by Fiona Lowe
Shit. Just thinking about it kicked his heart rate up again. He was intimate with his sexual triggers and they’d been the same for as long as he could remember—sexy lingerie, tight little black dresses, pencil-straight skirts and fitted jackets. Corporate wear. The clothes Ashley wore.
Katrina didn’t wear clothes like that. No one in Bear Paw did, and yet here he was getting hard without a single trigger in sight. Nothing in this town was familiar or as he’d expected it to be. In a desperate attempt to make sense of this unwanted attraction, he was putting it down to dislocation madness. Added to that, he thought she’d just said she wanted to teach him to fish.
He rubbed his jaw. “Yeah, look, Katrina, is that some kind of a Montana thing, because really, I’m not interested.”
She shook her head. “I mean, I’ll teach you how to do the stuff like finding a stud and hanging a painting.”
An image of her standing next to him with her scent swirling around him and him in a constant state of being hard and telling his body to heel had him dropping his leg back down onto the floor. He stood up. “That’s really not necessary.”
Her stance widened. “Oh, it really is. If word gets out you can’t unclog a drain, you’re not going to get any respect in town.”
“I’m not a fricking plumber. I’m a doctor!”
She stood her ground at his raised voice and gave him her you’re clueless look. “You’re a man first, Josh, and in Bear Paw that counts for everything. No self-respecting cowboy is going to come see you if they find out you can’t do some basic home maintenance chores.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “That’s ridiculous.”
A slight frown marred her forehead. “Exactly how many men between twenty and fifty came to see you at the clinic this week?”
“I don’t keep a mental record.”
“Ballpark.”
He thought back. He’d seen a lot of seniors who’d told him how Randall had always done things and had then questioned every piece of medical advice he’d given them. He’d seen a couple of reluctant teens who’d been brought in by their mothers. They’d sat silently through his explanations and had avoided all eye contact. The rest had been women and children.
She must have seen the realization on his face. “None, right? It’s so hard to get men to see a physician, and out here, guys are toughing it out. Montana has one of the highest suicide rates in the country, so it’s your duty as a doctor to be able to relate to these men. If you learn some basic skills, then you can hold your own in a conversation at the big boy’s shed.”
Talking with Katrina was like being on a slippery slope and not being able to get a foothold. “What the hell is the big boy’s shed?”
“The hardware store.”
“The hardware store? I don’t think so. If patients want to see me, they come to the clinic.”
“Yes, but if they don’t see you around town and get to know you, they’re going to hold off coming to see you.”
He hated that her logic made a certain crazy sense, given his less-than-enthusiastic welcome from the townsfolk. “I swear to God, I’ve come to the twilight zone.”
“Just small-town America, which is the heart and soul of this great country of ours.” She unclipped her tool belt, revealing her firm, toned thighs that matched her compact body.
Glorious legs.
He hauled his gaze upward and he’d just finished telling himself they were short legs and he much preferred long ones when he caught sight of her narrow waist and generous breasts. The memory of them pressed up against him had heat burning through him, and he moved his gaze again, quickly seeking her face. Aiming for a nonsexual part of her. A safety zone.
Green eyes watched him intently from behind those square glasses—glasses that gave her a sexy gravitas. Hot damn, but there was nowhere safe to look.
“Come on,” she said. “There’s no time like the present.”
He cleared his throat, buying time so when he spoke he wouldn’t sound like a horny teen. “For what?”
“To go to Addison’s and buy, among other things, a plunger, pliers and a pocket knife. You can drive.” She flicked some keys out of her pocket and threw them at him.
He shot his arm out sideways, catching them, and he immediately tossed them back to her. “I have a car.”
She threw them straight at him again. “We’re aiming for street-cred, Josh. Drive the truck.”
Sexy or not, her “I know best” manner irritated the hell out of him and sarcasm broke through. “If I’m impressing cowboys, shouldn’t I be riding a horse?”
Her very kissable lips tweaked upward. “That comes later.”
Damn it, but he knew her well enough to know she wasn’t kidding.
Chapter 6
Overworked physician, tapped out nurse, missing receptionist, grumpy patients. Please bring coffee when you can. Order coming. Millie x
Katrina half smiled and half grimaced at the text on her phone. It sounded like Millie and Josh were having a heck of a morning. She hadn’t seen Josh in almost a week. Not since their field trip to the hardware store and their first lesson of basic home maintenance 101. The visit to the store had gone better than she’d expected. In his khakis, oxford shirt and suede shoes, he’d stood out from the flannel-shirted tradesmen and the western-shirted cowboys, but he’d shaken the hand of every guy he’d been introduced to and had accepted their unsolicited advice on tools.
She’d been surprised and impressed. She had brothers and she knew how hard they found it to take advice from anyone. She wasn’t at all surprised, however, when he’d bought the most powerful and expensive cordless drill in the store. He might lack tool knowledge but he had the Y chromosome that loved power in all things.
Under her instructions, he’d used it to hang the last door and he’d wanted to use it to insert picture hooks into the wall until she’d removed the drill and handed him a hammer. Part of her wondered how many random holes she was going to find when she next visited. The one good thing about that afternoon was she’d discovered that by focusing on teaching him, she’d put a stop to her body’s lust-fest. She’d been able to show him how to do a variety of odd jobs and not once had she dropped anything or caused him any harm. Most importantly, the unwanted desire that her body had indulged in on the sofa hadn’t returned. All in all, it had been a win-win afternoon.
So how do you account for the X-rated dreams?
Thankfully, her phone beeped again with the clinic’s coffee order, saving her from having to answer her subconscious.
Fifteen minutes later, when her shift ended, Katrina walked into the clinic holding a cardboard drink carrier. Apart from the pale blue paint on the walls, it looked pretty much the same as it had when she’d worked here before she’d run off to explore the world beyond Montana.
Bethany Jacobs, a waiting patient, immediately pointed an accusing elbow crutch at her. “They don’t have time to stop for coffee. I’ve been waiting almost an hour already. Randall would—”
“Have kept you waiting just as long,” Katrina said, cutting off the complaint. She knew too well how it only took one emergency to throw a day out completely. She also knew people coped better if they knew what to expect. “I’ll take these coffees back and try to find out how much longer the wait will be.”
She found the nurse practitioner crouched down in front of the drug refrigerator, muttering to herself.
“I bring coffee.”
Millie looked up and put her hand on her heart. “You’re a lifesaver.”
Katrina laughed. “If only it were that easy.”
Josh backed out from behind a curtain talking. “Millie, can you make an appointment for Bailey’s cast check and—” He suddenly paused mid-glove-strip with his foot on the trash can pedal. “Katrina?” His dark gaze flicked over her from top to toe.
Her body gave a collective sigh on the back of a jolt of heat.
The bin lid closed with a clang. “Why are you here? Are you sick?”<
br />
His terse words centered her. He was looking at you diagnostically. Stop being pathetic and get yourself under control. “Coffee run. Millie sent out a mercy call.” She passed him a cup after he’d dried his hands, being careful to avoid any accidental touching of fingers or backs of hands.
He shot Millie an easy smile. “And that’s why you’re my favorite nurse practitioner.”
Millie rolled her eyes and grabbed her coffee. “I’m your only nurse practitioner and I want to move to the ER full-time. Sweet-talking me isn’t going to work. I’m not doing my job and being receptionist, too.”
“Where’s Amber?” Katrina asked, thinking about the rumblings in the waiting room.
“We’re not totally sure,” Millie said, “but there’s a rumor she left town last night with the lead guitarist from the band that played at Leroy’s. I could understand it if he’d been any good, but he really wasn’t.”
“And she chose a hell of day to do it,” Josh said. “It’s not even ten thirty and we’ve had a broken arm, an episode of chest pain and an asthma attack.” He downed his coffee in three big gulps as if he were uncertain he’d get another chance to drink it while it was hot.
Katrina tried not to stare at the way his throat worked as he swallowed. She totally failed.
The reception bell rang and Millie hurried off to answer it.
“It’s probably Bethany,” Katrina said. “She’s pretty angsty and I told her I’d ask you how long before she’s seen.”
“The swollen ankle?” said Josh with a frown. “The gastric reflux and the rash are before her. I gave everyone a number so they’d know.”
Numbers? Katrina sighed at his body-part descriptors. “Josh, these people have names.”
He crossed his arms. “Not today they don’t. Without a receptionist, it’s a triage system.”
The ER doctor was doing what he knew best, but it wasn’t going to win him any fans among the patients of Bear Paw. Randall had dispensed health care with some TLC and fishing advice thrown in for free, and the town had loved him for it. But she knew that if she told Josh that, he’d just get that tight look around his mouth and say, “I’m not here to be friends with them. I’m here to treat them.”
She’d thought that after their visit to the hardware store, he might be starting to understand that unlike Chicago, there was no separation between living and working in Bear Paw. They were one and the same. Obviously, she’d gotten that wrong. Couldn’t he see he was making things harder for himself?
Why do you even care what he does?
She railed at the unwanted question. I don’t. I care for Bear Paw. The town deserves a doctor who sees them as people, not a series of body parts.
If you say so . . .
Millie came back down the corridor, her usually happy face creased in a scowl. “I swear if Bethany points that crutch at me one more time I’m going to break it over her head.”
Josh snorted. “Katrina will give you a stern lecture if you do, although you’d probably get brownie points for knowing the patient’s name.”
Millie looked between them, momentarily confused, before turning to Katrina with a sigh. “But you know what she’s like.”
And Katrina did. Everyone in town knew. “Bethany’s lonely, so she creates drama to be the center of attention. If you let her vent and she feels heard, she’ll deflate like a balloon and be very accommodating.”
Millie’s eyes lit up and she clapped her hands together. “Josh, I’ve got the perfect solution. Katrina can be receptionist today.”
“Excuse me?” Katrina squeaked out in panic as Josh said, “I really don’t think—”
“I can’t run the prenatal clinic and be the receptionist,” Millie said firmly. “We’ve got a waiting room full of patients running amok, the phone is ringing off the hook and no one is going to get their test results or follow-up appointments today. That’s going to make the rest of the week a nightmare.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Josh, did you know Katrina is an RN?”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts.” Millie was on a roll. “Katrina, you’re done for the day at the diner, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“I said no buts. We need your help, don’t we, Josh?”
Josh ran his hand across the back of his neck, clearly as uncomfortable as Katrina, but Millie had them both over a barrel. If either of them refused, they’d be considered to be unhelpful and unreasonable.
“Just for today.” Their reluctant words rolled over one another’s in a mix of high and low melodies.
Millie, oblivious to the fact that neither of them was thrilled about the arrangement, high-fived them both.
—
BY six o’clock, Josh had cleared the backlog of patients that the morning’s emergencies had caused. He had to hand it to Katrina—she made a hell of a better receptionist than Amber. He’d been ready to kill Millie when she’d suggested Katrina work with him for the day. Hell, he’d barely survived being in close proximity to Katrina in the house when she’d been showing him how to find a stud. Fortunately, he’d managed not to utter, “I’m right here, baby,” thus saving himself not only from making a lame joke but also from looking like a total jerk.
Born and raised in Connecticut, he’d always prided himself on being smooth and sophisticated. Ashley had once told him it was his urbane polish that had seduced her, although on reflection it was probably his father’s bank account and the hope Josh’s would one day exceed it. Sure, he’d been out of the dating game a few years, but that shouldn’t change the way he’d always approached women, and jokes like that had never featured in his repertoire.
Damn it, he didn’t even want to date and he certainly didn’t want to date Katrina. But there was something about her that took the veneer of style that had been instilled in him at birth and cultivated in him ever since and stripped it back to expose a primeval longing. He totally blamed it on the hicksville effect of Bear Paw. He’d only been here two and a half weeks and it was draining his soul.
Perhaps Ashley had been right in refusing to come.
No way. They’d looked at all the options for both of their careers and together they’d made the decision to go first to Chicago for two years and then go rural for three. She’d been the one to break her side of the deal.
I’m not coming to Montana, Josh. Ask your father for the money so we can stay in Chicago. Ashley’s steel-edged voice sounded in his head, and the anger he thought he’d locked down sizzled so strongly he threatened to combust. Sucking in some calming breaths, he forced himself back to examining the test results he’d ordered yesterday and earlier today.
Bethany Jacobs’s lab results concerned him. She’d need to come back for another appointment to discuss her rheumatoid arthritis. The woman had a difficult personality and a litany of health issues as long as the elbow crutch she liked to wave around. He smiled, remembering how Katrina had calmed her down—how she’d calmed down all the patients.
At first he’d thought the fact that she’d insisted on introducing each patient to him by name was a direct shot at him for having given people numbers, but he’d quickly worked out she was giving him a heads-up on their major concerns. She’d obviously talked to all of them before they’d come into the exam room, discovering exactly why they’d visited the clinic today. It meant he’d been able to go directly to the most vital problem, and it had saved him having to decode a list of rambling complaints before he got to the source of the problem.
The intercom beeped and Katrina’s matter-of-fact voice burst into the room. “Josh, can you please come to the treatment room. We’ve got a walk-in who probably should be in the ER.”
He pushed backed his chair on a buzz of anticipation. ER work was his first love. He was addicted to the unpredictability of it, and it was always way more exciting than the mind-numbing monotony of clinic work. He hated that Bear Paw had lured him with the promise of ER work by glossing over the mandatory clinic hours. Hours
that dominated each week.
Striding the short distance to the treatment room, he slipped in behind the curtains. A large man wearing a hospital gown lay on his side on the gurney.
Katrina was pulling up a modesty sheet. “Mr. Dreyfus, if zero is no pain at all—”
“It’s twenty,” the man gasped, drawing his legs up.
“And ten is Jesus suffering on the cross,” Katrina continued dryly without skipping a beat.
“Nine point eight. You’ve gotta help me.”
Josh walked around the gurney so he could face the man. “Hello, I’m Doctor Stanton. Exactly where does it hurt?”
“My ass. It’s like a fire poker’s stickin’ me every time I move.”
“Are hemorrhoids a problem?”
The patient shook his head.
Katrina handed Josh the chart, but it only consisted of the baseline observations she’d taken. “No history?”
She shook her head. “Mr. Dreyfus, Larry, is from out of town. He’s been staying at the motel and says the food there’s upset him, which is a shame, as Nancy is usually a fabulous cook.”
He caught the hint that perhaps it wasn’t the food that was the problem. “How long since you emptied your bowels, Mr. Dreyfus?”
“This morning.”
That ruled out the obvious. “Okay, well, I’ll need to examine you and—”
The muffled but distinctly tinny sound of Bach suddenly started playing. Josh knew it wasn’t his cell and he glanced at Katrina. “Your phone?”
She shook her head.
“It’s my phone,” Larry moaned, his entire body tensing.
“Is it in your jacket or pants pocket?” Katrina asked, picking up his clothing.
The cell stopped ringing. “It will have gone to voice mail,” said Larry.
Josh placed his stethoscope on the man’s lower abdomen, checking for bowel sounds. Larry’s stomach gurgled, ruling out a bowel obstruction, and then a buzzing started up, followed by Bach, which deafened him.
