by C J Marie
“So, family medicine.”
Dot nodded. “You comfortable with that?”
Jo grinned, remembering the small family clinic she did rotations at during school. “I really enjoy family practice believe it or not.”
“I thought you were into cardiac care. At least that’s what Zac told us,” Lily said through a mouthful of breaded okra.
“I work at a cardiac clinic in Boston,” Jo said. “But my first interest was general practice. I love the variety, I guess.”
“It’s busy,” Dot warned. “Especially at nights, but we could open up five to six evenings a week if you came to help. It would help a lot of folks. I already spoke about it with Doctor Raymond, and he’s willing to be the supervising physician like you mentioned. He seemed rather relieved actually.”
Jo couldn’t ignore the swirling tightening in the center of her stomach. She belonged in patient care, and as much as she wished August hadn’t hurt his hand, Jo couldn’t deny tending to a need had soothed an itch mounting in her soul. “I’m willing, and if the judge allows it, I’d love to help.”
Dot blew out her lips and Olive rolled her eyes. “Oh, I doubt McKinnon will fight this as long as everyone agrees. He’s not one to make waves and bring more courtroom shenanigans more than necessary. Besides, it’s for a wonderful cause.”
Jo agreed, but bit the inside of her cheek. “If Zac has a problem with it, I doubt the judge would agree since it’s clear there’s a connection there. I have half a mind to scream conflict of interest in the entire sentence.”
“Half a mind, but you don’t,” Lily said with meaning. Jo met her sparkling eyes that seemed to see something even Jo couldn’t see.
With a sigh, Jo leaned back in her chair. “It’s not like I don’t realize that a I rammed into the pump. I wish Zac hadn’t called the police, but—don’t ever tell him this—I can understand why he did.” She bit out the words. “I could appeal, I guess, but I don’t think it would go anywhere. My boyfriend’s father is an attorney in Boston, and he advised I don’t try and fight it or the sentence could have the opposite outcome. As in more fines, or time. Not worth the risk.”
“Well, you’ve given it some thought,” Dot teased, brushing her cinnamon hair over her shoulder and grinning. “I suppose community service could be worse than hanging out with three—excuse me I always forget about Mouse—four, handsome mechanics all day. Especially if you come hang out at the clinic, it won’t be all bad, will it?”
Jo shook her head. “No, it’s not as bad as it could be.” Jo glanced at Olive, feeling embarrassed to even ask. “If I do work at the clinic, I might need to take you up on your offer for a car.”
Olive beamed. “It’s yours.”
Jo looked toward the large window as if the car were parked right outside. “It’s a nice car though…”
Olive laughed. “It is, but even if you crash into gas pumps, I get the feeling I can trust you.”
“Besides, Ollie’s daddy would buy her another one if anything happens to the silver bullet,” Dot laughed.
Olive scoffed. “Oh, for goodness sake he would not. I told you, Rafe and I live on our salaries alone. I just happen to really love the car.”
Jo smiled, more curious about the background of Olive the schoolteacher who wore genuine pearls and drove a new BMW. Lily seemed to catch on and leaned in. “You’ll need to go on up to Olive’s parents’ house someday. The place is enormous and the gardens are breathtaking this time of year.”
“Really?” Jo asked, glancing at Olive, who only shrugged though there was some crimson in her face. “Is it an old plantation?”
Olive shook her head. “Oh, nothing like that—although we should take you to see one while you’re here. My parents have property, but that belongs to mama and daddy, I’m quite content where I am.”
Dot laughed and shoved Olive’s shoulder. “Be content, but it’s nice to have the Big House to visit every once in a while, even you can admit that.”
“You should talk,” Olive gushed. “Living in that big beach house by yourself. You’re like a queen in her castle.”
“Don’t forget it either.”
Jo laughed with them, finding her prejudiced opinion of toothless, ignorant people in the south, completely wrong and backward. She liked these ladies. There, she said it. Even more, she liked August and Rafe. Jo swallowed. She liked Zac Dawson.
Once the waitress brought boxes for their leftover food, Dot cornered Jo before they could leave the table. “So, do I have a firm yes from you about the clinic? I’ll need to get the paperwork settled with my parents and let Doctor Raymond know.”
“I want to, I assure you. That isn’t the problem. I guess it’s in Zac’s hands really, and how much pull he has with the judge. If he even talks to the man. Maybe he’ll keep me at the shop longer just to spite me.”
She must have missed the joke because all three women glanced at each other. “I wouldn’t worry about Zac standing in your way.”
Jo wiped a drop of mustard off her chin from her sloppy, greasy bite. “Don’t be so sure. I’m not exactly Zac’s favorite person.”
Lily snorted in her water and Olive tapped the table with a grin. Dot simply stared with a goofy twitch to her lips.
“I think Zac will be just fine with whatever you choose,” Olive insisted.
Jo smiled suspiciously; one brow lifted. “What’s so funny? Do you know something I don’t know?”
Olive shook her head, her red bottom lip pinching between her teeth. “No. I’ve known Zac for a long time, and just trust me—I don’t think he’d want to stand in the way of anything that might make you feel a little better.”
Jo must have missed a joke because all three of her lunch guests laughed through their noses and ate without saying another word about Zac and community service.
Jo rushed from the tiny bathroom in the motel room. She smiled as she answered the phone. “Emmitt,” she said with a sigh. “Hi. I didn’t expect you to call.”
He grunted on the other end. “I have to go in early to the clinic. Greta needs some help with a patient, so if I didn’t answer when you called I didn’t want you to get moody.”
“I don’t get moody.”
Emmitt chuckled. “Okay, whatever you say, Jo.”
“I’m glad you called. I have exciting news.”
“Did you get time served for good behavior?”
He was obviously trying to joke with her—either to tease or help her feel better—Jo opted to settle on the latter since it placed him in a more compassionate boyfriend light. “No, I wish,” she said. “I’m going to be able to work in that clinic I mentioned.”
It was quiet for a small pause. “You were serious about that?”
“Yeah. I need to do something before I go insane. I don’t mean this twisted or anything, but when I was suturing that mechanic’s hand yesterday—I felt like myself for once.”
“I get that, what I don’t get is why you want to work at a grungy family clinic.”
“Why do you think it’s grungy? The people who own it are as far from grungy as you can be.”
“Come on, Jo. It’s a free clinic, right? Low-income…”
“That’s an arrogant thing to say, Emmitt. Not everyone has good insurance, or can afford care all the time. It doesn’t mean they’re grungy.”
“I know, Jo—I’m the doctor, right? I understand how insurance works.”
Emmitt rarely tossed the doctor card in her face. She had a lot of liberties with her education, though she did still need a supervising physician, and Emmitt ran with it sometimes.
“Well, I’m hoping I can start covering nights.”
“Why are you doing this?” he asked, in such a way it sounded as though Jo was betraying him.
“Doing what?”
“I mean, why a general practice clinic? I thought you were specializing in cardiac care?”
Jo scoffed. “Emmitt, I am, but for the next three weeks, if I can do what I love to do,
then I think it’s a small victory.”
Emmitt sighed, and Jo could picture him raking his hand through his hair. “I thought we talked about family practice a long time ago. I thought you got all that out of your system.”
“It’s not a bad place to work, Emmitt,” she said rubbing the bridge of her nose. “You know I enjoy family practice.”
He groaned. “Yes, I know, and I also know it’s some unhealthy connection to your dad and look where that got him.” Jo sucked in a breath, her heart thudding like a frog’s croak in the back of her throat. Silence for at least ten heartbeats until Emmitt awkwardly cleared his throat. “Listen, sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I just want you to stay focused. We have goals, Jo. If I’m going to be a renowned heart surgeon, I’m going to need your support and it helps if you understand what I’m talking about. I’ll be that much further ahead if I have a partner who can understand the ins and outs of cardiac care.”
Jo nodded. Right, a partner. Though in this moment she felt this partnership was turning one-sided. “I know, Emmitt. I’m staying focused, every night I study for the certification exam next month.”
“Good.”
“But until I’m back home, I’m going to work in the clinic here.”
Her voice was flat, and frustrated tears from memories she kept buried inside were ripped to the surface from his one comment.
Emmitt groaned again. “Fine. Do what you want, Jo, if it will help you stay positive and not grumbly like this every day, fine. I’ve got to go now. Talk to you later, sweetie.”
“Okay, bye.”
“Jo, don’t be a princess.”
“I’m not. I’m tired, Emmitt. Love you, bye.”
“Alright, bye.”
The call ended and Jo tossed her phone aside, her blood boiling as she replayed the conversation. Was it so much to ask for support for her? Was it such a terrible goal to offer care to families? Low-income, median-income, high-income, it didn’t matter at family clinics. Everyone became equal people looking for help for themselves or loved ones in Jo’s eyes. It was one of the reasons she’d enjoyed family practice so much. Despite what insurance might dictate at times, Jo had made it a practice to never view a patient differently simply because of their wallet size. Maybe Emmitt was right, though. Family practice was part of her, and it might not be right to live in the past.
Shaking away the thought, Jo stuffed every piece of clothing she’d worn since coming to Honeyville into a bag. Laundry was at critical level or she’d be smelling up the shop in no time. Glancing at the clock, she assumed Zac would still be at the shop. He rarely left when the employees left.
The conversation with Emmitt rolled around like a lead ball in the pit of her stomach as she trudged down the road. Enough that Jo didn’t take the time to get nervous about stepping foot for the first time in Zac’s house. She hadn’t gone over after stitching August’s hand. She’d talked herself out of it until she ended up soaking her bloody shirt in the motel shower all night.
She was too mad to worry about crashing into the man who angered her for his role in this upheaval, but also intrigued her more each day.
***
Zac wiped the steam from the mirror, his muscles still aching from the labor of the day. He stretched his arm, hearing a crack as he drifted about his bathroom. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he flipped on an electric trimmer and tamed most of his flyaway whiskers before his mother snuck in and did it herself. Tonight he was tired, and his shoulders curled forward to prove his point. Talking to Judge McKinnon was exhausting, especially when the man droned on about fishing trips, and a friendly warning—never get the judge started on Agatha Dawson. No matter how many times Zac insisted his mother was fine and had all her needs met, McKinnon retorted that he needed to stop by since she didn’t have any ‘male help with the house’. Who did McKinnon think Zac and Uncle Kent were? Guys who lugged around, raiding the refrigerator every other day? Zac opted not to warn McKinnon that hinting to Agatha she couldn’t handle something simply because of her gender wouldn’t go over well. It would be entertaining to watch.
Despite McKinnon’s long-winded lips, Zac had good news to report to Jo the next day. If she could resist scowling at him to speak. Those eyes—they were hypnotizing sometimes, the way her pale coloring tinted almost purple when the light struck them just right. He’d admired how Jo had slipped next to August without hesitating when he’d cut his hand. Her soothing tone, her quick, gentle hands—she had a gift for easing fears in people, it was clear watching her work. And it bothered him more than before that he was the reason she was pulled away from that life. He hadn’t needed to let his temper rile that night, she could have paid for the damage and they would have gone their separate ways.
A clatter down the hallway startled Zac from his wandering thoughts of Jo Graham. Flipping the switch on the razor, Zac arched his face toward the door, listening for the noise again. A low, rumble that sounded like a distant car humming to life, sent his taut muscles even more on edge. Opening the bathroom door, he rushed through his bedroom, trying to avoid the scattered clothes along the floor. He’d pick those up later.
Easing the door open to the hallway he blew out a sigh. The rumble was the tumbling barrel of the washing machine. But then again—he wasn’t doing laundry.
Creeping along the hallway, Zac peered around the door frame, smiling when he caught sight of Jo’s blonde braid swinging back and forth as she swayed her curvy hips to whatever sound blared through her pink headphones.
Her tongue clicked and her hum echoed in the small room. There was something sweet and curious watching the way her head bobbed to the music. Zac took a step into the small room, his body inching closer until his mind settled into a fog once he inhaled the aroma of silky vanilla on her skin. Reaching his hand for her arm, his fingertips brushed along her shoulder. Zac swallowed back a laugh when she screamed and tossed a cup filled with powdery detergent so it snowed down blue and white crystals over their heads.
Jo locked her gaze with Zac, she fumbled for her footing, and fell back. Zac blazed into action, his arm wrapping around her waist to steady her. He’d all but forgotten his chest was bare and naked until the thrill of Jo’s fingertips rippled along the surface of his damp biceps. Zac held the towel around his waist closed with his free hand for good measure as the flush of nakedness rushed his face. It would have been smarter to get some pants on at least. Too late.
Their eyes met. With a trembling pause, Zac took in everything all at once. Jo’s chest heaved against his bare skin as her adrenaline ceased. The rounded points of her nails dug into the backs of his arms, but he didn’t mind the way her touch surged a new desire through his system. Her full lips parted, they were bare, but the smooth natural color dragged a need to taste them deep enough Zac hardly knew how to hold back. Did Jo think things about him too? The tips of her fingers tracing his skin, let him believe she did. Her eyes flicked off his, she glimpsed at his bare chest. Did she want to touch his body like he wanted to get close to her? Zac knew every thought was wrong, stupid, and pointless. But when her hair draped along the curve of her neck like that, it wasn’t worth the fight of not imagining what it might be like to brush his mouth along the smooth, pearly hollow of her neck.
Jo’s breath hitched, he heard the sound when her face stayed mere inches from his, and he caught the way she swallowed with effort when his long fingers splayed along the small of her back as if every inch of her body were designed to fit in his palms.
“Why,” she rasped, released his arms and tugged out the earbuds, her eyes never blinking. “Why, uh…are you…naked?”
Zac scanned the ripples of his toned body, slightly embarrassed he was pressing Jo’s body against his own when he didn’t even have pants on. He grinned, enjoying the way her top teeth bit into the pale pink of her bottom lip. His skin was an inferno of want, the tighter his arm slipped around her body. Bold, and probably a crossing a line, Zac leaned forward so he could feel her breath o
n his face. “Maybe I was waiting for a moment like this—just to see those cheeks color like the sunset. Do I make you nervous, Jo?”
She shook her head, but she didn’t pull back. Interesting. “No, of course not,” she croaked. “I’m doing laundry.”
Zac released a rattling breath, his instincts to kiss her straining harder against the close encounter. He was considering closing the gap, but something about this woman had him up in arms. He didn’t think it was the frosty tone she typically kept, no—it was something else. Jo Graham sparked an intrigue inside him. For the first time in a long time, Zac wanted to know a woman, because he doubted he would ever grow tired of learning everything Jo had to offer.
Chapter 8
Zac kept his face pulled in an arrogant smirk as Jo eased out of his hold. If he revealed how his insides had filled with lead, it would be his face that was pink and rosy right now, not Jo’s. She tucked a few feathery pieces of hair loose out of her braid, before she ducked into his dryer and pulled out a pair of shorts and some shirts.
“I didn’t think you’d be here,” she muttered, her voice was sharp, but it didn’t seem like she was pointing her temper at him for once.
“I thought someone was breaking in,” he chuckled.
“Do you normally confront intruders without clothing?” For the briefest moment, Zac caught her tongue wet the edge of her lips.
Zac enjoyed the way she ran her eyes down his abs—he worked hard for those—but Jo wasn’t shying away. Her sure footing returned and she popped her hip to hold the basket of cleaned clothes. She was ready to tease, challenge, or torment him. Bring it on.
“Only the ones that look like you,” Zac added with a dramatic growl.
She rolled her eyes, and added the wet clothes to the dryer before brushing out of the small laundry room toward his living room. She plopped down on his sofa like she owned the place and started folding the few pieces of clothes. “If that’s how you pick up women, Zachariah, it’s no surprise you’re single.”