by Fiona Lowe
Watch for Millie’s story in the next Medicine River romance
TRULY MADLY MONTANA
Coming July 2015 from Berkley Sensation!
Turn the page for a sneak preview . . .
As Millie Switkowski drove into Bear Paw for the first time in months, it seemed both ironic and fitting that her continuous glucose monitor started beeping wildly. It was like a mocking welcome-home message—you’re back where it all started, baby.
“Okay, Dex,” she said to the machine with which she shared a love-hate relationship. “Simmer down. I’m pulling over.”
She’d been late leaving Bozeman because last night instead of packing, she’d panicked and done last-minute cramming for her microbiology final. As it turned out, the extra study time hadn’t been necessary and she would have been far better off spending the time loading the car, which had been her original plan. Her life was a series of well-thought-out plans, and she knew she really needed to trust them more. If she’d had more faith in her study program, today’s road trip would have been divided up into ordered and necessary scheduled breaks rather than her rushing to get here by six and risking a sugar crash.
Parking next to the enormous concrete penguin, which declared that Bear Paw was the coldest spot in the nation, she smiled at the incongruity of it. She’d always wondered how the brains behind the black-and-white statue had cheerfully disregarded both Alaska and the fact that penguins weren’t found in the northern hemisphere. Geography was obviously not their strongest subject. She rummaged through her enormous tote bag until she found a juice box and some fruit snacks.
The last thing she needed was to arrive at Dr. Josh Stanton’s bachelor party with plummeting blood sugar. She didn’t need the drama of feeling like crap. She surely didn’t need the drama of people hovering, or worse still, some well-meaning person telling her parents she’d arrived back in town looking pale and shaky. No, she was striding into Leroy’s and the party like any normal twenty-six-year-old woman just back from grad school. Truth be told, most normal twenty-six-year-old women probably weren’t invited to their former boss’s buck’s night, but Josh, like everyone else in town, never seemed to notice she was a woman. She was just Millie. Practical, sensible, dependable Millie—one of the guys. Someone who could shoot pool and throw darts with the best of them.
She checked her appearance in the rearview mirror. Pale face, crazy curls springing everywhere and some freckles on her cheeks left over from spring break in Florida. Without the time or the inclination to spend an hour with a hair straightener, her hair was beyond help, and in a few minutes the sugar would hit and pink up her cheeks. She glanced down at her Montana State sweatshirt and gave thanks it didn’t have a ketchup stain on it from the hot dog she’d grabbed when she’d filled up on gas in Great Falls. She gave herself points for clean jeans, kinda clean boots and a clean, baggy tee—the perfect attire for a buck’s night at Leroy’s.
Millie, honey, there’s nothing wrong with wearing a dress from time to time.
She quickly swiped on some lip gloss as if that show of femininity was enough to silence the memory of her mom’s often sad and critical voice. Her mom had wanted a girlie-girl daughter to share her love of clothes. Instead, she’d gotten a son who loved fashion and football with equal fervor and a daughter who couldn’t tell the difference between a Gucci and a Gabbana. Millie was far more last-season Old Navy and on sale, and she felt way more at home in jeans and T-shirts. Her brother, Evan, did his best to make up for Millie’s fashion shortcomings and took their mom shopping whenever she visited him in California. Of course, he also took their dad to football games, so really, he was the perfect adult child. Millie, on the other hand, knew her overriding contribution to the family was a constant source of parental worry.
She drained the juice box with a slurp and sent a text to her mom and dad, who were out of town.
Arrived home safely. Tell Uncle Ken happy birthday from me. Millie x
With the job of reassuring the parents done, she checked her blood sugar. Eighty-six and rising. Awesome. And real food was coming. As Josh’s best man, she’d ordered up big on the hors d’oeuvres—BBQ meatballs, layered Mexican dip, stuffed mushrooms, bacon-wrapped Jalapeño poppers and buffalo wings. If they weren’t serving food when she arrived, she’d ask them to start.
The good and the bad thing about Bear Paw was that most of the older residents and anyone she’d gone to school with knew she was diabetic. They didn’t comment if she ate at a different time from them, although they often had an opinion about what she ate. As a result, in her life outside of Bear Paw as a medical student, she only shared her lack of a functioning pancreas with people on a strictly need-to-know basis. She made sure that need didn’t arise very often at all because she had a doctorate in horrified and pitying looks or—worse than those—over-intrusive interest from people who saw her as a training specimen. She just wanted to be known for being Millie—although she wasn’t exactly certain who that was. But tonight wasn’t the time to tackle that particular chestnut.
Throwing the car into drive, she shoulder-checked, pulled out onto the road and drove the last mile to Leroy’s. The parking lot was almost full and some smart-ass cowboy had fashioned a rope noose and hung it over the door next to a banner that said, “Another good man all tied up.” Ducking to miss it, she pushed open the door, and a wall of noise and the malty scent of beer wafted out to greet her.
“Millie!”
“Millie’s here!”
A welcoming roar went up from the cowboys and assorted businessmen who were gathered around the bar, and they turned and raised their drinks to her.
She grinned and tipped her imaginary hat. She knew all of them, having either treated them at the clinic when she’d worked as a nurse or having bested them here at pool and darts. “Hey, guys. It’s good to be back.”
“Hey, Millie.” Josh greeted her with a warm hug and a perfunctory kiss on the cheek—in sharp contrast to the buttoned-up city doctor who’d arrived in Bear Paw just over a year ago. “It’s great to see you.”
She hugged him back. “And you. Getting nervous?”
“About the wedding?” He shook his head. “Not at all. About my parents spending a week in Bear Paw, yes. Katrina’s dad offered to host them out at Coulee Creek, which probably means I owe him our first-born child.”
She punched him lightly on the arm. “They can’t be worse than when you first arrived in town with your fancy coffee and stinky French cheeses.”
He gave a good-natured smile. “Your parents always greet me with open arms when I place my monthly gourmet food order.”
“I can’t argue that then, especially as by default you’re likely contributing to my generous birthday and Christmas allowance.” She raised her hand toward the bar and gave the barman a wave. He’d started at Leroy’s not long before she’d left for medical school. “Sparkling water, please, Shane.”
“It’s a buck’s night, Millie. Moose Drool is mandatory,” Shane said, filling a glass with the amber beer. “You can worry about your weight tomorrow.”
And you’re home. Her gut tightened. Half of her was grateful he didn’t know about her diabetes while the other half of her hated that she’d just taken a hit about her weight. She wasn’t obese but, then again, she was hardly willow-thin, either. She knew this was how guys talked to one another and she’d never expected them to treat her any differently before. Tonight wasn’t the night to go all girly on them.
“A beer and buffalo wings sound good, Shane,” she said brightly. As for the alcohol, she’d have to bolus insulin for the carbs and make that one beer last the entire night. Turning back to Josh, she asked, “How’s Katrina?”
“She says hi and told me to tell you that you’re not to party too hard tonight because she wants you in good shape at her bachelorette party tomorrow.”
“Is that code for me to stay sober so I can keep an eye on you?”
He grinned. “Maybe, although I don’t think I’ve ever seen you e
ven a little bit buzzed.”
And you won’t. She’d been there and done that years before he’d come to town, and it just wasn’t worth the risk. “As the best man, it’s my job to make sure you don’t get injured when you inevitably fall off the mechanical bull, that I make sure no cowboy takes you outside and sits you backward on a horse, and as the designated driver, I get you home in one piece by midnight.”
He slung his arm around her shoulder, the touch easy and friendly. “And that’s why I chose you to be my best man.”
“That and the fact you couldn’t ask Ty Garver no matter how much you want him standing next to you,” she said, thinking about the cowboy who’d fallen in love with Katrina years ago.
“Well, yeah, there is that.” Josh sighed. “And Will Bartlett’s not available. He couldn’t get anyone to cover him at MontMedAir for the weekend.”
And there is a God. Not that she didn’t like Will; she did. In fact, last year she’d liked the MontMedAir doctor just a little too much. Heat burned her cheeks at the thought. Having a crush at sixteen was normal, crushing on a work colleague at twenty-five probably got a listing in DSM-5. The memory of last spring and summer was still excruciatingly embarrassing, given he’d barely noticed her other than as one of many people he came into contact with through work.
Will was laid-back, easygoing and he had a way of making people feel appreciated and part of a team. That had been her undoing—being appreciated was powerful stuff, and Floyd Coulson, Bear Paw’s hospital administrator, could learn a lot from him. So she’d read way too much into Will’s generous praise and his oft-said, “You’re the best, Millie,” when she’d accompanied him on MontMedAir retrievals.
Following him on Twitter and pretending it was because of his #FOAMed tweets—free open access meducation—was borderline stalker behavior, although totally educational. What the guy didn’t know about emergency airway management wasn’t worth knowing. At least she’d come to her senses before clicking on add friend on his Facebook account and for that, she was both proud and grateful. Sadly, she’d undone that bit of clear thinking after a traumatic medical evacuation last August. It was the fifth time she’d been the accompanying nurse out of Bear Paw, and they were airlifting two badly injured tourists who’d been involved in a motor vehicle accident. They flew out between two storm fronts, and the pilot had given her the all-clear to check the patients’ vitals. She was out of her seat when the plane had hit an air pocket and she’d been thrown sideways, landing face-first in Will’s lap. She still got a hot and cold flash whenever she thought about it.
He’d gripped her arms, lifted her up and checked she was okay before hitting her with his devastatingly gorgeous smile—the one that radiated from his full lips, creased his tan cheeks and crinkled the edges of his unusual dark blue eyes. He’d quipped something about things moving fast for a first date, which had disarmed her all-consuming embarrassment and made her crush-filled brain totally misunderstand what he meant. When they’d landed and had handed over their patients to the Seattle hospital staff, she’d suggested they restart the date with a drink.
“Great idea, Mils,” he’d said with his sexy Australian diphthong, sounding as if he truly believed the words. Her heart had soared, flipped and high-fived all at once only to plummet to her feet when he’d continued with, “but I’ll have to take a rain check.”
Of course he did.
A rain check that made her puce with embarrassment whenever she thought about it. A rain check that never came.
With his surfer-dude good looks, he was likely very used to nurses—heck, probably all women with a pulse—throwing themselves at him. Only she wasn’t usually one of those nurses or women because she knew he was so far out of her league it wasn’t even worth playing the game. She still blamed the fog caused by low blood sugar and the addition of a post-emergency adrenaline rush for her out-of-character invitation, because she’d stopped asking lesser guys out a long time ago.
As a woman of the twenty-first century, she knew she had the right to ask a guy out, but after a series of flat-out no’s, a few disastrous dates and two truly awful one-night stands, she’d learned from her mistakes. She didn’t ask guys out, period. As a result, her dating average was zip.
“It’s too bad Will can’t make it,” she said, trying to sound sincere rather than totally relieved. “But I’m pumped to be your best man and I promise to get you to the church on time.”
“You’re a good friend,” Josh said sincerely.
That’s me. Everyone’s good buddy. “Hey, it’s way too early to be getting all D & M on me,” she said, climbing onto a chair as much to start the party as to run from her thoughts. Sticking her fingers in her mouth, she blew hard and the piercing whistle silenced the bar.
“Aw, Millie,” a voice from down near the pool table, called out, “you’re not gonna make a speech, are you?”
“Hey, Doc, I told you not to choose a chick to be your best man,” Trent Dattner sighed.
“Millie’s not a girl,” Dane Aiken heckled and then gave Trent a high five.
“Hah, hah.” Millie rolled her eyes, surprised by the dull ache that spread through her. “And yet Comedy Central hasn’t signed you up. For that smartass comment, Dane, the bull gets set on high for you.”
The cowboys in the room cheered, knowing full well the pizza maker wouldn’t last three seconds in the saddle.
She raised her glass. “We’ve got food, we’ve got beer and we’ve got a bull. Let’s give Josh a Bear Paw buck’s night to remember.”
—
DR. Will Bartlett was on a mission. He was used to missions—he’d flown a lot of miles doing emergency medical air retrieval in both Australia and Montana, but this particular mission was very different. It was also proving to be a hell of a lot harder than intubating a critical patient at twenty-thousand feet.
“Brandon, mate, we’re talking twenty-four hours.”
The physician tapped a medication order into the tablet computer in his hand. “You know better than anyone that a lot can happen in twenty-four hours.”
A lot could happen in twenty-four seconds—hell, his life had been irreversibly changed in less time than that. Convincing Brandon to swap shifts was his last hope, as everyone else who could have possibly covered his schedule had ironclad commitments. The key, though, was making it look like he was doing Brandon McBain a favor, not the other way around, because if people sensed weakness, they zeroed in on it.
“Only last week you were whinging—” Will immediately translated the Australian word at Brandon’s blank look—“whining to me that you were sick of treating the flu and prescription drug addicts trying to get meds. You said you wanted more of a challenge and this is it.” He tapped his chest twice with his fist. “I’m offering you the chance of heart-pumping, adrenaline-racing trauma . . . the crack cocaine of all emergency physicians.”
“It’s tempting.”
Yes!
“. . . but I just got a date for tonight with that pretty brunette from Orthopedics.”
Will knew the intern—he’d enjoyed flirting with her at a party, but she had the look in her eyes of a woman who was seeking commitment. That was his red card, so he hadn’t pursued it any further. “Jenna will understand. That’s the whole point of dating inside the medical community. They get that work interferes. Promise her a rain check.”
Brandon snorted and then shot Will a scowl. “That’s your line, not mine. I actually like her and I want to date her. Unlike you, with your weird accent that seems to make every woman in this hospital think you’re Jesse Spencer and Hugh Jackman rolled into one, I had to work damn hard to get her to say yes.” He walked toward the nurses’ station. “Anyway, I thought you didn’t like weddings.”
Will easily matched the shorter man’s stride. “I haven’t got anything against them per se, as long as I’m not the groom. Josh Stanton’s a good bloke and I’d like to be there. How about I work your next two weekends? That’s more than fair. Whad
’ya say?”
“I dunno.” Brandon plugged the tablet into the charger. “What if Jenna sees changing the date as a chance to cancel?”
Will tried not to sigh. Brandon was a good doctor, but he was hopeless with women, and his dating strikeout rate in the hospital was legendary. Maybe he could get his swap by sweetening the deal and helping a bro out. “You know, if you tell Jenna that you’re delaying your date to help me attend a wedding, you’ll automatically be more attractive to her.”
Brandon finally gave Will his full attention. “How do you figure that?”
“All women love weddings, so by helping me get there you’re doing your bit for love. Plus, I’ll pay for the flowers you’re going to send her as an apology for changing the date and I’ll get you a table at Annie’s. I know the maître d’.”
“Oh, that’s good.” Brandon’s eyes lit up with a calculating light. “If you throw in dating tips so I get a second date with Jenna, I’ll swap.”
“Jeez, McBain. I’ve already given you more than you deserve.”
Brandon casually opened a candy bar. “Exactly how much do you want to be the best man at this wedding?”
The thought of discussing dating’s dos and don’ts with Brandon was up there with sitting in the dentist’s chair with the sound of the drill buzzing in his ears. Was getting to this wedding really worth it?
You know it is. Josh Stanton was a good mate—one of the few people he’d really connected with this last year in Montana. Even though Josh was a Yank, he totally related to Will’s feelings of discombobulation when he’d arrived from Australia to work in Montana. He’d told Will that for a guy from New York and Chicago, small-town Montana was as strange and different for him as if he’d been the one to move countries. Plus they shared a passion for emergency medicine, and with Bear Paw’s proximity to Glacier National Park and accident-prone tourists, they’d worked together a lot. Being at the wedding was an act of friendship that he wanted to make.
