractive with its cream-colored stucco and beltline stone facade. Bushes and flowers flanked the perimeter.

  As he strolled up, Andrew took note of the quality construction. Whoever built it hadn’t gone overboard, but neither had they scrimped. The result was a building built to last, one that would survive the harsh winters, the driving rains and vicious winds off the Tetons. “Who was the builder?”

  He wasn’t sure why he asked; it wasn’t like he was in the market for a contractor, but he was curious.

  “Joel Dennes.” Cole pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket. “You met him at Ben and Poppy’s barbecue.”

  Andrew was this close to telling Cole he’d met a lot of people at that party when an image of a rugged man with a deep voice and stern features popped into his head. “Was he the one whose wife is the pediatrician?”

  “That’d be Kate. Yep, that’s the one.” Cole stuck the key he’d been searching for into the lock, then pulled the door open, motioning Andrew inside.

  That everything was new and shiny was his first impression. Even the linoleum floor had been polished to a high sheen. Though Andrew preferred the look of wood, he understood the choice of floor tile. Bodily fluids would be easy to clean up on such a surface.

  “You were a personal doctor to the rich,” Cole commented, flipping on more lights.

  “I was a concierge physician,” Andrew qualified, refusing to become defensive. “My patients wanted a doctor they could call anytime. They knew when they went into the hospital I’d be the one they’d see, not some hospitalist.”

  “That’s what I said,” Cole said with a grin. “Doctor to the rich.”

  Andrew shook his head and laughed.

  “Do you miss the variety?”

  Following Cole down the hall, looking into exam rooms and conference rooms, admiring the new radiology equipment and treatment rooms, he gave the question more consideration than his guide likely expected.

  “Sometimes,” Andrew admitted. “Although my practice gave me the flexibility to also be involved in the family business.”

  They both turned at the sound of a door opening.

  “What kind of business is that?” Cole asked as his gaze focused down the main hallway.

  “O’Shea Sports.” Andrew couldn’t recall the last time he’d had to explain about the business. Back in Boston, the O’Shea family was well-known.

  “No way.” Cole might have said more, likely would have said more, but at that moment the women stepped into view.

  Women, as in Sylvie and two friends. One must have been Cole’s wife, Meg, if the hug and kiss he gave her was an indication. The public display of such affection was foreign, but unlike his parents, Andrew didn’t find it distasteful or unseemly.

  Meg was tall and willowy with a mass of auburn hair and a face sprinkled with freckles. Her wide mouth held humor, and her eyes had sparkled the instant she spotted her husband. Josie Campbell, the bride-to-be, watched Meg and Cole with an understanding expression on her face.

  Sylvie’s gaze had gone instantly to Andrew.

  He smiled and she crossed the waiting room to him, Josie at her side.

  “I take it your luncheon has concluded?” he asked, widening his smile to include Josie.

  “I hadn’t seen the clinic since it was complete.” Josie answered before Sylvie had a chance to speak. “Meg offered to show us around.”

  “I was surprised to see the van outside.” Though Sylvie didn’t look overly happy to see him, he sensed she wasn’t bothered by his presence.

  Andrew supposed he should take that as a positive. After all, had he really expected her to move into his arms like Meg had done with Cole? “I was at Hill of Beans grabbing some lunch and Cole asked if I wanted a tour.”

  “What do you think?” The husky voice had Andrew glancing to his right. Meg Lassiter extended her hand and introductions were exchanged.

  “It has everything a doctor needs.” Andrew thought of the clinics in various church basements. “Back in Boston I helped out in what we called ‘pop-up’ clinics. We were lucky to have an exam table. Compared to those places, this is the Ritz.”

  “We’ll have to discuss those clinics sometime in more detail. What other communities are doing to meet the needs of the working poor are of real interest to me and many others in Jackson Hole.” Meg pushed a hand back through her thick, curly hair, and he saw in her eyes the same passion he’d seen in Sylvie’s whenever she mentioned creating a special cake. “But I promised Josie and Sylvie a tour. I’ve got a therapy scheduled in an hour, so the clock is ticking.”

  “I can show them around, Meg,” Cole offered.

  Josie exchanged a glance with Sylvie.

  “Fine with me,” Sylvie said.

  “Let me show you the therapy area, real quick.” Meg grabbed Josie’s hand. “There’s even a space eventually for a massage table. Right now we just have a chair.”

  “It’s a good start.” Josie followed Meg down the hall.

  Sylvie glanced around. “This place is really nice.”

  “Since you’re pressed for time now,” Andrew said, “perhaps we can all get together another time. I’d be happy to tell you all you want to know.”

  “Noah and I want to come, too,” Josie said. “I’m interested.”

  Meg cocked her head, her gaze settling on Sylvie. “Book club is next Tuesday at my house. If we can get Sylvie to agree to come, that’d be a good time.”

  Andrew frowned. This conversation was jumping around so much, he was having difficulty keeping up. “Book club?”

  “I’ll explain later. Just put Tuesday night in your calendar.” Cole leaned over and brushed a kiss across his wife’s lips. “See you soon.”

  Meg gave him a wink, told her friends goodbye and sauntered off.

  After the tour, Josie ended up taking Cole back downtown while Sylvie climbed into the van with Andrew.

  Sylvie waited to speak until he’d wheeled the van in the direction of Spring Gulch and the house that Andrew was beginning to think of as home. “That’s a nice setup they have there.”

  “State-of-the-art equipment.” Andrew cast a sideways glance. “This is really a progressive community. I see why you like it here.”

  She relaxed back against the worn seat back. “It feels like home.”

  “Tell me what home was like for you.”

  She shot him a puzzled look, waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve told you all that before.”

  That was only partially the truth. Sylvie had told him the area of south Boston where she’d lived until fourth grade. She’d told him her father left when she was four and her mother took off when she was thirteen. He knew she’d found herself in foster care until she aged out. He’d tried to get her to tell him more about those times, but when she deflected the questions, he’d respected what he saw as her need for privacy.

  Now Andrew wondered if that concern for her privacy had been a cop-out. It had hurt to think of the life she’d once led. Perhaps he didn’t want to be reminded of it. The problem was, to know her, he needed to know her secrets.

  “Tell me about what you remember when your father left.” It was only the first of many questions he planned to ask. Discovering what made her tick was what this trip was all about. And Andrew wasn’t leaving until he knew all of Sylvie’s secrets.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sylvie wished she’d insisted Josie drive her home. But even as the thought crossed her mind she realized this might be the perfect opportunity. After she shared more about her background, if Andrew couldn’t see just how unsuitable they were for each other, well, then he didn’t want to see.

  But she didn’t want to share those painful memories in the car. Neither did she want to do it over dinner or pretending to relax with a glass of wine. “Stop the car.”<
br />
  He didn’t quite slam on the brakes, but she did jerk forward in her seat as he wheeled the van to the side of the road and shifted into Park. “What’s wrong?”

  The worry in his eyes matched the concern in his voice. His gaze anxiously searched hers.

  “I’m fine.” The way her heart raced at his intense scrutiny made it a less-than-honest response, but she wanted to reassure him. “I want to walk.”

  Andrew sat back, stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “You want to walk home?”

  “No.” Sylvie gave a little laugh, which sounded strained even to her own ears. “I just want to...walk.”

  He glanced down the busy ribbon of concrete. “Along the highway?”

  “Hardly.” She gave a halfhearted chuckle. “If we walk on the roadside, everyone will think the van broke down and want to give us a ride.”

  “If you say so.” The puzzlement remained on his face. “If not down the road, where is it exactly you want to walk?”

  She gestured off to the right, to a relatively flat span of ground made up primarily of dirt and scrubby plants. The mountains loomed far in the distance.

  She saw his gaze drop to her shoes. Okay, they weren’t hiking boots, but they were flat and comfortable. “I need to get out and move.”

  His gaze searched her and he shrugged. “Lead the way.”

  After a couple of minutes, Sylvie stumbled across a dirt trail of sorts winding its way through the brush. She wasn’t sure what to think when Andrew took her hand but found the support steadied her.

  “Any memories of my parents together were of them fighting.” She kept her gaze focused straight ahead. “When he left, things were...quieter.”

  His fingers tightened around hers, but Andrew remained silent.

  “It took me a while—quite a while, in fact—to realize that the man with the red hair who sometimes lifted me high in his arms to touch the ceiling was never coming back.” She lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “Though there was no more loud arguments, my mother was so angry. She bad-mouthed him all the time.”