by Meg Maxwell
Jake came back into the living room with a tray. Chocolate melted in a little fondue pot. Strawberries. And a bottle of apple cider with two wineglasses. “Shall we continue this engagement celebration upstairs in private?”
“What about him?” Emma said, gesturing at Redford, who sat staring at them.
“Just us,” Jake said. “Sorry, Redford.”
Emma laughed and walked beside her husband-to-be up the stairs, a brand-new family formed.
Epilogue
On a breathtaking June afternoon, with powdery white clouds in the brilliant blue sky, Jake stood at the altar under the linen canopy that the cowboys had made and which Fern, Stella, Michelle and Katie had woven through with white and pink roses.
The wedding march began and every head in every chair turned to watch the bride begin her walk down the aisle, her arm entwined with Reginald Hurley. The man looked very proud and happy. Jake’s legs almost buckled at the sight of Emma, in a long, white satiny dress, a simple filmy veil over her face, walking toward him. Emma had told him that the dress was her “something borrowed” from her cousin Georgia, who had worn it to walk down the aisle while very noticeably pregnant too.
In just a few months, Jake would be a father. He and this beautiful woman, who would in moments be his wife, would unite as a family and raise Baby Violet together. Lately, Jake had gone a little overboard in BabyCenter, buying little lavender-colored pajamas and soft blankets and teething toys. Everytime he came home with a bursting shopping bag, Emma would roll her eyes with a smile and ooh and ahh over the adorable items he’d bought. Emma had asked Jake what he thought about giving Violet the middle name of Smith, to honor Joshua Smith, and he thought that was a beautiful idea. Violet Smith Morrow, it was.
As he watched Emma step closer and closer to him, he could hardly believe how blessed he was.
Finally, she stood beside him. Her father lifted the veil and there was his stunning Emma, the woman he loved. When the minister pronounced them husband and wife and he kissed his bride, a surge of happiness shot through him.
The guests jumped up and clapped, CJ’s wolf whistles the loudest of them all. As waiters carrying trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres weaved through the crowd, Jake slow-danced with his brand-new wife, holding her close. Just a few feet away he saw CJ dipping his fiancée, Stella. Grizzle, still clean-shaven and wearing a “spiffy” blue suit, was twirling Michelle around. Hank and Fern were cheek to cheek. And Golden and Katie had their arms around each other’s necks, staring into each other’s eyes. It was anyone’s guess who the next couple to say “I do” would be.
Off in the distance, a glint by a tree caught Jake’s eyes. Someone, a man, was holding up a glass of champagne as if in toast. Was that... Colt Asher?
Jake swore it was. His twin brother stood in the shadows, clearly still undercover or needing to keep himself hidden.
Jake blinked and like that, Colt Asher was gone. But he’d come. He’d come to witness this day and that meant a lot to Jake. Soon enough they’d be able to talk.
“I love you, Emma Hurley Morrow,” Jake said, kissing his bride softly on the lips.
She looked into his eyes and kissed him. “I love you.”
“Hey,” he said, glancing just past her shoulder. “Is that your dad dancing with your great aunt Essie?”
Emma turned and gasped. “Wow. My dad has really changed. On the phone yesterday, I asked him to try and patch things up with Essie, that it was time for new beginnings. He gave me a humph, but said, ‘we’ll see,’ which is always a good sign. And now here they are, not only speaking, but dancing!”
“Looks like your work here really is done,” Jake said. “Me. Your dad. The crew.”
Jake watched Emma turn to look at each of the men whose heart she helped turn around. Her smile was so breathtaking that Jake’s heart clenched.
The five men of the Full Circle Ranch danced with their ladyloves, all graduates—with honors—of Emma’s charm school for cowboys.
* * * * *
Look for Colt Asher’s story in November 2017 as the HURLEY’S HOMESTYLE KITCHEN series continues!
Keep reading for an excerpt from HER KIND OF DOCTOR by Stella Bagwell.
Join Harlequin My Rewards today and earn a FREE ebook!
Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards
http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010003
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Special Edition story.
You know that romance is for life. Harlequin Special Edition stories show that every chapter in a relationship has its challenges and delights and that love can be renewed with each turn of the page.
Enjoy six new stories from Harlequin Special Edition every month!
Visit Harlequin.com to find your next great read.
Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Other ways to keep in touch:
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com
Join Harlequin My Rewards & Instantly earn a FREE ebook of your choice.
Earn points for every Harlequin print and ebook you buy, wherever & whenever you shop.
Turn your points into FREE BOOKS.
Don’t miss out. Reward the book lover in you!
Register Today & Earn a FREE BOOK*
*New members who join before December 31st, 2017 will receive 2000 points redeemable for eligible titles.
Click here to register
Or visit us online to register at
http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010001
Her Kind of Doctor
by Stella Bagwell
Chapter One
“Nurse Winters! There is no place in the ER for tears. If you can’t control your emotions then get your things and go home! I’ll not have my patients’ welfare put in jeopardy over your foolish display of histrionics!”
Dr. Luke Sherman’s imperious voice sliced through Paige, just as it had many times before. Over the past three years, she’d grown accustomed to his barked orders and cutting remarks, his sneers and hateful attitude, but this was the end, she decided.
Not caring if there was a murderous expression on her face, she blinked at the moisture in her eyes and whirled to confront him. And even though she wanted to scream at him, she kept her voice tightly controlled.
“For your information, Dr. Sherman, I’m not having histrionics or any other sort of breakdown! I am in perfect control of my faculties and my emotions!”
One of his sandy brows arched upward, implying he found it incredible that she was actually daring to confront him. Paige desperately wanted to step forward and slap the supercilious look off his handsome face.
“Like hell you are!” His caustic retort caused something inside her to snap, releasing the fury she’d been struggling to rein in.
“You would view shedding a tear as criminal,” she said angrily. “You’re not human!”
His jaw clamped into a tight vise. “Are you finished? Or do you have more to say?”
Trying to explain anything to this man would be futile, she decided. He wouldn’t understand that the mist in her eyes had nothing to do with being a nurse and everything to do with being a woman. Earlier in the day, her best friend had given birth to a beautiful daughter and a few minutes ago Paige had held the precious, tiny life in her arms. As she’d gazed down at the baby’s face an empty longing had washed over he
r, reminding her of everything she’d been missing and all that she’d lost. She couldn’t expect any man to understand the feelings that were still tugging at her emotions. Especially Dr. Luke Sherman.
Through clenched teeth, she said, “I have plenty more to say. You, Dr. Sherman, have to be the most pompous, self-absorbed bastard that’s ever called himself a doctor!”
His nostrils flared and a swathe of red color washed up his neck. No doubt she’d infuriated him and burned her bridges in the process, but she was beyond worrying about the consequences. She was a nurse. Not a doormat or whipping post.
“You have the right to think whatever you like about me,” he said, in a voice cool enough to freeze Lake Tahoe. “It’s my duty to make sure my staff is capable of administering undivided attention to my patients. And right now you’re definitely not capable! I’m telling you to leave the ER! And I don’t expect to see you again until you take care of your problem.”
Her problem? He was the problem! She wanted to scream the words at him. Instead, she turned on her heel and hurried out of the treatment area before any of her fellow nurses could intercept her angry march to the main desk.
Helen, the head nurse of the Tahoe General Hospital emergency unit in Carson City, Nevada, was standing behind the counter with a phone jammed to her ear. Her steel-gray hair was always waved back from her face just as her full lips were a permanent ruby red. The only nurse on staff who stuck to age-old tradition in hospital fashion, a stiff nurse’s cap was pinned to the crown of her head, while a white dress uniform was buttoned over her ample curves. To the staff of the ER, Helen was affectionately known as the Iron Lady and at this very moment Paige wished she had just a fraction of Helen’s tough constitution.
As Paige approached the desk, Helen hung up the phone and began scribbling something on a notepad. When she finally looked up, she tossed down her pencil and folded her arms across her breasts. “Okay, give it to me. What’s happened? You look like you could breathe fire!”
Paige sniffed and stuffed her trembling hands in the pockets on her scrub top so the matronly nurse couldn’t see them.
Struggling to keep her voice from cracking, she muttered, “If I could breathe fire right now, Dr. Sherman would be nothing more than a piece of charred flesh!”
The veteran nurse cocked her head to one side as she surveyed Paige’s red eyes and pale face. “That’s nothing new. What’s he done now? Don’t tell me you let him bring you to tears! I thought you were a better woman than that.”
Paige had believed she was a better woman, too. Before this morning, she’d always been strong enough to hang on to her self-control whenever she was on the receiving end of his wrathful tongue. But this time Dr. Sherman had finally pushed the right buttons and, unfortunately, she’d cracked.
“These tears have nothing to do with him,” Paige said curtly.
“Hmm. My mistake. I thought you said you just wanted to turn him into a grilled fillet.”
“That’s because—” She broke off and shook her head with frustration. “Oh, a few minutes ago while I was on my break I went upstairs to the maternity ward. To see Marcella’s new baby daughter. They’ve named her Daisy and trust me, it fits. She’s as pretty as a flower.”
Helen smiled. “I heard that Marcella had delivered a few hours ago. I’m so happy for her and Denver.”
Paige glanced around to make sure none of the nurses coming and going around the desk were lingering about to pick up their conversation. It was bad enough that Dr. Sherman had ordered her out of the ER, she didn’t want to give the gossip mill any more fodder.
“I’m terribly happy for Marcella, too. She’s wanted another baby for so long. And when I held little Daisy...well, I got a bit misty. So when I returned to the ER, Dr. Perfect spotted my teary eyes, instantly concluded I was unfit for duty and ordered me out. So I’m here to tell you I’m going home.”
Helen gave her a stern look, then turned her piercing blue eyes to the clock on a wall behind them. “There’s only two hours to go until your shift changes. Don’t worry about leaving. If we get real tight, I’ll go back and fill in for you.”
Worry? Paige had just called her superior a pompous bastard. She figured her days in the ER were over. Or at the very least, she wouldn’t be working the same shift as Luke Sherman.
“Uh, there’s a little more to it, Helen. I’m afraid I said some very nasty things to Dr. Sherman. This might be the last time you’ll be seeing me around here. In fact, I’m sure of it.”
Scowling, Helen promptly took Paige by the arm and led her over to a more secluded area of the nurses’ station.
“Paige, I don’t begin to know what’s going on between you and Dr. Sherman. And frankly, I couldn’t care less if you love him or hate him. But you’ve been a nurse in this ER for seven years. You’re one of the best we’ve ever had. I don’t want to lose you.”
To emphasize her words, the older nurse reached over and gave Paige’s hand a tight squeeze. Paige was grateful for her support, but she wasn’t at all sure that Helen could intervene on her behalf, or even if she wanted her to.
Leaning closer to Helen, Paige lowered her voice. “Even if Dr. Sherman doesn’t ask to have me kicked off the ER staff, I’m not sure I can continue to work with the man, Helen. He’s...impossible!”
To her surprise, Helen chuckled. “I thought all men were impossible.”
Before Paige could make any sort of retort, the telephone rang and Helen hurried off to answer it. Paige used the interruption to make a swift exit.
Five minutes later, after snatching her wallet and tote bag from her locker, she was out of the hospital, with Carson City fading in her rearview mirror as she drove east on Highway 50 toward Fallon.
The forty-minute drive to the farmhouse of her grandfather, Gideon McCrea, usually gave her plenty of time to unwind from work. Especially when she could watch the early morning sun crest over the mountains and spread a golden haze across the desert floor. However, this morning a bank of clouds blotted out the sunrise and her thoughts were far away from the rough, open landscape.
Darn it! After three long years of working under Dr. Luke Sherman, why had she let his nasty mouth get under her skin? He’d said just as bad or worse to her before and she’d always allowed the barbs to roll right off her back. But this time his words had stuck and sunk too deep to ignore.
It was just as well, she thought glumly. During the past few months the tension of working with the demanding doctor had grown to such a point she’d sometimes felt herself close to crumbling. Especially when she appeared to be the only nurse in the ER that caught the brunt of his wrath.
When she finally pulled her economy car to a stop in front of her grandfather’s farmhouse, the clouds had moved north and the morning sun was already painting pink and yellow fingers across the porch sheltering the front and one side of the structure. Just the sight of the old two-bedroom house, with its rusty tin roof and gray, graveled tar siding, comforted her. No matter what took place in her life, this place would always be her home.
She was pulling her tote from the backseat of the car when the bang of the screen door had her glancing around to see Gideon walking onto the porch. His tall, thin frame was clothed in faded overalls and an equally faded chambray shirt. A mug of coffee was in one hand and a piece of food, most likely bacon, was in the other. As he took a seat in a rusty motel chair, he tossed the food to the dog lying near the end of the porch.
As she approached the house, she called out, “Grandfather, how many times have I told you not to feed Samson table scraps? They’re not good for him.”
“They’ve been pretty good to me for the past seventy-five years,” he argued. “And don’t be thinking Samson is stupid. He knows a piece of crispy fried bacon tastes a darn sight better than a chunk of hard dog food. That stuff isn’t much more than a corn dodger with a few vit
amins thrown in.”
Paige wearily climbed the steps to the porch, then walked over and dropped a kiss on Gideon’s leathery cheek.
“Okay. Next time, we’ll buy canned dog food for Samson,” she told him.
As if on cue, the collie mix lifted his head and whined, which in turn made Gideon laugh. The interaction was enough to put a wan smile on Paige’s face.
“So did you leave any of that bacon for me?” she asked.
Gideon narrowed his faded blue eyes at her, then pulled a pocket watch from the bib of his overalls. “Am I mixed up this morning? Or have you come home early?”
He opened the watch and, after a careful check of the hands, snapped it closed.
“I’m early, Grandfather.”
“You’re usually an hour or two later. What happened? No sick folks coming in today?”
Paige could’ve told him there were plenty of ailing folks in the hospital. Including her. She was sick of Dr. Sherman’s endless demands and hateful attitude. She was fed up with looking at his face and wondering whether a nice guy had ever lived behind his handsomely carved features.
Sighing, Paige dropped her duffel and sank into the chair next to Gideon’s. “The ER was very busy. I, uh, had a little run-in with one of the doctors and decided it best I leave early.”
As he weighed her words, he passed a hand over waves of thick hair that had once been auburn but had grayed to a mixture of white and rust. At one time Gideon McCrea had been a young handsome man, working as a welder for the Virginia and Truckee Railroad. But once time had begun to catch up with him, he’d retired and contented himself with growing small crops of timothy and alfalfa to sell to the local ranchers. The profit he made wasn’t large, but that hardly mattered to him. He didn’t want much. Especially since his beloved wife, Callie, had died ten years ago.
“You going to quit being a nurse?” he asked.