Always

by Deb Stover

  "Batting a thousand," he muttered as he checked his appointment book.

  "Goldie's here to have her stitches removed," Sue said, her monthly scowl worse than usual.

  "Bad night?" Gordon raised an eyebrow, realizing his error before the words even left his mouth. "Oops."

  Sue swerved around to face him. "Living dangerously these days, Doctor?" An insidious smile spread itself across her face. "After Goldie, Precious and Mrs. Johnson are next on your agenda."

  "You're like Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde sometimes. You know that?"

  "Ms. Hyde is armed, dangerous, and low on estrogen. Watch it." She batted her lashes. "Next thing you know, I'll be howling at the, uh, moon."

  "Yes, ma'am." He looked up from Goldie's chart to survey his waiting room. "Are these all mine?"

  "Nope." Sue pulled Taylor's appointment book in front of her. "Only three of them are yours."

  "Is Taylor with a patient?"

  "Not here yet."

  Gordon searched Sue's expression. "Did she know she had morning appointments?"

  "Only two of them were in the book." Sue released a ragged sigh. "Most are drop-ins."

  "Hmm. I thought only vets and hairdressers had that problem." Gordon tucked Goldie's chart under his arm and stepped into the waiting room. "Sally and Goldie, are you ready to get rid of some stitches?"

  "Where's the new doctor?" Gladys Jones asked. "I've been waiting forever."

  "I have no idea."

  Mrs. Jones dabbed her nose delicately with a tissue. "I'm allergic to dogs, you know."

  Gordon gritted his teeth as he took Sally's arm. "I'll have Sue give Dr. Bowen a call and see what's keeping her. Meanwhile, there's a bench right outside where you can wait, if you prefer."

  "I'm not about to miss my turn." Mrs. Jones glowered at the other waiting patients. "I was here first."

  "I already called her," Sue said as Gordon passed the desk. "No answer. Maybe she had car trouble."

  The chances of them both having car trouble the same morning were slim. Then again, having car trouble was the norm these days. Frowning, Gordon led Sally and Goldie to an exam room. It wasn't like Taylor to be irresponsible. If she knew she had appointments, she would've been here. Only something very serious would prevent that.

  Could something have happened? Was the old house really safe? Had the furnace been checked for carbon monoxide? Could the old wiring have started a fire? No, he would've heard about a fire.

  "I think Goldie is much better now," Sally said as Gordon lifted the dog onto the table. "She'd sure like to get at those stitches, though."

  "They itch as they heal. That's normal." Gordon exposed the neat suture line. "Taylor did a good job." Where is she? "Goldie's healing nicely. No sign of infection either."

  "Good." Sally beamed, stroking the dog's golden fur. "I don't know what I'd do without her. There's a waiting list, and besides that, another dog just wouldn't be...Goldie."

  Gordon cleared his throat, grateful the dog's injury hadn't been more serious. "Well, I think she'll be with you a good long while yet. She's healthy and well cared for."

  "Only the best for Goldie."

  Gordon removed the stitches, then the cone around Goldie's neck. She immediately started licking the wound. Smiling, he scratched her behind the ears. "Good as new, girl, as soon as the hair grows back."

  "Thank you, Doctor," Sally said with a smile.

  Gordon led Sally and Goldie to the front door of the clinic, and stood staring up at the rapidly darkening sky. Where was Taylor? Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. "Do you have a ride, Sally?"

  "Tom's waiting in the car. Thank you again, and please thank Dr. Bowen for me, too."

  "I will." If she ever shows up. He watched Goldie lead Sally directly to Tom Bradshaw's blue Explorer. "That's one helluva dog you've got there, Sally."

  "I know," she said without turning.

  Several patients griped about Taylor's tardiness as he made his way back through the crowded waiting room. He stopped at Sue's desk and picked up Precious's chart. "Call Taylor's house again, please."

  "Will do."

  "Okay, Precious and Mrs. Johnson, you're next."

  "Oh, Doctor, Precious is depressed," Mrs. Johnson said as she shuffled through the door Gordon held open for her.

  The woman's perfume made his eyes burn, and she wore enough make-up on her wrinkled face to supply all the women in Digby.

  "Do they make Prozac for Persians?" she asked without stopping.

  Sue cleared her throat and he rolled his eyes heavenward. Yes, his day was definitely off to a great beginning. Not.

  After pronouncing Precious's diet a success and her depression a temporary stage in her adjustment to a healthier lifestyle, Gordon escorted them back to the waiting room, which was even more crowded than before.

  "This is nuts." He looked at Sue. "Did you call her again?"

  "Still no answer."

  "Maybe someone should go check on her." He arched a brow. "Do you mind?"

  Sue chewed her lower lip. "I think I should stay here to keep the peace." The phone rang and she deftly handled another disaster. "You're a real wimp and a pushover," she said as she returned the phone to its cradle. "You have one more patient, then you can run over and check on her."

  Gordon narrowed his gaze, wondering if Sue was trying to play matchmaker again. Yet her suggestion made perfect sense. He had one patient and Taylor had a room full. And Sue was definitely more adept than he at organizing chaos.

  "Okay, fine." He gave the Smith's cocker her shots and a check-up, then sent them on their way. He stopped at Sue's desk. "No Taylor yet?"

  "Nope."

  Gordon stripped off his lab coat. "Go ahead and start rescheduling her patients for this afternoon. I'll be right back."

  He climbed into his Jeep, but it wouldn't start. Lightning split the sky again, so he immediately ruled out walking as an option. He hurried back inside and borrowed Sue's car keys, then peeled out of the parking lot in her old red Chevy. The upholstery was torn and there was no radio. When he'd advised her to buy something with four-wheel drive, she told him having a home for Ryan was more important than a fancy car. Sue earned every dime Gordon paid her, and then some, but it was still hard for her to make ends meet.

  Besides, as Sue had pointed out, he had a lot of nerve advising anyone to buy a better car. Hell, at least her old Chevy ran.

  As he turned the corner onto Aspen Drive, he saw Taylor's Bug at the side of the road. Making a mental note to give Sue a raise, he pulled the parking brake and killed the ignition.

  He found Taylor at the rear of the car, where she was bent over staring at something. Of course, VWs had the engine in the rear. He'd forgotten that.

  "I guess we can both have car trouble on the same day."

  Taylor looked up and shook her head. "I'm sorry, I know I have patients waiting. I was getting ready to hoof it to the clinic."

  "Let me have a look." Gordon shrugged. "Foreign car."

  Taylor sighed. "So? Lots of people drive foreign cars these days."

  "I know, but I don't understand them as well." They stood shoulder to shoulder, and he grew increasingly aware of her scent, her warmth, her nearness. "Did you check your gas gauge?"

  "I stopped last night after..." Her cheeks flamed as he met her gaze, but she didn't look away. "I got gas on my way home last night."

  The sky opened and icy sheets of rain soaked them within seconds. "Get in and try the engine," he shouted.

  "You'll get wet."

  "Too late." He grinned, shivering against the downpour. "Try the engine."

  Taylor climbed into the car and turned the key. He heard the motor turn over, but that was it. After a few moments, she gave up and climbed out with her medical bag and purse.

  "Forget it," she shouted over the rain and thunder. "I was right about giving up."

  He dropped the hood and they bolted for Sue's car, both gasping as they slid across the vinyl seat. Mopping rain from hi
s forehead, he started the engine. "N-nothing c-colder than s-summer rain at n-nine thousand f-feet."

  "N-no k-kidding."

  He glanced at her sitting there dripping and shivering, then his breath left his lungs in a sudden gush. Her soaked yellow knit dress clung like a second skin, and her nipples were clearly defined beneath the wet fabric.

  She turned toward him and he jerked his gaze from her tempting breasts to her face, realizing immediately that she knew exactly where he'd been looking. "I, uh..."

  "We'd better go straight to the clinic," she said.

  "No, you're soaked and Sue already rescheduled your appointments."

  "Oh, then let's go to my house so I can change and you can get dry," she whispered, pushing her damp hair away from her face. "And call Sue."

  He swallowed the lump in his throat, struggling against the scorching need to tug her against him, to stroke her rain-slick shoulder, to lap the sparkling droplets from her face and neck and–

  Whoa.

  No longer the least bit cold, he faced forward and turned on the windshield wipers. The windows were completely fogged over. Chuckling, he flipped the defroster to high and glanced at Taylor. Her cheeks reddened.

  "Seems we're always fogging up windows," he said quietly, no longer laughing.

  She turned to stare out the window as he maneuvered the Chevy away from Taylor's dead car, then down the hill to her driveway. "I'll call Sue and ask her to reschedule your appointments for this afternoon."

  "Thanks." Taylor opened the door. "And thanks for rescuing me."

  He pulled the key from the ignition and pivoted to stare at the perplexing woman again. "You're driving me crazy."

  She pushed the door open farther. "Don't, Gordon." She bit her lower lip and looked away again. "We'd better call Sue."

  Sighing, he watched her jump from the car and make a mad dash for the front door. What the hell was he going to do about this? He wanted her. He burned with the need to touch her, to taste her, to hold her. All he thought about was Taylor Bowen–what they'd had.

  What they'd lost.

  Angrily, he jerked open the car door and followed Taylor into the small living room or parlor or whatever they called rooms these days in houses built before the turn of the century. Frustration knotted in his gut as he stood dripping on a small rug in the entry.

  "I'll get you a towel." Taylor disappeared through the kitchen, returning a moment later with two pink towels. "There's the phone. Call Sue while I change."

  Sighing, he slipped off his shoes and dried his face and neck, then made his way to the phone. Sue picked up on the first ring. Her tone and the background racket told Gordon things had gone from bad to worse since his departure.

  "Taylor's car broke down," he said. "There's a bonus in this for you, Sue. I'm sorry for leaving you with that madhouse."

  "No problem," she said in a suspiciously sweet tone. "Take as long as you need. I already rescheduled all your appointments for afternoon. Have lunch."

  Have lunch? This wasn't the Sue Wheeler he knew and feared. "Okay, sure." He glanced at his watch. "We'll be back by one o'clock."

  "Taylor's next appointment isn't until two."

  A dog barked in the background and someone sneezed. "Are you sure, Sue?"

  "Positive. I have everything under control." She gave a nervous laugh. "Don't I always come through?"

  Gordon hesitated. "Yeah, actually." He cleared his throat. "All right, we'll see you at two, but page me if anything comes up. Maybe one of these days we'll get a microwave tower up here so cell phones will actually work."

  "Don't hold your breath." Sue laughed again, then the steady hum of a dial tone replaced his receptionist's voice in his ear.

  "Okay." He hung up the phone and rubbed the towel over his head again, squeezing water out of his pony tail. Maybe he had time to run home and change, too. No, he didn't want to leave Sue there alone any longer than necessary.

  "Everything all right?" Taylor asked from the bottom of the stairs.

  He spun around to face her, the pink towel still clutched in his fist. She'd replaced the yellow knit dress with a blue cardigan sweater and a pair of softly faded jeans. A brand new pair of hiking boots encased her feet.

  "I see you surrendered." He flashed her a grin.

  "Yep, no more sandals or sun dresses for me until I'm back down below a mile high."

  The reminder that she planned to leave sliced through him, but he forcibly shoved his discomfort aside. "Do you suppose I could toss my jeans and shirt in your dryer?" He shrugged and managed a smile.

  "Sure, but shouldn't we get back?" She waved her hand, indicating he should follow. "I take it Sue was able to reschedule our appointments?"

  "Super Receptionist strikes again." He tried not to watch the way Taylor's jeans hugged the cheeks of her bottom. Perfection.

  "What time do we have to be back?" she asked over her shoulder as she led him through the kitchen.

  "Uh, two."

  "That late?" She pushed open a dark green swinging door. "Utility room. Help yourself."

  "Sue said she'd schedule everybody after lunch. It's bound to be a late night." He stepped into the narrow doorway and looked down at his hostess. Her green eyes sparkled as thunder rumbled in the distance. Lightning struck somewhere nearby, making the floor vibrate beneath their feet.

  She was so close. So accessible. He braced himself against the wall with one arm and dropped his towel to the floor. Gently, he brushed the backs of his fingers along her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into the caress, igniting an inferno in his veins.

  He cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her face upward. Her eyes fluttered open, their expression mirroring his conflict as if she had a direct connection to his brain. And heart.

  "Don't," she whispered, her lower lip trembling. "Please."

  Her words had the same effect as a frigid mountain stream. He clenched his fists and dropped his hands to his sides. "I'm sorry."

  She shifted into the kitchen, deftly putting some distance between them. "I'd better call someone about my car while you're getting dry. I could heat some soup."

  He cleared his throat. "Soup sounds good. Thanks." He went into the utility room and closed the door, then emptied his pockets onto the top of the dryer. He set the dryer to run on high then leaned against the washing machine and waited. His jeans were only damp, so they shouldn't take too long.

  Sue had said he should talk to Taylor. This was the perfect opportunity. They were alone. They had a couple of hours to kill. And he was in his underwear with Taylor on the other side of the door.

  "Shit, don't go there."

  He reeled in his wayward thoughts to Sue's lecture. Rubbing the back of his neck, he pondered his options. If he told Taylor everything, she'd realize the mistake she'd made ten years ago. Would it make any difference now?

  He remembered the day he'd gone to her house and learned she was gone. Her mother had refused to speak to him, but Taylor's father hadn't hesitated. He'd told Gordon that his little girl was too good for a two-timing bastard, and that was that.

  Gordon's throat had burned with unshed tears. Boys didn't cry, and he was almost a man by then.

  A man with a broken heart.

  Taylor had hurt him in the worst possible way. She hadn't loved him as much as he'd loved her. If she had, she would've come to him and asked for the truth. Instead, she ran away and tossed their love aside like an old pair of socks.

  She hadn't come to him then for the truth. Why should he offer it to her now? It obviously wasn't important to her. No, he wouldn't volunteer anything. If Sue wanted to, that was her business. As far as he was concerned, Taylor was the one who owed him an explanation. It all boiled down to one thing.

  A matter of trust.

  * * *

  The moment the utility room door closed, Taylor leaned against the kitchen table and counted to ten. Gordon had almost kissed her again. Even worse, she'd wanted him to.

  "You cannot
do this," she muttered. Gordon had cheated on her with her best friend. How could she still want him now?

  She didn't. All this was a simple case of hormones. She could handle this.

  "Prove it." Gnashing her teeth, she grabbed the phone directory and opened it to auto repair. She had two choices in Digby. One name looked familiar, so she dialed that one. She explained her situation, then gave the man her name and address. "I'd heard you were back in Digby," the man said. "I'll bet you don't remember me."

  She glanced at the mechanic's name again. "Well, your name is familiar, but I–"

  "I'm crushed," he said, chuckling. "Your brother and me played baseball together in high school."

  Of course. Her brother Mike had been Digby High's starting pitcher, and Rick Miller the catcher. "Rick, yes, I do remember you."

  After several minutes of small talk, Taylor arranged to have her car towed to Rick's garage, then opened a can of vegetable soup and dumped it into a pan. She grabbed some garlic bread from the freezer and turned on the oven to preheat, then stirred the soup.

  Gordon was obviously going to hide in there with his clothes. Well, fine. He was being childish. And why hadn't he offered her an explanation about what happened between him and Sue on graduation night?

  Ryan looked just like his mother, so there were no clues there. Maybe Taylor should just ask for the truth. No, if she asked, Gordon might think she cared.

  She didn't, of course.

  Well, not much anyway. All right, even if Gordon wasn't Ryan's father, the fact remained that he'd slept with her best friend right after being with her. Damn. Taylor practically threw the bread into the oven, then glowered at the closed utility room door. What the hell was he doing in there?

  Of course, he was practically naked. "Get a grip." She drew a deep breath and set the table. From now on, she would not react to Gordon or do anything to encourage his advances. Nothing.

  I'll tell him about Jeremy.

  The utility room door squeaked open and Gordon padded out carrying his socks. "All dry," he said, his tone and expression stoic. "Thanks."