by Pamela Toth
If Olivia had doubts about his impartiality, she didn’t bother to voice them. Instead, she leaned closer, wagging her finger in his face.
“Be careful,” she warned gently. “Our smart young resident has made no secret of the fact that she can’t wait to leave here when her residency is done. She’s heading back to civilization as she knows it.”
Olivia’s comment made his stomach lurch, even though Zoe’s plans were no surprise. “Then our town will lose a promising doctor.” He could hear the defensiveness in his voice. Was his attraction that transparent?
Olivia straightened off the edge of the counter. “Somehow I just can’t picture you treating gunshot wounds at some E.R. in downtown L.A., or sucking fat from the thighs of rich matrons in a tony Beverly Hills clinic.”
“Whoa,” he exclaimed, holding up his hands as he backed away. “Don’t pack my bags just yet. My roots are here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Chapter Four
When Zoe came back from talking to the patient with the ectopic pregnancy, she was relieved to see that Dr. Taylor had apparently disappeared. Ever since she had run into him at The Hitching Post, she couldn’t seem to keep herself from thinking about him despite the fact that they had nothing in common except for medicine. Their lives couldn’t be more different.
After a moment’s hesitation, Zoe knocked softly on the open door to Dr. Chester’s office. Its soft green walls were part of the pastel color palette of the entire maternity wing, which was separated from the rest of the hospital by a double set of doors for security purposes.
“Mrs. Martin wants to wait until her husband can be here with her to discuss her situation,” Zoe said when the director looked up from her desk. “He’s coming straight from work.”
“And you’re able to wait around until then?” the director asked.
Zoe knew the question was purely rhetorical. Flexible hours and interrupted nights were part of the job as an OB/GYN. “Of course.”
The other woman smiled and sat back in her chair. “You’re doing a good job, Doctor.” She steepled her fingers beneath her chin. “You should be proud of yourself.”
Her comment caught Zoe off guard. For a moment she merely stared. If she had been pressed to name someone she respected, Olivia Chester would head the list.
Zoe swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
Dr. Chester nodded. Perhaps she was leading up to something, a complaint from a patient or criticism by another staff member. Zoe suspected that a couple of the nurses didn’t care for her style. She lifted her chin, keeping her expression blank. “Is there anything else, Doctor?”
“Dr. Taylor seems pleased with your work in the E.R. as well.” Her dark eyes sparkled. “I see a bright future for you.”
Voices from behind Zoe caused her to look around. She saw Archie, an elderly hospital volunteer, coming out of a birthing suite at the other end of the hall. He pushed a new mother in a wheelchair. Tucked into the bend of her arm was an infant wrapped in a pink blanket and matching hat. Walking behind them was a man wearing black leather and a huge silly grin. He carried a bunch of pink and white balloons in one big hand and a bouquet of roses in the other.
Watching the little parade come down the corridor, happiness radiating from them like a Palm Springs tan, Zoe felt a pang of appreciation. The baby was a preemie that modern medicine had given a chance to thrive.
“There’s a happy little family,” the director observed quietly.
Zoe realized that she had come over to stand in the doorway. “I’m sorry,” Zoe exclaimed, stiffening. The last thing she wanted was for her boss to think she was easily distracted, unable to focus. Emotional.
“There is one more thing,” Dr. Chester said. Her smile deepened the creases bracketing her mouth and eyes. Beauty radiated from her, contradicting the current belief that a woman’s complexion must be as smooth as a baby’s butt for her to be considered attractive.
Zoe braced herself.
“If you haven’t eaten yet, why don’t you take your break now,” the director suggested with a glance at the wall clock. “Someone can page you when Mr. Martin arrives. I’m giving a presentation in Butte later, so I’ll be leaving in a little while.” She paused to make a notation on a form in front of her. “Dr. Codwell will be on call if you need him before the shift change.”
Zoe hoped that she didn’t. He smoked cigars and the odor, which she abhorred, always clung to him.
Dr. Chester went back to her desk, leaning down to open a file drawer, which let Zoe know she had been dismissed. As she headed downstairs to the cafeteria, she replayed Dr. Chester’s comments in her head.
You should be proud of yourself.
What Zoe had yet to figure out was how to make her parents proud of her, especially when both of them were far too busy with their own successful lives to notice anything she did.
She was on her way to the cafeteria when Barb, the E.R. resident she didn’t especially like, came rushing up and grabbed her arm.
“There’s been some kind of mining accident,” Barb exclaimed breathlessly. “They just paged me. Can you help? The E.R.’s shorthanded and the casualties are five minutes out.”
“How many?” Zoe asked, hurrying behind her.
Barb glanced over her shoulder without slowing down and nearly ran into a crash cart that was being moved from one department to another. “At least one critical and maybe two serious from what I heard.”
Resigned, Zoe abandoned her dinner plans. If she was lucky, she might have time to hit the vending machines before she was called back upstairs to see the Martins.
With a final flourish of his pen, Chris signed the release for Harlan Voss, the last of the three prospectors who had been brought in by ambulance an hour earlier. It was a real struggle for Chris to keep his feeling of disgust from his voice and expression, but he knew from experience that morons like Harlan got even more defensive in the face of criticism.
“I hope you learned a lesson from all this,” Chris told him.
Harlan sat in a wheelchair, waiting for his ride. His arm was in a sling and there was a dressing on his forehead to protect the fresh stitches. His eyes were blood-shot—whether from his belated tears of remorse or the booze that he and his buddies had consumed before their ill-fated treasure hunt, Chris neither knew nor cared. In the past few weeks, he had seen too many patients like Harlan and his buddies.
“Getting drunk and then deciding to climb a rock wall could very well have been a lethal combination for one or all of you.” Chris lectured him sternly. “In the future, do your partying at one of the saloons here in town and then call a cab. It’s a lot less risky.”
“Yeah, Doc, I hear you,” Harlan mumbled, his gaze sliding away like a lizard scrambling for cover. “Is Brad gonna be okay?”
“He’s lucky your cell phone worked out there,” Chris replied, “because that’s not always the case and the nights can still be brutally cold at this time of year.”
The man sitting in front of him blanched and then he swallowed hard. “Yeah, I hear you.”
“They’re running tests on your friend now, checking his brain activity. The results will take a while,” Chris continued.
Brad had lost his footing, taking the other two men down with him and sustaining a serious head injury when he landed at the base of the wall. Chris could still picture the fear carved onto the face of Brad’s wife when she’d rushed into the E.R. with their two children in tow.
“What about Drew?” the man persisted. “How’s his shoulder?”
“As far as I know, he’s still in surgery.” Chris felt a trickle of frustration. These injuries had been preventable. Even sober people had no idea what they were facing with the terrain, the climate and the wildlife.
“You’re the lucky one,” he went on mercilessly. “That gash I stitched up on your forehead is going to leave a real macho-looking scar. Your friends aren’t so lucky. At best, they’ll both have big hospital bills to pay. At worst…” He let
his shrug say the rest.
“Aw, God!” Harlan buried his face in his hands. “If they come out of this okay, I promise that I’ll never take another drink.”
Chris had heard it all before. Catching a glimpse of Zoe Hart as she walked by the main desk, he tossed Harlan’s paperwork into his lap. “You do that.”
“Hey!” Harlan exclaimed as Chris walked away. “What’s your problem?”
Chris didn’t bother with a reply. Instead he went after Zoe.
“Thanks for helping out down here,” he said when he caught up to her. “With Marty and a couple of the RNs out sick, we’re really shorthanded.”
Zoe returned his smile with a brief twitch of her lips. “No problem.”
“So, you off work now?” Chris persisted, feeling a little too much like a high school nerd hanging around the prom queen.
“I wish,” she replied, her expression rueful. “The couple I told you about is waiting for me upstairs.”
Like every doctor, Chris was well aware of the risks involved when a fertilized egg attached in a patient’s fallopian tube rather than the uterus. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.
She glanced up again, her tiny gold earrings winking in the light. “Me, too. Giving bad news is the worst part of this job.”
He hated letting her go, but then inspiration struck. “Have you had a chance to eat?”
Her expression turned wary as she fished a candy bar out of her pocket and held it up. “Three food groups—fat, nuts and sugar.”
“I don’t think a nutritionist would agree with your assessment,” he said, arching his brow.
As she shrugged, he surprised himself—and her, if the look on her face was any indication—by grabbing the candy bar from her unresisting fingers.
“You don’t want to settle for this,” he scolded. “You’ll need something more substantial.” He snapped his fingers as though he’d had a sudden brainstorm. “I’ve got paperwork to do. Why don’t you come by when you’re done with your appointment and we’ll grab a burger at the diner. You can tell me how it went.”
She mulled over his offer, clearly undecided.
Before she could answer, he waved the candy like bait. “If you say yes, I’ll split this with you for dessert.”
Zoe burst out laughing. “But it’s mine!” she exclaimed. “You stole it from me.”
Before she could attempt to grab it back, he tucked it into the pocket of his shirt and folded his arms across his chest. “Prove it,” he said, offering her his most engaging grin.
Eyes narrowed, Zoe shook her finger at him. “When it comes to chocolate, I don’t share,” she warned.
Pleased to see that he had slipped past her mask of reserve, he patted his pocket as he backed away. “Ah, but I do. Come by my office when you’re done.”
“Thank you anyway,” she said, looking smug as she pulled out another candy bar and displayed it well out of his reach. “I’m afraid you’ll have to eat alone.”
What a stupid remark she had made earlier. Zoe scolded herself silently as she came back down the stairs forty-five minutes later and headed for the exit. She doubted very much that a man as ruggedly appealing as Dr. Taylor—Chris—ever ate alone except by choice.
Absently she reached in her pocket as she crossed the lobby, wishing she hadn’t been so quick to refuse his invitation to go out for a burger. She probably should have stopped at the cafeteria, but the idea held no appeal. Since she hadn’t been to the grocery store lately, her dinner choices were either the candy bar she had taunted him with or drive-through fast food.
An older couple carrying a bouquet of pink flowers and a big stuffed dog entered through security at the hospital entrance. From their happy expressions, Zoe figured they were probably visiting a new grandchild.
“Good night,” called the guard as Zoe reached the door.
Before she could return his sentiment, his gaze continued on past hers and he straightened like a soldier coming to attention.
“Good night to you, too, Dr. Taylor,” the guard added.
Stepping into the cold night air, Zoe glanced back to see Chris following her out. He was dressed in a bulky jacket and a black Stetson.
“’Night, Rudy. Take care,” he told the guard.
The sight of Chris in the western hat made Zoe understand the fascination cowboys stirred in some women. For an instant the upper half of his face was shadowed by the wide brim, turning him into a masked desperado.
His altered appearance sent a shiver of reaction coursing through Zoe. She blinked, clutching the collar of her coat, and the image disappeared when he moved his head.
“Hungry?” he asked, accompanying her toward the employee lot. “Between us, we’ve got dessert covered, unless you’ve already eaten yours.”
She wondered whether he had been watching for her. The chance to talk shop with someone who shared a common interest instead of eating alone in her car on the way to her empty apartment was suddenly too appealing to turn down twice in one night.
“I’m starving,” she admitted as two staff members she didn’t know walked past without looking their way. “If the offer of a burger is still open, I accept with gratitude.”
The shadow from his hat failed to hide his grin. Was she making a mistake in not keeping her distance, or was she misinterpreting friendliness for flirtation on his part?
“I’m parked right over there.” He pointed to the same red truck she had seen next to his barn. Tonight it sat in one of the reserved spots at the front of the employee lot. “I’d planned on going by the co-op to buy feed, but they’re closed now. I’ll do it tomorrow. Do you want to ride together?”
“I’ll meet you at the diner, okay?” she said. “It’s not that far.”
Let him think she was too stuck-up for his truck, but she always liked keeping her options open. Driving herself gave her the choice of leaving whenever she wanted rather than depending on someone else for transportation. Besides, this wasn’t a date, it was just eating together.
“Sure thing.” Even though the parking lot was secure and well lit, he waited while she got into her car before walking to his truck. When they got to the diner, there were two empty parking spots out front, so she pulled into one and he took the other.
At the entrance, he removed his hat and held open the door for her. Even though the diner was crowded, the hostess, a gum-chewing blonde, greeted him by name and showed them to a booth right away.
“Thanks, Stella,” Chris said, setting his Stetson on the seat beside him.
“You betcha,” she replied with a brief glance at Zoe. “Mindy will be right over for your order.”
“Have you eaten here before?” he asked Zoe as he picked up his menu. “Their burgers are the best in town.”
“Vadivu and I came here once after working a late shift together,” she replied, scanning the list of burgers. She was starved, despite the nerves fluttering in her stomach. Perhaps she would splurge on fries instead of a salad with her sandwich.
The waitress, an older woman with a frizzy gray perm, wrote their order with a pencil from behind her ear. After she left, Chris sat back in his seat and fixed his gaze on Zoe.
“So how did your conference go?” he asked.
With a sigh, she moved the salt shaker to the other side of the napkin holder. “Okay, I guess.” She was still affected by the memory of the couple’s stricken faces. “I don’t know what else I could have said to make them feel better.”
His smile was sympathetic. “I know it’s hard to tell someone they don’t have a viable pregnancy. You just do the best you can.”
No wonder he was so popular at the hospital. His bedside manner must be fantastic.
Zoe appreciated the chance to talk to someone who understood. Isolation was the flip side of not having to share her living quarters, but sometimes she thought that having the company of a roommate might be nice, too.
“Mr. and Mrs. Martin were understandably shaken up,” she said, recalling the
tears the couple had shared, hands tightly linked, as she had explained the situation to them as gently as possible.
A wave of reaction threatened to choke her. Startled, she swallowed hard as she struggled to regain her composure, hoping that Chris didn’t notice her momentary lapse. Keeping control was so much easier when she blocked out the patients’ emotional reactions.
“Relating to your patients on a human level isn’t a bad thing,” he said quietly. “As long as it doesn’t get in the way of sound professional judgment, the ability to empathize with what they’re going through makes us all better doctors.”
“You told me before that I lack that ability,” she replied a little stiffly, trying not to recall the look of devastation on Mrs. Martin’s round face.
Chris appeared startled. “I wouldn’t have worded it quite that harshly.”
“You probably have no idea what you said,” she blurted.
Luckily the people around them appeared too engrossed in their own conversations to notice, but Chris surprised her by slapping his palms on the table between them and leaning forward.
“My comment, Dr. Hart, was that you’re brilliant as well as gorgeous.”
Zoe spoke without thinking just as the waitress brought their orders. “You never said ‘gorgeous.’”
What was wrong with her that she kept making comments without thinking first? The man facing her seemed to have a talent for disrupting her brain function like a lead shield blocking an X-ray.
“That was an omission I won’t make again,” he replied.
“Anything else?” the waitress asked after she’d plunked down the red plastic baskets and fished a bottle of ketchup from the deep pocket of her apron.
“No, thanks.” Chris’s attention didn’t shift away from Zoe’s face. “You?”
“No, thanks.” The aroma wafting up from Zoe’s burger made her light-headed. Perhaps it was merely hunger that scrambled her thinking, not the handsome male seated across from her.
Mindy laid their bills on the table and departed silently as both of them dug into their food. While Zoe nibbled on a few of the crisp hand-cut fries, Chris demolished nearly half of his burger. He took a long drink of the root beer and then he squeezed a pool of ketchup next to his fries.