The Doctor's Redemption (Shadow Creek, Montana)

by Victoria James

  What had to be fifteen minutes later, while he was deep into the Sports section, he heard lots of crashing followed by loud cursing. He sighed and ignored it. More crashing. More cursing. He stretched out his legs. You can’t go back there, Luke. Sit still. It was when he heard the giant crash that he decided he couldn’t just sit there any longer. He made his way to the back and pushed the swing door open and assessed the situation in front of him. Gwen was standing over what looked like a pile of dessert, her eyes filled with tears.

  “Uh, you okay?” he asked. Since he’d spent the last month or so trying not to talk to Gwen, he noticed he came across somewhat like a Neanderthal.

  She crouched down in front of the food and picked up a large piece of what he could now tell was pie. “I’m fine. You can go back to your coffee.”

  Don’t spend time with her. You checked up on her, she’s fine. Go sit.

  He walked forward and crouched down in front of her, eyeing the pie. “That sucks.”

  She sighed and looked up at him. He quickly looked down at the pie because sitting this close to Gwen, looking at Gwen was dangerous. Her eyes made him uncomfortable. They held so many secrets and so many truths. He read the interest in them daily, but it was nothing he could act on so it just made him miserable.

  “Yeah, you don’t know the half of it. I have spent a week trying to get this recipe right. It’s a low-carb, sugar-free pie recipe that I’m trying to surprise my pie-addicted, prediabetic, father with,” she said, standing.

  He joined her at the counter. “It looks good. Smells good too.”

  She shrugged. “Yeah. Do you want to try?”

  He looked down at the piece she was holding, the glass pie plate under it.

  “Don’t worry, there’s no glass in here. I think.”

  He couldn’t help but grin. “Death by pie. I’m willing to take the risk.”

  Her eyes lit up and something inside him came alive for the first time in a long time. He took the piece and sampled it. “It’s really good,” he said. The warm blueberries were tart and sweet at the same time and the crust was moist and slightly dense.

  “Oh, good. It’s an almond flour crust and I used maple syrup as the sweetener.”

  “It’s really good,” he said, swallowing the last bite.

  “Great.” Before he was done chewing, she was sweeping up the mess and then moving onto the island and shuffling some dishes around. “Do you like homemade mac’n’cheese?” she asked.

  “Considering your muffin is the only homemade thing I eat, I’ll say yes,” he said, walking over to join her.

  “Then here,” she said, handing him a small bowl and fork. “There’s nothing wrong with it, it was just too much to fit in the casserole dish.”

  He loaded his fork with as much of the gooey looking macaroni as possible and then ate it. It was like heaven in his mouth. “That’s pretty damn good,” he said in between mouthfuls. “Why do you have so much food?”

  “Oh,” she said, while she wrapped aluminum foil over two large casserole dishes. “It’s for a sick friend. I need to deliver them after work.”

  He stopped chewing for a second, her statement reminding him of the kind of people the Bailey’s were. They were good people. People who helped others. People who loved. He finished the last piece and then put his bowl and fork in the sink. “Thanks, uh, for the food.”

  He walked out of the kitchen, knowing he was being rude, but knowing it was for the best.

  Chapter Four

  Stupidest idea ever? Hosting a speed dating night. What had she been thinking?

  She would never, ever, in a million years date any of these guys. Gwen looked out at the filled chocolate shop and wondered what had ever possessed her to think this would be a good idea. She hated being judgemental, but she already had a nickname for each one of them. There was the Nerd, no explanation needed. Then there was the Narcissist, the Sexist, the Shyboy, the Mamasboy, the Know-it-all, and the Boobstarer.

  She felt awful for the women who came here tonight too—until she saw them all hooking up and leaving her standing in the middle of her shop alone! So, great. The only normal guy that said he would be here—Ben—got called into work so she was forced to deal with this crowd on her own.

  And of course, the Muffin Man was MIA.

  She shouldn’t be surprised. After yesterday’s weird encounter in the kitchen, she should know not to count on him. First he barged back into the kitchen like he was ready to rescue her from a fire, then he turned all indifferent again—except when he inhaled all the food. He looked totally fine then. And after he inhaled all the food, he just disappeared.

  The wind howled outside and snow was falling in large gusts. She didn’t even care. Usually late March snowstorms drove her crazy, but it felt rather perfect tonight. She watched the last of them leave and then locked up behind them. She wiped the tables one by one and tried not to cry. What was wrong with her? How hard was it to find a decent guy? She had been alone for so long. Was she so repulsive that even the dolts that were here tonight weren’t interested in her? She didn’t know how much longer she could wait. Her only other option would be to leave town. Maybe it was lack of men that was the problem. Maybe she needed a city, but she couldn’t leave Shadow Creek. She loved it here. She was too attached to her family, even though they drove her nuts. No, no. Her life was full. She didn’t need a man. Maybe her obsession with the Muffin Man was because he was unattainable. She knew nothing about him. He could be a crazed lunatic. She needed to stop that obsession. Maybe she should go out with Ben, but no, she didn’t want to lead him on.

  Gwen finished wiping the tables and then turned off the remaining lights. It was time to call it a night. She’d go back to her apartment down the street, put on flannel pj’s, and drink herself to bed. Then tomorrow when she woke up, she’d continue on this new path she’d set out for herself. The new Gwen wasn’t insecure and she was going to make sure the new Gwen wasn’t lonely either.

  …

  Luke leaned his head back against the headrest and swore out loud in his empty car. He felt like a stalker. He’d told Gwen he wouldn’t come to her singles night—and he had many valid reasons.

  First, he’d rather die than attend something like that. Second, he was supposed to be working tonight. Third…he didn’t want to be in a position where he’d be close to her. Gwen was off-limits to him. He already knew he was very attracted to her and that it was mutual. He already knew she was funny, sweet, and…hell, this was bad. But the crushed look on her pretty face had made him request the night off—which was something he never did. He was planning on sitting in his car and making sure she was fine. You could never be too careful. Jerks were everywhere.

  He wanted her to find someone tonight. Well, a part of him did. The other part didn’t want her to find anyone but him, but he did know that he didn’t want to see her cry, and he knew that was what was happening now. He’d also seen all the other losers leave, paired off in couples. Through the blustery snow outside his car, he could see her blowing her nose as she cleaned up the place. He spotted her yanking down the red flyer and tearing it to shreds. It confirmed what he’d already suspected—that tonight was about her finding someone. The way she’d looked at him when she asked him if he’d come tonight replayed in his mind over and over. He had no idea how he’d said no to her, which again was why he had said no to her. Dammit.

  He had no idea how any of those guys wouldn’t have wanted her. She looked stunning, even from across the road he could tell. She was wearing a body-hugging red dress, black leather high-heeled boots, and some little black too-small cardigan. Her hair was piled on top of her head and a few pieces dangled down.

  His gut clenched when she sat down at a table and put her head in her hands and he saw her shoulders shaking. Hell.

  He was going in.

  He got out of his car, swore because the storm was blowing gusts of wind and snow in his face, and then jogged across the street. Downtown Shadow C
reek was a ghost town at the moment because of the late hour and the storm. Huge drifts had formed and he hadn’t seen a plow out in hours. His gut tightened as he reached the door to her shop and noticed she hadn’t picked up her head yet. He knocked on the door and she sat up with a start, wiping her eyes with a napkin before turning and standing. She stopped dead in her tracks when she spotted him. Her eyes and nose were red, her hair was now all messed up, but as she walked toward him, he knew she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever known.

  She unlocked the door, her brows furrowed, her lips drawn into a frown, as she opened it and let him in. “It’s not morning. I don’t have any coffee or muffins ready.” She then tried to shut the door on him.

  Well, genius, what’s your plan? You didn’t want to see her cry, so now what? “I didn’t come for the muffins.” So now he was creeping her out because it was nighttime, her shop was empty, and he was looming over her. What was he going to say? He had been stalking her from across the street?

  “Oh.” She blew her nose again and crossed her arms.

  “Can I come in?”

  She nodded and moved aside. “Right. Sorry. So why are you here?”

  Why was he here… “I was driving by and saw the lights were on and you looked like you were crying.”

  Her eyes narrowed on him. “I thought you were working tonight.”

  “I got off early.”

  “Oh. I wasn’t crying. I have allergies sometimes.”

  He’d never seen her blow her nose once in the last few months that he’d been coming here. “Oh. Okay, well, if you’re fine then…”

  She started tapping her foot which then prompted him to notice those boots again, after an appreciative perusal of her body as his gaze made its way down. He wasn’t prepared for the hot Gwen look. Just as he was about to leave, relieved that she looked pissed rather than sad, the lights flickered and then went out. “What the hell?”

  They stood there, in darkness, watching as the entire town went to black.

  “Oh, crap. It’s the stupid storm,” she said, her voice sounding slightly panicked. “It’s so dark in here. Omigod, I don’t even have a flashlight. Ah! But I have all the votive candles from this stupid singles night.”

  “Do you know where they are?”

  “Yup. Matches are behind the counter. You stay there, I know my way around this place,” she said.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, wincing when he heard her crash into something.

  “Yup! No worries at all.”

  He heard another crash, some muffled swearing, then the whisper of a match being lit. He took one of the tea lights once it had been lit and helped her light them. In a few minutes there was enough light in the shop that they could make out their surroundings. This wasn’t good. Candlelight. A storm. And the one woman he wanted but couldn’t have. He couldn’t exactly leave her here like this. “Do you live close to here?” he asked.

  “Walking distance. Down the street, actually. I took over my sister-in-law’s place when she moved out last month.”

  “Can I walk you home?”

  “Do you live in town?”

  “’Bout a half hour out.”

  She looked beyond his shoulder. “I don’t think you’re going to make it home.”

  He turned around to look out the window. His SUV was buried in snow. “It’s pretty good in the snow.”

  “Usually the roads get shut down when we have a storm like this.”

  He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

  “Well, as long as you’re not insane or anything, you can stay at my place if you’d like,” she said, walking around the counter to grab her coat. He made sure to not be noticeably checking out the sway of her hips and how good she looked in the dress that clung to everything wonderful.

  He couldn’t go home with Gwen. He had told himself not to get involved with her. In his defense, when he’d first moved to Shadow Creek, he’d had a plan, he was focused. He’d walked into this little shop because it’d been the only place serving coffee early in the morning after his shift at the hospital. He hadn’t counted on the owner being one of the people whose lives he destroyed. He hadn’t counted on wanting to see her smile every day. But going home with her would only make the truth so much harder when it came out. God, he hated his life.

  “You know what?” she interrupted the silence, and he looked over at her, all bundled up now and marching toward the door like a woman with a bone to pick. He had no idea what he’d done to piss her off since he hadn’t spoken…

  “I don’t get you. You look like a guy who has a lot to say, yet you say nothing. You show up every day and barely say a word to me, but you have these…” She paused for a second, came up to him and waved her hand in front of his face. “These wounded eyes that make me feel like you need a friend. Then because you’re basically the only guy who…is mildly attractive, I ask you to this stupid singles night that I will never do again unless I have an early death wish, and you say no. Well, now you’re here, in a blizzard, barely saying a word and I invite you to stay at my place and all you can do is stand there…looking like that?” She waved a hand in front of him again.

  “Gwen.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You know my name?”

  He tried to fight the smile, he tried to fight the feeling, the attraction. He could. He totally could be in the same room with this woman, in the dark, and not make a move. He shouldn’t have taken a step forward, then. “I’ve been here every day except Sunday for over a month.”

  “Right,” she said, her voice suddenly breathless. This was going to end badly. “I don’t know your name.”

  “I believe you do.”

  She shook her head and another piece of her dark hair tumbled out. He flexed his hand, telling himself not to touch. “No, I really don’t.”

  “I think I’m the Muffin Man. Or TMM.”

  She slapped a hand across her mouth, her eyes wide as saucers. “Omigod.”

  He was done fighting the grin. She was pretty damn hilarious. “Yeah. Your voice has a tendency to carry.”

  Her hands covered her face now and she groaned. He laughed, and then he broke his first rule and reached out to touch her; he tried to pry her hands off her face and succeeded after a few seconds. He didn’t want to let go and she didn’t make a move to take her wrist from his hand. Dammit. She was looking up at him with those whiskey-colored eyes filled with the unmistakable sheen of attraction. “Okay, Muffin Man, then tell me what you’re really doing here tonight.” Her voice was soft and breathy, but the challenge was in it.

  He didn’t want her to go home with someone else. If he told her that, they’d be starting something. He couldn’t start something with Gwen Bailey. He owed the Baileys an apology, not this. Except she took a step into him, a challenge in her eyes, in the tilt of her chin. Ah, hell. As if he’d ever refuse her, and he’d always been one to walk into a challenge.

  He had amazing self-control and self-discipline. He could kiss her once and then walk away, maybe then he’d get her out of his system. Maybe it was just attraction to a woman unlike any other he’d ever been with. But he couldn’t get involved with her.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets, because if not, he was going to pull her close. “I didn’t want you to go out with some guy from speed dating.”

  Her eyes widened. “Really?”

  He gave a quick nod. He hated lying. The truth wasn’t so great either.

  “Would you say you find me somewhat attractive?”

  Somewhat? He gave another nod. He had no idea where she was going with this.

  “Are you married or dating someone?”

  “Nope.”

  She gave him a huge smile. “Great. Then you can take me out on a date next week.”

  He coughed. Choked, really. “Excuse me?’

  She nodded. “Yup. I think you’ll be perfect.”

  “You…can’t get a date?”

  Her face turned red. “Of
course I can. I just happen to be very picky. You seem like someone I would date.”

  Oh, man. He hadn’t seen this one coming. He couldn’t date Gwen, and why couldn’t she find a date? Any of those losers he’d seen in here would have been lucky to have her. “I can’t date you.”

  Her smile dipped and a flash of insecurity dashed across her incredible eyes. “Why?”

  His gut tightened. He caught the faint tremor in her voice. Crap. As long as there weren’t tears in her eyes he’d be fine. He’d caused this woman enough tears. He searched for the right words. Finally, he came up with, “I don’t think we’re right for each other.” There. That wasn’t insulting. It also wasn’t lying, but it was firm.

  Her chin trembled again, but then she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Oh, like as in, I’m not your type? You wouldn’t date me?”

  Uh-oh. It was as though he was falling into some deep, dark hole of female double speak that he was not programmed to understand. It was like there was an entirely different conversation playing in her head. He was about to tell her that he didn’t mean it like that when she continued speaking.

  “Never mind. I wouldn’t date you either. I barely even remember your order. It’s not like I know anything about you. Actually, I vaguely even remember you. Are you that guy who comes in here every morning and mumbles out an order and then proceeds to ignore me for an hour and then leaves with a rude wave? The guy who stuffs pie samples and mac and cheese and then takes off?”

  Hell. He scraped a hand down the side of his face.

  She put her hands on her hips. “So what is your type exactly?”

  Her. She was his type. He took a step into her when he should have just turned around and left after reassuring her that the problem was with him, not her. Except he’d wanted her since the day he’d walked into this little chocolate shop and first laid eyes on her. His attraction to her had only grown, and now she was here asking him to be her date and asking him why he wasn’t attracted to her.

  “Never mind,” she said making a little shooing motion with her hand. Now he’d really pissed her off. “Just go. I’ve had enough of this one-sided conversation anyway.”