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Doctors in the Wedding

Page 7

by Gina Wilkins


  BiBi looked relieved. “Thanks. I mean, I’d hate for us to get into another uncomfortable situation like that one with Steve Gleason.”

  Madison couldn’t believe her friend had actually brought up that old falling-out. Honestly, it had been almost ten years since a college boy BiBi had a serious crush on had fallen for Madison instead. Madison hadn’t thought she’d done anything to encourage him, but BiBi had insisted that Madison’s warm, friendly manner toward Steve had been flirting. BiBi had refused to accept Madison’s argument that she treated everyone pretty much the same way; and even if she did, BiBi had added, she shouldn’t have been so nice to Steve, who’d taken her outgoingness as encouragement.

  It had gotten so bad that BiBi and Madison couldn’t even be in the same room with Steve, who’d inconveniently fallen all over Madison every time he saw her, to BiBi’s dismay. Madison had actually had to drop a class they were all in rather than risk losing her friendship with BiBi, and had been forced to rebuff Steve’s overtures somewhat more brusquely than she would have liked just to get him to stay away from her. Eventually her relationship with BiBi had mended, and there had been other boyfriends, other youthful squabbles from which they had also recovered. They’d been kids, barely nineteen, and Madison had thought the incident was long behind them, but apparently BiBi had never entirely forgotten. Or forgiven?

  “Let’s just leave that in the past, shall we?” she asked somewhat stiffly. “I promise I won’t do anything to ruin your wedding weekend, BiBi. Now, do you want a cookie or not?”

  Grimacing in what might have been a slightly apologetic manner, BiBi spoke quickly. “Yes, sure. Thanks.”

  Madison made a point not to even glance in Jason’s direction when she walked to the food table for the desserts. What was it about a wedding, she wondered in exasperation, that could turn the most intelligent, levelheaded people into players in a soap opera?

  Back at the arena area, several activities were planned for the remainder of the afternoon. Groups assembled on the grounds for horseshoes, archery and roping lessons. For later amusement, a mechanical bull sat within a rope ring, surrounded by padded flooring to cushion the inevitable tumbles. Inside the arena, barrels and poles were being lined up for timed events prior to the dinner campfire. Once again, Madison was impressed with the ranch’s efficiency in entertaining the diverse group of guests. There really did seem to be something for everyone, even those who’d initially balked at the idea of a day on a dude ranch.

  Madison joined several women lining up for archery lessons, which sounded like fun. BiBi and Corinna were among the group. Madison wasn’t sure what Jason was doing; she was making such an effort not to look at him that she’d lost track of him. She suspected he was participating in one of the noisy horseshoes tournaments.

  Allen hurried to stand behind Madison when she lifted the bow to her shoulder after a rudimentary demonstration. “Want me to help you aim that, Maddie?”

  He seemed eager to stand behind her with his arms around her to support the bow. She wasn’t sure whether it was because he was especially attracted to her or just liked the idea of being the gallant male, but either way, she didn’t want his assistance. She was quite capable of pulling the string back herself. Nor had she ever invited him to call her Maddie, she added silently. Berating herself for being grumpy—which she couldn’t help but blame, just a little, on BiBi—she made an effort to respond politely. “Thank you, but I’d like to try it on my own.”

  Despite her attempt to be gracious, it was obvious that he wasn’t pleased she’d declined his most recent offer of assistance. “Yeah, sure. No problem. I’ll just go help Hannah.”

  “Yes, you should do that.” Maybe Hannah would be more appreciative.

  “Bet you’d have let D’Alessandro help,” she heard Allen grumble as he moved away.

  Madison grimaced, hoping neither BiBi nor Corinna had overheard his disgruntled remark, though she suspected that Corinna had caught the gist of it. She blew a short breath out her nose as she took her stance to raise her bow toward the hay-bale target several yards ahead of her. More junior high drama. Great.

  If she ever married, she promised herself, letting the arrow fly, she was going to elope.

  The mechanical bull was unleashed after the games. A trained operator sat at the controls, overseeing the speed and spin direction of the automated ride. The operator took it easy on the true novices, though he was quick to toss them once they started to assert a bit of confidence in maintaining their seat on the twisting, bucking “bull.” Wearing helmets for safety, the riders landed on the padded flooring surrounding the device, wincing in chagrin, then standing to take a bow for the laughing, applauding onlookers sitting on folding bleachers set around the bull ring.

  Madison was talked into trying it. Self-consciously avoiding looking at anyone in particular among the audience, she settled onto the back of the bull-shaped machine, sliding her right hand beneath the neck rope as she was instructed by Mickey, who helped her mount. Her left arm was to be used for balance, he informed her.

  “Ready?”

  She drew a deep breath, letting the cheers and encouragement from the other guests wash over her. “Ready as I’m going to be.”

  The operator was gentle with her at first. It wasn’t easy to hold on, but she thought she was getting the hang of it—until a clever twist and buck sent her flying through the air before she’d even realized she’d left the machine. She landed in an ignominious heap, breathless but uninjured. She couldn’t stop laughing as she rose to take the obligatory bow. The spectators clapped and hooted in good-natured teasing.

  A few of the men and a couple of the women had obviously ridden bulls, either real or mechanical, before. They were given the full treatment by the grinning operator, trying to hang on for the eight-second count that would be required of a rodeo bull rider. Somewhat to Madison’s surprise, Corinna was among that group.

  “She’s ridden bulls?” she asked BiBi disbelievingly when Corinna walked into the ring as one of the experienced riders.

  “Mechanical only,” BiBi replied. “She went through a phase in college where she and some of her friends hit the bars every weekend to ride the bulls and shoot pool. She actually made some money betting beer-soaked frat boys she could hang on to the bulls longer than they could. Dad would have locked her in her room if he’d ever found out about it,” she added with a laugh. “As it was, he had to threaten to stop paying her tuition if she didn’t buckle down and study more and party less.”

  Madison remembered BiBi talking about her younger sister’s penchant for parties, but this was the first she’d heard of the bull riding. She wondered if perhaps Corinna had also kept that pastime secret from her older sister back then. It was amazing Corinna had managed to graduate with grades high enough to get her into pharmacy school if she’d really been as lax with her studies as BiBi implied. BiBi had always said her younger sister was brilliant, if a little flaky.

  Madison wondered if her own older siblings said the same about her. Maybe she and Corinna had a bit more in common than she’d realized. Madison had never ridden mechanical bulls for cash, but she’d pulled a few crazy youthful stunts in college, making her mother and siblings shake their heads in exasperation on more than one occasion.

  Corinna proved quickly that she hadn’t forgotten the skills she had learned making bets with the fraternity boys. She settled onto the bull with visible assurance, tossing her dark hair and posing in a way that demonstrated she enjoyed the attention. Madison noticed Brandon McCafferty crowding close to the rope barrier. He seemed unable to look away from Corinna as the device began a slow, bobbing rotation and she swayed sensually atop it, her left arm seeming to float in the air beside her, her breasts straining against her blouse as she arched her back to maintain her position.

  Brandon’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his lea
n throat with a hard swallow Madison could see from several feet away. A few of the other men moved instinctively closer for a better vantage point, to the indulgent exasperation of a few wives and girlfriends.

  Madison couldn’t resist turning her head just slightly to locate Jason. She wondered if he was as mesmerized as the other single—and not-so-single—male onlookers. She spotted him sitting on a bench to her right.

  He wasn’t looking at Corinna. He was looking straight back at her.

  Chapter Five

  When their eyes met, Jason touched his hat, his lips quirking into a slight smile. Madison wondered if every time she looked at him during the remainder of the weekend, her gaze would be drawn to his very nice mouth. If every time she saw his lips, she would immediately be inundated with memories of how they had felt pressed to hers.

  That’s what she got for being reckless, she chided herself as she looked quickly away. Weren’t her siblings always warning her that her impulsiveness would get her in trouble someday? She doubted that Meagan would have kissed a stranger in a moonlit garden, leading to all sorts of awkwardness the following day.

  Madison had always been the slightly different one in her family. Both her siblings had become surgeons; she’d chosen psychiatry, a much different type of practice. She always teasingly said it was because psychiatry required less time and effort than surgery, which everyone knew was a grueling career. The truth was, of course, that psychiatry had its own demands and challenges that simply appealed to her nature more than surgery. She’d actually considered forgoing medical school altogether and going to graduate school for psychology, a completely different path than her sister and brother, but had decided rather at the last hour to accept the offer from the state medical school. She still wasn’t quite sure whether she’d done so because she truly wanted the medical training or because she had allowed herself to be so influenced by Meagan and Mitch and their mother, who had all urged her to pursue the medical degree.

  Now she was the only one in the family still single, still spending many of her weekends at parties with friends, still living in a rented apartment with odds and ends of furniture, still uncertain of her career future when they’d each had their own career paths mapped out almost from the day they’d entered primary school.

  She wondered if Jason would agree with her siblings. Mr. Responsibility, BiBi had called him. Settled and sedate, she had implied. None of which sounded like what Madison was looking for—if she had been looking, of course. She was probably no more his ideal match, if he were in the market for a mate. A weekend fling would have been all they’d have had together, had other circumstances not made that so problematic.

  She’d have happily settled for that fling, she thought with a faintly wistful sigh. Her brother’s and sister’s certain disapproval notwithstanding, it wasn’t every day a girl had the chance to have her teeth rattled by a charming, handsome stranger. Madison hated to have to pass up such a tempting opportunity.

  A burst of cheers brought her attention back to the bull ring where Corinna had just landed gracefully on the mat after finally being tossed from the device by the grinning operator. She’d lasted six and a half seconds into the rodeo-level ride, longer than anyone yet. Madison saw her glance in Jason’s direction as she took her sweeping bow.

  Madison’s teeth would remain unrattled this weekend. Nor would she spend the next two days pining over Jason like Corinna. And she wouldn’t use Allen to avoid him, the way she suspected Corinna was using hapless Brandon. Madison was perfectly capable of having a great time without a man by her side, as she’d been doing for most of her twenty-eight years. She could certainly do so for two more days.

  Pole bending and barrel racing followed the mechanical bull riding. For those not inclined to ride in the events or watch from the arena bleachers, Gayla was giving rudimentary roping lessons. More archery lessons were also available or the guests could make a beaded bookmark or keychain in a Western crafts session. Something for everyone, indeed, Jason thought drily, joining the small group getting ready to start the pole bending timed runs.

  He would ride Pablo in the event, which consisted of completing a cloverleaf pattern around three poles without knocking them down. The competitor who finished in the fastest time would be named the winner. He hadn’t competed in many riding events, but his cousins had sometimes organized this type of race at his uncle’s ranch just for fun. He supposed he could hold his own among this group.

  An hour later, he held a second-place trophy, a gaudy, oversized, gold-toned plastic figure of a mounted cowboy on a rather oddly shaped horse on a faux-marble stand. He studied it with a lifted eyebrow, rather relieved he hadn’t won first place, since that trophy was slightly larger. Mike Campbell, one of the other groomsmen, had taken that prize by less than half a second faster than Jason’s time. Catching Jason’s eye over the top of the big trophy, Mike smiled ruefully.

  Jason spoke in a wry drawl to the victor. “Congratulations on your win.”

  Mike chuckled. “Yeah. Uh, same to you. Going to display that in your medical offices?”

  “I will if you’ll put that one in your law office,” Jason retorted without hesitation.

  Laughing, Mike shook his head. “I think I’ll let my older son have this one. He’s five. It’ll thrill him to have a real cowboy trophy—the closest he’s going to get from me.”

  “It doesn’t seem fair to deprive your younger boy of a trophy,” Jason replied immediately. “I think you should let him have this one, just so he won’t feel left out.”

  Mike chuckled again. “I know what you’re doing. But I’ll take it off your hands, anyway. You’re right, Nicholas would probably love to have a trophy like his big brother.”

  Jason promptly handed over the heavy plastic prize. Balancing one in each arm, Mike carried them off to share with his wife to take to their boys later.

  “That was very generous of you.”

  Hearing Madison’s voice, he turned his head quickly. He was somewhat disappointed to find her standing next to BiBi, giving him that same rather distant smile she used whenever anyone else was nearby.

  “He thought his boys would get a kick out of the trophies,” he said, choosing his words carefully so as not to offend BiBi by implying that he didn’t appreciate the award. “They can use them to decorate their rooms.”

  BiBi didn’t seem miffed by his gesture. “I’m sure they will love them. Congratulations on second place. I watched your ride. You were very good.”

  “Thanks. I nearly knocked over one of the poles. Uncle Jared would have given me a hard time about not sitting the saddle more firmly so I could guide Pablo with my legs.”

  BiBi smiled. “I met your uncle Jared a couple of times. I bet he was a tough teacher.”

  “A great one, though.” Like most of the members of his mother’s family, Jason pretty much idolized the oldest Walker brother, a tough-talking, tenderhearted rancher who’d spent the past twenty-odd years taking in at-risk boys and raising them with his generous, nurturing wife, Cassie. He was a hard taskmaster, but most of the boys left the ranch wanting to be just like him.

  “Did you see Corinna take first place in the barrel races?” BiBi asked a bit too offhandedly. “She had a great ride. She was sure Toni Blanchard would win because Toni used to compete in junior rodeo, but I guess Toni had an off day, or Corinna had a really good one.”

  “I saw her,” Jason agreed lightly. “I guess she didn’t forget everything she learned in all those riding lessons during summer vacations.”

  BiBi nodded, as though expressing her approval that he’d remembered those lessons. “Jason’s family and ours have known each other all our lives,” she said for Madison’s benefit. “We all have so many shared memories, don’t we, Jason?”

  Jason shot a quick glance at Madison, seeing a flicker of exas
peration cross her face before she schooled her expression.

  He’d been an idiot, he realized abruptly. He’d been unable to understand why Madison’s behavior toward him had changed so suddenly. Now, seeing her with BiBi, it was starting to make sense.

  “Yes,” he said, trying to keep his tone equable. “I think of you and Corinna almost like more cousins among the big D’Alessandro clan.”

  “Oh. Well.” BiBi stumbled a little, almost humorous in her realization that her comments hadn’t accomplished quite what she’d had in mind. “We aren’t—”

  Jason’s phone buzzed from the holder on his belt. He reached for it and checked the ID screen. “That’s my office. I should probably take it. Excuse me, ladies.”

  He turned away, telling himself he and Madison could talk later. In private, he hoped.

  Dinner was served on round tables covered with red-and-white gingham tablecloths and set in a circle around a blazing bonfire. While the guests indulged in barbecue and “fixin’s” or vegetarian entrees and salads, they were serenaded by a more than decent cowboy band. Several of the hands who’d helped out during the day turned out to be musicians, as well. Madison was delighted to see Mickey sawing a bow across a battered fiddle. She knew he wouldn’t call it a violin.

  She sat at a table with the Polanskis and Hannah Thatcher, leaving two empty chairs on the other side of the table from Madison. Allen Burleson slid into the seat next to Hannah, flirting with her in a way that soon had her blushing and giggling. Seated between Lila and Hannah, Madison was glad Allen’s attentions had moved away from herself. Hannah seemed to enjoy the attention, and if it bothered her that he’d flirted with Madison first, she didn’t let it show.

  Madison was chatting with Lila about the day’s events when she heard Jason’s voice. “Is this seat taken?” he asked, addressing the group as a whole when he nodded toward the empty chair between Allen and Tommy.

 

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