Mending the Doctor's Heart

by Tina Radcliffe

  “You wanted to see it, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, but don’t I get points for resisting?”

  “Do you need points?” Sara asked.

  “When it comes to you, I think I might.”

  She blushed and waved a hand. “The tour starts this way. Look around you. All this will be mine someday. Whether I like it or not.”

  “I thought you loved the ranch.”

  “I do. I’m spoiled rotten. I take for granted that I can ride my horse for hours without seeing a soul. Or fish in the stocked pond we keep in the north forty.”

  “North forty? The ranch is that large?’

  She sighed. “Larger than large. My father owns the land all the way from here to the base of that mountain.”

  “Wow. So what will happen to the ranch when your father retires?” Ben asked.

  “I don’t know. That word isn’t in my father’s vocabulary, so it’s really a moot point. He won’t even entertain a discussion on the topic. Eventually he’ll have to let someone else take over the operation or sell.” She shook her head. “I’d be happy with just the horses and a little land. But my father has a different connection to the land than I do.” She turned to Ben. “Enough about me. Are you hungry?”

  “I’m guessing I better be. But I’m not just yet.” He smiled. “Nice of your father to invite me.”

  “So my father did invite you.”

  “You didn’t know?” He glanced at her and frowned. “If this is uncomfortable for you...”

  “No. Not at all. Why would it be? We’re friends, right?”

  “Right. I just thought maybe you might have a thing about coworkers and personal boundaries.”

  “It’s more a father issue and personal boundaries.”

  Ben nodded slowly. “That much I figured.”

  “What did you think about my father? Does he look okay to you?” she asked.

  “Truthfully, I didn’t really notice.”

  “No?” She turned to him.

  “One look at you, and I sort of forgot about your father.”

  Sara stopped and stared as pleasure warmed her. Heat crept up her face, and she knew with certainty that her ears were pink. “Ben, sometimes you say the most, well, honest things.”

  He shrugged. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” She glanced down at her black jeans and crisp white Western shirt. “Thank you for the compliment.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I like your boots,” she said, noting with interest his well-worn Justins.

  “Your father told me to wear them.”

  “He was testing you.”

  “Testing me?”

  “If you have boots in your closet, you pass the first test.”

  Ben chuckled. “I’m going to try not to analyze that.”

  Sara adjusted her hat. “Do you ride?”

  “Is that the second test?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “I ride passably.”

  She raised a brow. “Are you serious?”

  “You’re surprised?” Ben laughed heartily, and she knew he was laughing at her.

  “Let’s just say yes, and leave it at that,” Sara said.

  “Still doing that, aren’t you?” Ben asked.

  “Hmm?” Her gaze followed the children running past them as she pointedly ignored his question.

  “You know what I’m talking about. Jumping to conclusions,” he said.

  Sara lifted a shoulder. “It’s the only way I can stay ahead.”

  “No. I think it’s a defense mechanism. The only way you know to protect yourself,” he returned.

  “Perhaps.” She acknowledged his remark and dismissed it lightly.

  “And perhaps when it comes to testing people, you’re more like your father than you want to admit.”

  “I’d have to say perhaps to that, as well.”

  He grinned.

  “So, do you want to meet Rocky?”

  Ben’s eyes widened at the challenge. “Do you want me to meet Rocky?”

  “Of course.” She walked with purpose toward the barn door, stopping to scoop up a handful of feed on the way. She paused at the first stall. “Ben. Rocky.”

  Ben looked from Sara to the horse. “So Rocky really is a horse,” he stated.

  “Yes. I told you he was. What did you think?”

  “To tell you the truth, the first time you mentioned him I figured he was some seven-foot-tall cowboy with six-pack abs. When you said he was a horse, I thought you were messing with me.”

  Sara laughed, unable to hide her amusement.

  Ben held out a hand for the horse to inspect. When the high-spirited black-and-white gelding snorted, then nudged his hand, Ben reached up to scratch his ears.

  “He likes you,” she said.

  “Yeah, animals, small children and old folks tend to like me. The jury is still out on the rest of the population.”

  Sara held out the feed to Rocky, who began to lick her palm. “Good boy.”

  When Sara glanced up, Ben was watching her. Her skin warmed beneath his gaze. “Up for a little ride?” she asked.

  “Now? What about your guests?”

  “You’re a guest, Ben. Besides, I could use some air. I’ve been standing in the sun for over an hour. I was getting claustrophobic with all those people.”

  Ben laughed and stared at her.

  Sara glanced away, because she knew exactly what he was thinking. She was more like him than she wanted to admit. She’d accused Ben of being a loner, and then she’d gone and admitted that what she really wanted was to retreat to someplace quiet.

  But she’d invited him along. Did that qualify her as a loner, or just a woman who was dangerously close to losing her heart?

  * * *

  “Watch out,” Ben called.

  As Sara yanked on the reins and tried to avert the low-hanging branch, Rocky snorted in agitation and reared back.

  Suddenly Sara was on the ground, shaking her head and blinking.

  “Are you okay?” Ben asked. He dropped from his horse to the ground, adrenaline pumping, and began assessing her for neurological damage. “Let me see your pupils.”

  “Stop. I’m totally humiliated, but I’m fine. Help me up.”

  “No. Don’t move,” Ben said, sharper than he intended.

  “I said I’m fine,” Sara repeated, this time with a healthy dose of irritation in her voice.

  He held out a hand and Sara grasped it, standing up. “Did you hit your head?” he asked.

  “I’ve been riding a long time. I know how to fall. As usual, I landed hard on my dignity. Fortunately it’s well padded.”

  “So you don’t want me to call for a doctor? Or two?”

  Sara paused and narrowed her eyes, then she started laughing. “And I used to think you were humorless.”

  “Me? Now that is funny.”

  She dusted twigs and dirt off her jeans.

  “What happened back there?” Ben asked.

  “I pulled back when I saw the branch, but Rocky got spooked. Must have been a snake or something in that underbrush.”

  “Hang on a minute. Let me see if I can find him.” Ben walked down the path. No sign of Rocky, but he did find her hat. He walked slowly back to give Sara a few minutes to piece together her ego.

  “Thanks.” She dusted off the hat on her jeans.

  “I didn’t see Rocky.”

  Sara looked around and shrugged. “Give him a few minutes. He never wanders far.”

  “Your backside,” Ben said.

  “My what?” She tried to look over her shoulder. “Are you telling me I’m covered with dirt?”

  He gave a r
eluctant nod.

  “Oh, great,” she moaned. “I can’t go back to the party looking like I took a tumble with a cowboy.”

  Ben chuckled. “I like that. Your ego may be bruised, but mine is doing just fine.”

  Her mouth began to twitch at one corner as she tried to dust off her posterior.

  “Um, you’ve got some stuff in your hair, as well,” Ben said.

  Sara pulled out her ponytail holder and shook her head. The long dark tresses waved around her head like a satin sheet. He stared, mesmerized by the sight.

  “Better?”

  Ben swallowed. “Uh, yeah.” He stepped forward, and as if in slow motion, slid his fingers into her hair and pulled out a dried leaf. “Twig,” he mumbled.

  Their eyes connected.

  Somehow the distance between them closed ever so slowly. Ben’s hand slid to her smooth, long neck, then burrowed into her hair as he gently lifted her head toward him. By the time he leaned in to touch his mouth to hers, he was near dizzy.

  For a brief moment he noticed that her lips were soft and warm, tasting faintly of mint and vanilla. Then he was lost in the connection between them.

  When it ended, Sara’s eyes remained closed. “No,” she protested from the circle of his arms.

  “Sara,” he whispered, gently pushing the hair away from her face.

  Her lids fluttered open, and she smiled. “There’s Rocky.” She moved away from Ben and toward her horse.

  They were silent as they walked their horses back to the barn.

  “Sara, I...”

  “Just let it go, Ben.”

  What did that mean? He was woefully ignorant when it came to woman-speak, but he figured she was trying to say she didn’t want to talk about the kiss they’d just shared.

  Finally Ben turned to her to try a different tact. “Do you think that sometime we could do something together besides work at the clinic?”

  Her green eyes widened.

  “I guess that’s a no.”

  “No. I was just surprised.”

  “Why? I like you, Sara. To tell you the truth, it scares me how much I like you.”

  “I like you, too, Ben.”

  “So why not? We have a lot in common, and we certainly have some kind of chemistry going for us.”

  Sara stared at Ben as if seeing him for the first time. He knew it wasn’t a good sign when she stepped back carefully.

  “Suddenly you want to date me?” she asked.

  He smiled. “Not so suddenly. Maybe suddenly I have the courage to say something.”

  She shook her head, and her eyes clouded with concern. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. You’ve become a very valuable friend to me. I don’t want to jeopardize that friendship. And we’ve got a lot going on with the clinic—neither one of us should be focused on anything else right now.”

  He shoved his hands into his front pockets.

  “And what will happen in September when one of us...you know.”

  “It’s just a job, Sara. I thought people were more important than things to you.”

  “You’re twisting my words around. Besides, I have a hard time reconciling your telling me it’s just a job now with how angry and fiercely determined you were in July, especially when you found out Dr. Rhoades was my uncle.”

  Again she shook her head, this time more adamantly. “This is a no-win situation for us, Ben. You may say the job doesn’t mean as much to you anymore, but what if I’m chosen? You’ll always wonder if it was because I’m qualified, or because my father is Hollis Elliott. Eventually that would tear us apart.”

  “What about you, Sara?”

  “Me?”

  “There’s something else going on here. You’re afraid. Afraid of getting hurt.”

  She took a deep breath. “I think you should know exactly why I left Paradise two years ago.”

  “Okay.”

  She dropped the reigns and paced back and forth, wringing her hands. “I was engaged.”

  Ben raised a brow.

  “This isn’t easy to admit, but I was duped into believing my fiancé actually loved me. I’m obviously a poor judge of character.”

  Ben raised a brow. “The way I see it, you choose to see the best in people.”

  She released a bitter laugh. “That’s a nice way of putting it. I wish that was true.”

  Again she paced.

  “My fiancé was marrying me for my dowry. It’s an old-fashioned term, but basically quite applicable here. My father promised him a partnership in the ranch if he’d court and marry his daughter. I fell for it, lock, stock and Elliott cattle.”

  Sara closed her eyes for a moment.

  “I’m so sorry,” Ben whispered. He stepped toward her, longing to wrap her in his arms and chase away her pain.

  She stepped back.

  “So we don’t even get a chance?” he asked.

  “We’ve become good friends. I don’t want to risk that.”

  He didn’t answer. In some ways she was so very much like her father. She thought she had all the answers.

  Sara picked up Rocky’s reigns again and started walking. Ben blinked as he followed her down the path and into the bright Colorado sunlight. He had been shot down in broad daylight. She certainly had a talent for getting to the point. And he thought that was his forte.

  “How about some ribs?” Sara asked.

  “Ribs?” His head was spinning, and she wanted ribs?

  “Yes. Ribs and grilled corn on the cob, and Malla even made her famous potato salad. Do you know how many potatoes I had to peel to help her make enough potatoes for this crowd?”

  She was babbling, and he wanted badly to let her off the hook, but he couldn’t. His heart ached too much to even try.

  “Orvis and Anna Carter are over there,” Ben said. “Mind if I go say hi?”

  “No, of course not. You know, there are a few things I should check on right now.” She smiled a little too brightly. “I’m apparently acting hostess for this shindig.”

  “You did a great job, Sara. Your mother would be proud.”

  She inhaled sharply. “Everyone keeps saying that, but I can’t help but feel like a poor replacement.”

  “Don’t do that to yourself,” Ben said. “The Lord has a special calling for your life. Stop regretting everything else.”

  Silence stretched like a taut rope between them.

  Finally Sara met his gaze. “You know what, Ben? You’re right. You aren’t the man you were when you arrived in Paradise.”

  “I’ll take that as a good thing.” He walked toward the smoking grills. “You’re right—I better grab some of those ribs before they’re all gone.”

  She nodded, almost sadly.

  Ben took a deep breath, not seeing anything as he walked away from Sara. Suddenly everything had shifted. It wasn’t just about the clinic director position. No, things had become much more complicated. When had he fallen for her? He couldn’t pinpoint the moment. But there it was.

  Now he had to ask himself if he really wanted a future in Paradise without Sara Elliott.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “If I were paranoid, which I’m not, I’d say you were avoiding me,” Ben commented as he poured coffee into his cup on Tuesday morning. After spending the weekend doing nothing but thinking, he was determined to get their friendship back on track after the disaster at the barbecue. But Monday he’d barely glimpsed her passing his office, and then she disappeared for the day. Sara’s head popped up from around the refrigerator door. “My father’s cardiologist is in Denver. So if driving four hours to Denver yesterday was avoiding you, then yes, I’m definitely avoiding you.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were going? I would have been happy to g
o with you.”

  “I needed time to think, Ben.”

  Time to think? Think about what? That kiss on Saturday? Or maybe how she’d shot him down and left him for dead?

  He paused and chastised himself. This wasn’t about him; it was about her father.

  Either way, it didn’t sound good.

  “So what did the cardiologist have to say?” he asked.

  “Well, he opened with the usual chastisements, but my father didn’t take in a word. He thinks he’s God and a medical professional rolled into one.” Sara released a frustrated sigh.

  “And I thought only doctors had God complexes,” Ben said.

  “Ben, this is serious. My father has more cardiac arrhythmia than I want to think about, along with cardiomegaly issues related to his congestive heart failure. By ignoring his condition and not following his medication regime, he’s a ticking bomb ready to go off.”

  “I’m sorry you have to deal with this,” Ben said.

  “Thanks. I guess part of me is feeling guilty for not being on top of things. I thought he was just giving me smack talk when he said he wasn’t going to take his pills.”

  “You can’t blame yourself,” Ben said.

  “Yes, actually, I can. I think he’s given up.”

  “Maybe he’s depressed. I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. But it’s not unusual for depression to follow chronic illness, and then the cycle just repeats itself. The depressed patient is much more likely to become a noncompliant patient.”

  She stared at him, her eyes widening. “You know, you’re absolutely right. I’m so close to the problem, I can’t even see objectively to make the right decisions. If it had been one of my patients, I would have picked up on that immediately.”

  “So what did the heart doc recommend?” Ben asked.

  “A pacemaker. Apparently he recommended it weeks ago, and my father already vetoed that plan of care.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. Why?”

  Sara quoted her father. “If the good Lord wanted me to have a pacemaker, He would have given me one.” She shook her head. “This would be amusing if he wasn’t my father. This time his money can’t buy him what he needs—a large dose of common sense. To make matters worse, the cardiac practice has concluded the same thing. They don’t care how much money he has. When the name Hollis Elliott is spoken, they all run—in the other direction. He’s been fired as a patient.”