Champagne and Lemon Drops: A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance

by Jean Oram

  Beth sniffed and shook her head. "It's not Mandy. It's me. He wasn't ready." She buried her head in her hands and stared at her wet sneakers.

  "Men," Katie grumbled. "Such commitmentphobes. It's nothing more than cold feet." She hoisted Beth out of the chair. "You need to put on a push-up bra and stomp over there and let him know that he's going to lose a good thing if he keeps acting this way."

  Beth resisted Katie's physical directing. "I can't. If I push him on this... that'll be it. I know it. He's freaked out, Katie. Something's wrong." She met Katie's dark eyes. "I can't lose him."

  Katie studied Beth for a moment, then pulled her into her into a tight hug. She sighed heavily. "Well, whatever you decide, I'm with you, okay? You'll get through this. And we'll smarten him up if it's the last thing we do."

  Chapter 3

  Beth sat at her desk, back to her office door, and stared at the small square of blank wall across from her. Sticky notes of all colors crowded the square and she jabbed a fresh magazine photo of a mountain view into the spot. She crumpled up last week's view of their proposed honeymoon destination and sighed. Propping her chin in her hands she tuned out the hospital's PA system and stared at her pretend window view until her eyes lost focus and the room swam.

  Maybe it was just cold feet. Maybe Oz was freaked out by his dad giving him the business and all the responsibility that came with it. Maybe it was all just too much, too soon. Because really, Oz had never complained about the job, only his dad riding him hard about how to do things. Once he saw that he could run the firm the way he wanted it would all be cool again. She just had to be patient and let him see it.

  But it still hurt. A lot. She slapped a nearby photo of her and Oz onto its face, spilling a container of craft supplies over her desk. She stared at the mess, flicking a few googly eyes and making them bounce back to her when they hit the wall. She kept flicking until her finger grew sore. Katie had insisted Beth crash at her place until Oz "straightened up and popped his head out of his ass." Hopefully he'd be working late so she wouldn't have to face him when she went home to pack a bag.

  God, she needed a distraction. A good one. Or else a good strong drink. Maybe both.

  She rested her forehead on the desk's cool surface and lolled it back and forth. She lifted her head and let it drop back onto the desk with a loud thunk. It was impossible to think. Impossible to imagine a day in her life without Oz. Without him she had nothing but a ratty old car that depended on him to keep it running and a job where her patients were still irked at her for Oz being too busy to come dance with them during his Friday lunch breaks.

  Her weekends were going to be intolerable. Every weekend for the past two and a half years they'd done something together whether it was hiking up the local mountains, cozying up with popcorn and a movie, paddling around the local pond to see how close they could get to the ducks, or trying to outdo each other on their game system. Weekends were sacred reconnection time. Now she would see him on Sundays, for one hour, while they drank coffee at Benny's Big Burger and discussed whether Oz was ready to get back together or not.

  What if he was never ready? What if this break was... No. She couldn't think about it. Positive thoughts only.

  Someone rapped lightly at her office door and it creaked open, its latch failing to catch when she banged it shut minutes ago. She snapped upright, sending papers sliding in all directions as they dropped from her clammy forehead. She attempted to pull herself together while pushing her curls off her face, spinning her chair to face the visitor. The sudden head lift combined with a spin put her off balance and she went to lean on her armrest, but missed, sending her sprawling onto the floor. She landed hard beside the occupied Italian loafers just inside her doorway.

  "Whoa there." Dr. Leham placed a hand under Beth's arm and helped her stand.

  "Sorry! New chair." They both glanced at her worn chair. So obviously not new. She gave an uneasy chuckle. "Right. I meant um... that I switched the one I use in the common room with this one. And... hi."

  "Are you okay to stand?" he asked. She held her breath as his ice-blue eyes zipped over her, taking in every detail as he continued to hold her. He gave her a slight, questioning smile, and she closed her eyes against memories as a familiar scent drifted over her: the same cologne Oz wore on special occasions. Reminders of him were going to be everywhere, attacking her at irregular, unexpected intervals. Bastard. It was a guerilla attack to the heart over and over again. She bent over and placed her hands on her knees.

  Dammit. This break better not last longer than 24 hours or she was going to be an extremely pathetic basket case.

  Dr. Leham gently placed a hand on her back. "Maybe you should sit down?"

  She aimed her butt and plopped into her chair. She sucked in a deep breath only to be hit by his cologne again. "The hospital is supposed to be scent free." You big meany.

  He sat in the chair across from her. "Sorry, are you sensitive to my cologne?"

  Hello, understatement.

  She waved away his concerns. "I'm fine, really. Sorry." She stuck out her hand and introduced herself. Why wasn't he meeting her eyes? Usually when a man had this issue his gaze was stuck about a foot lower than her forehead.

  "Dr. Nash Leham," he said, giving her hand a brisk shake. He reached for her head with his left hand and she pulled back. What the hell was he doing? Quick as lightning he pulled something off her forehead. He studied the googly eye in his palm. Still serious, he carefully handed it to her. "I've heard of a third eye, but I didn't realize it was a googly eye. I thought it was mythical." He handed her the eye. "You're inner child was showing."

  Beth burst out laughing. Damn. How did this man take her from bouncing on the bottom to laughter within seconds? She pushed her chair back until it hit her desk. Normally she didn't mind the smallness of her office when she was chewing the fat with Katie during breaks, but this man was seriously making it feel crowded in a way that took her off guard.

  She adopted a mask of professionalism and waited for him to explain why he'd come by. As the hospital's recreational therapist she was often seen as the softie with the fluff job. Some of the city doctors who came out to Blueberry Springs as part of the Rural Doctors Program actually laughed when they discovered her job wasn't a volunteer position. Which was so not funny. Her job was as important as theirs. Well, maybe not quite exactly as important, but you couldn't just shove the elderly and infirm into the hospital's attached nursing home and ignore them. They needed a program director so their minds stayed sharp, their moods remained buoyant, and their health stayed stable.

  And she was that person. The diploma on her office wall proved it.

  She waited for Dr. Leham to speak and worked on emitting a cold, confident, business manner rather than the emotional defeat she felt. She could do this. No personal life. Just thoughts about work. This handsome doctor was a serious, top-notch go-getter who had a killer gut instinct and had been turning heads around town—for both professional and unprofessional reasons—since his arrival a few weeks ago.

  City meat. That's what the nurses called him. And for the first time, meeting him up close instead of just glimpses of him hurrying off to see patients, she could see the appeal. While the opposite of Oz, Dr. Leham was still handsome with his blue eyes, slim build, and perfect hair. But he was more like a wiry, blond Bradley Cooper with those sharp, light-colored eyes whereas Oz was like a tall Hugh Jackman. Both good looking, but totally different.

  And Dr. Leham wasn't Oz. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. Son of a bitch. There he was, sneaking into her thoughts again.

  "Uh, is this a good time?" Dr. Leham asked, furrowing his brow. He tucked his clipboard to his chest, one hand at the ready to push himself out of the chair.

  She cleared her throat and smiled. She could do this and not cry. "It's fine." She rubbed her fingertips over the bare spot on her ring finger. The ring's absence stung like a burn.

  "I see," he said, his eyes moving from
her hands. "Tough day?"

  She let out a brave snort, her eyes immediately filling with unshed tears. She turned away to dab at her eyes and a tissue popped up in her periphery. His gesture opened her floodgates and she rolled her eyes at herself. So much for holding it together and impressing him with her savvy business manner. Now she'd definitely be marked as the softie with the cush job. At least he was only there on a short-term contract with the program and would be bound for the city as soon as his commitment was fulfilled.

  The more the tears fell, the more humiliated and embarrassed she felt which, in turn, made more tears join the chorus. She blew her nose and another tissue appeared to her left. She snatched it from the air.

  "Do you want me to come back later?"

  She shook her head. Doctors never came by to talk to her, so if he'd been paging her and had come all the way to the continuing care wing, it must be important. She took several long, slow breaths and thought about how strong her sister had been as a teen. If Cynthia could persevere, so could she. She would channel those sister genes and be strong. One last deep breath and she turned to see Dr. Leham watching her with so much concern that the tears almost returned full-force.

  "Breakups suck." Dr. Leham said softly.

  "It's just a break," Beth replied quickly.

  "Oh, well. That's not too bad then?" He quirked his brow and gave a half smile. "A reassessment of priorities."

  "We were engaged." She blinked back tears. Breaks were the promise ring of breakups. An IOU that meant one day, when the timing was right and Oz had his courage shored up about him, he might just go ahead and break up with her for real. A small wail escaped and her brave front disintegrated into tears. She buried her face in her hands, cheeks burning with humiliation.

  Dr. Leham patted her shoulder. She peered through the cracks between her fingers and saw another tissue being offered.

  "I'm sorry," he said.

  Her head popped up, tears slowing. "Why?"

  He blinked, caught. "Um. Well, because it sucks."

  Like he knew anything about broken hearts. She'd bet her Volvo a guy like Dr. Leham was always on the giving end. Because only crazy women would break up with a nice, handsome doctor. And there weren't that many women out there who were that kind of crazy.

  "It's like your world stops," he continued. "Days don't make sense. You can't figure out what everyone can be so happy about when you're so miserable."

  Holy crap. This man understood.

  "You know," he said, "when my ex-wife left me, I got into exercise."

  "You're divorced?" There must be more crazy women than she'd anticipated.

  Nash laughed at Beth's expression. "Yeah. I know. I'm kind of young to have been through all that already, but she wasn't prepared to deal with my work dedication and I wasn't prepared to change." He gave a small shrug.

  "I imagine," she said slowly, "being a doctor involves a lot of long hours and last minute changes to your personal plans."

  He smiled. "But it's a heart job." He tapped his chest. "It's good for the soul being able to help people."

  "Yeah." She got what a heart job was. Being a recreational therapist in continuing care was soothing. It gave her hope seeing that many people had good, long lives and bringing a little sunshine and meaning their way with glue and a couple of googly eyes was fulfilling—even though most people considered her nothing more than a glorified babysitter.

  Silence stretched between them as they took each other in, deciding which way to take the conversation.

  "Anyway," he began, "cardiovascular activity naturally releases endorphins and serotonin into the bloodstream which can elevate moods for prolonged periods of time. Plus," he gave her a wink, "it's a great way to get back at the ex—looking all buff."

  And buff he was. His slight build had that athletic strength to it, his shoulders broad although not nearly as much as Oz's.

  "So, Dr. Leham?"

  "Call me Nash," he said. "Please."

  "Okay... Nash." She liked the sound of that.

  "Can I call you Beth?"

  She gave him a look. "Of course. Everyone does." City boys were weird. She bet he was the kind of guy who asked his dates if he could kiss them goodnight instead of just going for it.

  He gave her an apologetic shrug. "I'm still figuring out Blueberry Springs. People are quite casual, even in the work environment." He leaned back and crossed his arms, his clipboard balanced on his lap.

  "Yeah, we're a bit more laid back than the city." Having spent two years in the nearest city, Dakota, getting her diploma, she understood how the man must feel. Those were two quirky years she never planned to repeat. If she had found it difficult moving to the impersonal city, she could only imagine how Nash must feel being thrust into a very personal and in-your-business town like Blueberry Springs. "Plus, there's no need for formalities, I'm just the rec therapist."

  "Nonsense. It's a very important part of our long-term care commitment plan. I've heard good things about your program and the variety you offer. That's why I sought you out, actually." He leaned forward, full of brisk professionalism as he handed her his clipboard, the spell of casualness broken. "Reggie Max is a new patient of mine entering continuing care. I'd like to share my treatment plan, his health history, as well as a possible recreational therapy plan that will benefit him both psychologically and physically. I've listed a few of the activities I feel would be most beneficial."

  Beth sat back, clipboard in hand. Just like that, the we're-at-work wall had come up. Not that he had been anything other than professional before, it was more that he'd returned to really, really professional. He was now very much Dr. Leham, not Nash.

  She kind of liked Nash.

  Dr. Leham continued, "He is a type 2 diabetic and has been since he was—"

  "In his forties. Yes, I know." It was only recreational therapy for crying out loud. Usually doctors let her run with it knowing their patients weren't going to get any wilder than a weekly dance session that no longer included Oz, chair yoga, tai chi, a few crafts, games, and sing-alongs. "My gran is looking forward to his arrival." Beth rubbed her eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted. "They've been dating for a few years."

  "Oh. I see. Well..." he began uncertainly.

  "I have a bit of a rec plan laid out for him already. He's partial to card games so I'm thinking I'll reinstate bridge on Thursdays."

  "Oh." He paused. "Am I out of line? In Dakota we always—"

  "No, no," she said quickly, "I would love some input." She hesitated. She'd never actually worked out a plan with doctors other than during her college practicum. Out here the doctors had always been like, Go for it, Beth. One less thing for me to worry about. It's just crafts.

  Nash leaned forward and began pointing out various aspects of his rec plans clipped to the board. She surreptitiously inhaled his cologne and wondered what it was that men really wanted. Was it normal for them to act like they wanted one thing and then whip around and say they didn't? And was this pause in their relationship merely a precursor of worse things to come?

  Realizing Nash was waiting for her to reply she flushed. "Um, sorry? I missed that."

  "I've noticed a genuine need for an outreach here."

  Beth frowned. How much had she missed while sucking in his scent?

  Nash continued, "I think the community and outlying areas need a recreational therapy program for outpatients. For example, people with developmental disabilities or physical issues. It could be part respite care and part therapy. I'm pretty good at finding grants for this type of thing and I could act as the attending physician for an outreach while I'm here."

  Beth closed her gaping yap. He thought she should head up a new program for outpatients? She gave his shoulder a shove and laughed. "Get out of here!" He had to be kidding, right?

  He looked slightly insulted as he straightened his white doctor's coat. "I've pulled the records for the patients under your care and the results speak for themselves. There is a genuine
need and I think you should full it."

  Beth struggled not to look stunned. "You researched me?"

  He cleared his throat. "Of course. So? What do you say?" He pulled a folded square of paper from his breast pocket and handed it to her. "These are the details. Training this weekend in Dakota."

  "Whoa. What?" She slowly unfolded the page, keeping her eyes on Nash.

  "There's professional development funding that will cover your expenses. I noticed you haven't used yours this year. It's Saturday and Sunday only so you don't have to worry about missing work and finding a replacement. I know how difficult that is out here in the boonies. Go, see what outreaches are about. No harm, no foul. And if you decide to go through with it, I'll be here to help."

  Beth stared blankly at the information sheet in front of her and blinked. When it came to stuff like this she wasn't about to kid herself that her independent, big-girl pants were from anywhere other than the junior's department. Who was she to believe she could make a program go from start to finish? And why was he all over this like it was a done deal?

  "Besides," said Nash, standing at the door, "you could probably use the distraction as well as something to dive into at the moment. Am I right?"

  She hesitated and a slow smile spread across her face. This would more than fill her lonely weekends. And it would show Oz that her life didn't stop just because he wanted his to. This could be the distraction she was looking for. "I'm in. Let's check it out."

  ***

  Beth paused in the doorway with the last box of the things she'd need for her time away from Oz. She felt beyond exhausted—more like a deflated balloon than a human. Oz looked just as defeated. She took a step toward him, bothered that the box she was holding kept them from hugging. She was missing the last hug she'd get for up to a month.

  "I wish you'd let me be the one to move out." Oz reached over and tucked a strand of her hair behind an ear. She gave him a hard look. They weren't having this conversation again.