The Surgeon's Christmas Wish

by Annie O'Neil

  Batteries frequently froze up here at high elevation. Fact.

  Even so, it was a stupid mistake. What if she hadn’t been near the clinic and a patient required critical care? She’d have to renew the vigor of her checks every morning and stick a spare pair of batteries into the insulated pocket of her ski suit before she went out. More importantly, even if Fraser did make Braveheart look like a wimpy nerd, she needed to make sure this encounter ended with her new employee understanding who ran things here. And it certainly wasn’t him. She began to unzip her ski jacket and put on her best charm-school voice.

  “Dr. MacKenzie, since you haven’t had a chance to settle in, I’ll take this patient.” Before he could protest, she slipped past him and opened the door, forcing herself to look up into those blue-as-a-lake eyes before she disappeared into the exam room.

  “Are you happy to show us what you’re made of later in the day?”

  “Perfectly.” Fraser flashed her a dazzling smile, put his hand up in a mock salute and clicked his heels together.

  Tara’s hand clenched the door handle, nerves jangling with—what, exactly? Embarrassment? Anger? Definitely embarrassment. Show us what you’re made of? Sweet heavens above. It was more than clear the man was made of one part gorgeous to one part devil-may-care. She might have to rejig the ratios a bit but...

  Unwilling to let him see her falter, Tara dropped her gaze to the floor. Despite herself, her ire disintegrated in an instant. Fraser’s socks had little cartoon snowmen dappled all over them. It was all she could do not to burst into giggles. Not that she was going to let him know he wasn’t the only one with a closet affection for the holidays.

  C’mon Tara. Be fair. Give the guy a chance to explain himself.

  To buy herself time, Tara allowed herself a cautious visual journey back up those long legs and well-muscled torso, landing straight on those perfectly blue eyes. It shocked her to realize she’d just ogled him. At close range. You’re a doctor, for heaven’s sake! Get a grip!

  “I’ll tell you what.” Tara did her best to let the words trip out lightly. “Let’s meet for coffee at the café next door in an hour and I’ll talk you through how the clinic works.” Unable to resist a bit of a barb, she turned to face her nurse, “Liesel, can you let Dr. MacKenzie know where the outdoor shop is, please? He might find it a bit chilly to work out the season in his snowmen socks.”

  Tara quickly entered the exam room before letting the full impact of Fraser MacKenzie’s tall, dark and ridiculously handsome looks sink in. Chestnut-brown hair with the perfect amount of salt and pepper at the temples. A pair of blue eyes that seemed backlit they were so bright. And the cheekbones. Knock-your-knees-out-from-under-you cheekbones. Her personal weakness.

  For heaven’s sake! She felt jittery enough after their high-speed run-in on the slopes. Having to absorb the fact she’d somehow hired the living, breathing image of her fantasy man—complete with a sexy Scottish accent—was too much.

  “Are you all right, Doctor?”

  A young woman stood up from the exam-room chair and reached out an arm to Tara as if to steady her.

  “That’s my line!” Tara tried to quip, hoping to retain the smallest modicum of professionalism. Patients first. Heart doing a wild jitterbug? Not an option. Not any more.

  “Now, who’s this?”

  “I’m Henry and this is my Mom.” The blond boy sitting on Tara’s exam table piped up. He seemed in good enough spirits despite the worried expression on his mother’s face and the large pack of frozen vegetables he held over his eye.

  “May I have a look?” She took the packet from him and placed it on the exam table.

  “Wow! That’s one heck of a panda eye you have there, young man.” Wincing with sympathy, she continued, “I’m glad to see your mother was smart enough to bring out the frozen peas!”

  “We told him to wait until we were up to put on his ski boots, but you just couldn’t hold on, could you, Henry?” Mrs. Carroll smiled lovingly at her boy, but Tara could see how concerned she was.

  He did have a small cut above his eye, but it wasn’t bleeding. What concerned Tara more was how gingerly he was holding his wrist.

  “Henry, it’s nice to meet you. I am Dr. Braxton.” She gave him the most relaxed smile she could muster despite the flock or herd or whatever it was of butterflies still careering round her stomach. Thanks a heap, Dr. MacKenzie.

  “Would you like to tell me what happened?”

  “Sure!” Henry smiled up at her after getting a reassuring nod from his mother. “Mom and Dad told me not to put on my boots until we went skiing. So this morning I knew we were going skiing and no one was up yet, but I was excited, so I brought my boots upstairs to try them on outside Mom and Dad’s room and they fit so I started to walk downstairs to get some juice because I was thirsty and...” Here he stopped and shot an anxious look at his mother.

  “Go on, you silly little thing.” His mother couldn’t help laughing at her son’s pell-mell style of story. “Tell the doctor what happened next.”

  “Well...it turns out it was harder to go down the stairs than I thought and I tripped and fell and bumped all the way to the bottom.” Henry gave Tara a triumphant grin.

  “Looks like you showed those stairs who was boss.” Tara smiled at his bravery.

  “If this isn’t proof my husband should’ve booked a cabin instead of the townhouse, I don’t know what is!” Mrs. Carroll was trying to keep her voice light, but a slight waver betrayed her anxiety.

  Tara smiled reassuringly. “Believe me, accidents can happen anywhere. I’m sure this was nothing you could have foreseen. Henry, do you mind if I take a look at your wrist?”

  The little boy automatically pulled his arm towards his stomach.

  “It’s okay, Henry. I know it must hurt.” Tara reached into a drawer behind her and pulled out a child’s instant cold compress. Giving the packet an experienced twist and shake, she handed it to the boy. “Why don’t you hold this on your wrist for a minute?” Once he had the pack resting on his arm, Tara continued, “I’d better do a check to make sure you didn’t conk your head too hard when you landed.” She bent her knees so she was level with his eye line. “Can you just follow my finger?”

  A few tests and a soft splint later, Tara felt satisfied that Henry had no permanent damage.

  “Looks like you have a resilient son here, Mrs. Carroll, but I’m afraid his wrist is sprained. I think we can safely rule out a break as he has a full range of movement despite the swelling. Forty-eight hours of rest, elevation and cold compresses should help ease the pain.”

  Tara couldn’t stop herself from ruffling Henry’s curly blond hair. She’d always imagined she’d have a little boy. A couple of them. Not that she was too bothered if they were boys or girls. Just healthy kids, part of a happy family. Ah, well. Dreams were just that. Fanciful flights of your imagination. No room for those any more.

  Clearing her throat, Tara wiggled a playful finger at Henry. “Be sure to listen to your mom, now. We’ll get you back out on those slopes lickety-split.” Henry grinned with relief.

  Turning, Tara addressed Henry’s mother, “Make sure you call me if he complains of any dizziness, nausea or starts to have any balance problems. Here’s a sheet listing concussion symptoms to look out for, but I’m pretty certain you’re in the clear.”

  “Thank you so much, Dr. Braxton. This will certainly make our Thanksgiving vacation more interesting! I hope you and your family have a great holiday.”

  Tara’s brow cinched into a furrow, her thumb moving mechanically to the finger that had once held a diamond solitaire. She was here on her own. And that’s how she liked it.

  “Just me and my stethoscope, I’m afraid!” Tara shook the stethoscope in what she hoped looked like a carefree manner.

  “I’m so sorry, I just assumed...” The poor woman looked mortified.

  “Not to worry. An easy mistake to make.”

  Tara held her smile until the mother and s
on walked out of her exam room.

  Just the mountains and me. Just the way I like it.

  *

  Fraser grinned as the cowbell rang out when he entered the log cabin-style café next to the clinic. He’d spent seasons in all types of ski resorts, but there was something different about Deer Creek. His staff condo didn’t have the usual temporary feeling hanging about it and the resort village itself, just a small main street with a smattering of specialized shops and a fire department, was...welcoming. That was it. Welcoming. The place made him feel like he’d come home. Which was rich coming from someone who’d been born several thousand miles away and had actively avoided having a permanent address for the past four years.

  He felt his smile fade. Four years. Four years that would never bring his brother back, no matter how many times he went over his options that day. He’d survived. His kid brother hadn’t. It was as simple as that.

  Fraser shook the thoughts away and stepped up to the counter heaving with scones, fruity muffins, oversized brownies, and to-die-for cookies. He didn’t usually go in for baked goods so early, but he had just snowboarded for a good hour.

  “What can I do you for?” A cheerful woman behind the counter with a thick braid running down her back smiled up at him.

  “What would you recommend for a man who is about to start his first day of work?”

  “Ooh! New job, eh? First impressions are very important.”

  Fraser winced at the memory of the first impression he’d made on Tara. Definitely not a winning one, that was for sure. Ah, well. It’s not strictly as if his new colleague had skied straight off the slopes of the Deer Creek charm academy.

  “You will want to have just the right breakfast if you’re going to cut it up here in Deer Creek.” Her eyes twinkled as she put on a mock expression of gravity and scanned his options.

  “If I were you, and bear in mind I made everything you see here before you, I would start with a caffe latte and a blueberry muffin because I picked the berries myself and powered up the dough with a bit of protein powder.”

  “That sounds good. I will need all the strength I can get today.”

  “And why is that exactly?” The woman leant forward conspiratorially. “Is the new boss a bit of an ogre?”

  “Exactly! Wait, no. Hmm...” Fraser reconsidered, enjoying the playful tête-à-tête with the café owner, “More like a drill sergeant in a sexy ski suit. Nothing I can’t handle. Particularly if I bribe her with a few of these treats you have here.”

  “So your boss is a bit of a push-over, is she?”

  The sound of Tara’s voice hit Fraser’s nerve endings before he saw her. Great. Just great. If she was going to be this sensitive about everything that came out of his mouth it was going to be a long season.

  “Morning, Tara! So this is the new doc you hired?”

  “You guessed right, Marian. I’m afraid I am to blame.” Tara offered a hundred-watt smile to Marian and a cool half-glance in Fraser’s direction. Is that all you’ve got? C’mon, Dr. Braxton. You’ll have to play harder than that if you want to stick in the daggers. This could be fun.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t blame you for hiring this one.” The café owner gave Tara a naughty grin, not even attempting to hide her approval of Fraser’s looks. And we can chalk another point up for MacKenzie!

  Tara leant forward conspiratorially, a smile playing on her lips and her eyes trained on Fraser as she addressed her friend. “Trust me, Marian, if I’d realized I’d hired a speed freak who has problems with his superiors I would’ve gone straight back to the drawing board.”

  Fraser flinched, unable to staunch the memory of his commanding officer ordering him to return from the combat zone. So it’s time for hardball, is it? If Tara wanted to play this game, it was fine with him. He didn’t have anything to lose. Not any more.

  “The ink’s hardly dry on my contract...”

  “I don’t think we’re quite at that point.” Tara met his gaze, the merest hint of a question in her eyes. “Are we?” It was a statement. Not a question.

  No. Perhaps not just yet. He was the one who chose when to leave. Not the other way around. Besides, just a couple of mini-encounters with this woman and he knew instinctively she was more substance than style. And she had buckets of style.

  “Will you have the regular, dear?” Marian interjected, seemingly oblivious to the verbal sparring match being played out in front of her muffin display.

  “Yes, please, Marian, and could you also add on whatever Dr. MacKenzie would like as well? We wouldn’t want him thinking we are bereft of manners out here in the wilds of Deer Creek.”

  There was that fiery glint in Tara’s eyes again. How playfully or not it shone was up in the air.

  She sure was a live wire. Even so, the last thing Fraser wanted was for Tara to think he was a sexist pig. Women were paramount in his life. His mother had almost single-handedly raised him and his brother, with their father’s military career consuming most of his time. And his brother’s wife? Well, he had met few people who could hold a candle to the strength and determination she had shown the past few years. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing the images of his family to stay behind the door he’d had to shut four years ago. They were better off without him.

  “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

  “And why is that, exactly?” Tara’s dark eyes held his gaze, genuinely curious.

  “Because we are professionals and while you may run the clinic, I am quite able to fend for myself.”

  “No one’s doubting your ability to buy a blueberry muffin, Dr. MacKenzie. What I am doubting, is your ability to accept some Deer Creek hospitality.”

  Fraser was a master at keeping his cool and he was damned if he was going to blow his top over who was or wasn’t going to buy a blueberry muffin. This whole palaver would be a lot easier if Tara didn’t make a glaring expression and firmly crossed arms look so attractive. Fraser was no chauvinist, but he certainly was about as red-blooded a male as they came.

  He took a level breath and continued, “Where I come from, manners are paramount.” He saw her eyes narrow dubiously. “It is not unusual for a new employee to greet their boss with a purely professional, no-strings-attached latte and a...” he glanced at the counter as Marian brought out a huge plate of pancakes and a steaming pitcher of syrup “...very impressive plate of pancakes.”

  Marian leaned in before Tara could respond. “Keep this one on, honey. I think we’ll like having him around the place.”

  *

  Tara shot her friend an I-love-you-but-you’re-not-really-helping look.

  Okay. He definitely had charming and suave covered. Not so sure about the “professional” part.

  Good grief. Chill out, Tara! Fraser seemed sincere enough. And her last comment had clearly hit a nerve. Not entirely sure which nerve, but there was definitely more going on than met the eye with this man. Anyhow, she hadn’t heard the entire conversation with Marian so it wasn’t entirely fair to judge. Eat your pancakes and let it go! Besides, staring into those startlingly azure eyes of his wasn’t exactly helping her focus. Neither was the fact that he had called her a drill sergeant. Maybe she’d pushed the cool and reserved boss thing a bit too far.

  This wasn’t fair! She had worked hard to get herself back to the fun-loving person she had always been before New York and now she was coming across all grouchy and horrible.

  “I’ll throw in one of Marian’s salted caramel brownies for later if that will seal the deal.” Fraser tipped his head in the direction of her absolutely favorite indulgence and gave her a knowing wink.

  “Now, let’s not go overboard.” It was difficult to keep a smile from creeping onto her lips. The man was good. No doubt about it. “A plate of pancakes will suffice to give us a clean slate.” Tara knew she sounded churlish but she didn’t want Fraser to think his charming smile was actually making her go weak at the knees. Which it was. Or that his long-lashed wink had unleashed a reel of
goose-bumps up her arms. Which it had. But she had to ignore that now and act like his boss. Which she was.

  Arghhhh! Why didn’t she ask for photos of her applicants?

  “For heaven’s sake, honey.” She felt Marian poking her arm playfully. “Let the man buy you a brownie. You know they’re your favorite and they were freshly baked this morning!” Marian adorned her sales pitch with a musical trill as Fraser put on what she imagined was his best contrite expression.

  “Thank you. I gratefully accept.” Tara quickly whisked her pancakes off the counter and made her way to a window table before she made a bigger fool of herself. Any more deep and meaningful eye contact with Dr. Fraser MacKenzie would be a swan dive into a danger zone she didn’t want to enter. Not in a million years.

  Tara took advantage of his turned back to lean her head against the cool window for a moment before pulling her fingers through her hat-head hair. She could hear Fraser laugh quietly with Marian as he settled the bill. Even across the room that sexy voice of his put her senses on high alert. Who was she kidding? Every single thing about the man had her feeling more alive than she’d ever felt and she’d only known him for a New York second. New York. The place that had taught her how important it was to be careful—guarded. To look after number one.

  Sighing, she picked up her fork and stabbed at a pancake. Maybe she was a bit uptight. But that was hardly her fault. Life had taught her to be wary and Fraser was setting off all of her alarm bells. Besides, she primly reminded herself, he had nearly had a serious collision with her this morning so she had a right to be cross with him. And another thing! Did he have to be so—so accurate in assessing her character when they’d known each other less than five minutes? She would have to be tough. Cool. Professional.

  “One gingerbread latte for the good doctor.”

  Uh-oh. Was that Scottish accent of his going to get her every time?