Montana Actually (4 page)

Just as they reached the door of a squat, flat-roofed building, Floyd’s phone started ringing. He checked the screen and with an apologetic smile said, “I’m sorry. I have to take this but you go right on ahead. They’re expecting you.”

Josh took that to mean his staff, and he pushed open the door, stepping into a waiting room. Two framed and faded prints of the Rocky Mountains hung crookedly facing each other, and the rest of the wall space was taken up with health posters that urged people to quit smoking, lose weight and have their eyes checked. The reception desk had the usual raised counter, and he caught sight of a computer screen but there was no sign of a receptionist. He could, however, see a black hoodie slung over a chair. Kitty-corner to the reception desk was a large basket overflowing with toys, and in the center of the room a small stack of dog-eared magazines sat on a low table.

Matching green upright chairs—all evenly spaced—bordered three sides of the room, making it like most every other waiting room he’d ever seen. The chatter in the room faded as twenty sets of eyes swung straight to him, their expressions a mixture of interest and caution.

With no one available to formally introduce him, Josh took the situation into his own hands. After all, he was the physician they’d been waiting for, and he had experience addressing the media from his time in the ER having treated some of the more infamous gang members for gunshot wounds. Clapping his hands together as a sign that an announcement was about to be made, he said with appropriate gravitas, “Hello. I’m Doctor Stanton from Chicago’s Mercy Hospital and I’m in Bear Paw for—”

“Has Randall finally quit to fish?” an elderly lady asked in surprise.

Josh wasn’t used to being interrupted. He opened his mouth to reply but another woman got in first. “Lynn didn’t mention it when I met her at the grocery store the other day.”

The man next to her adjusted his glasses and gave Josh a long, hard stare. “Are you a real doctor or just one of those pretend ones they usually send us?”

“Physician’s assistant,” someone added in clarification. “He doesn’t look old enough to be a doctor.”

“Of course I’m a doctor,” Josh said incredulously, still trying to come to grips with the way the conversation was flying off on tangents. It was like being on a stage with a cast who’d gone off script. “I’m a qualified ER physician.”

“Oh, I used to like that George Clooney,” a woman who looked to be in her sixties said with a dreamy smile.

Now he was seriously in the twilight zone. “He’s an actor,” Josh said firmly, his voice sounding overly loud. “I’m board-certified. A real doctor.”

The room went silent and the geriatric inquisition stared at him unhappily. This wasn’t going quite like the ticker tape parade he’d imagined.

“I’m quite aware that Mr. Clooney’s an actor,” the woman said with a sniff. “He made a fine doctor.”

The inference was clear—Josh was coming a distant second to a Hollywood actor who’d starred in the role fifteen years ago. What the hell sort of a town had he come to?

“No one can live up to George, Doris,” said a new voice behind him.

He turned to see a young woman wearing baggy scrubs, smiling at him.

“That’s very true, Millie,” Doris replied. “I guess for now we’ll have to give Doctor Stanton the benefit of the doubt. Mind you, he’s got a look of a younger George with his height and curly hair.” Doris sounded slightly mollified.

“I’ll do my best,” Josh said, uncertain exactly how to proceed. Right now he’d take a patient with a gunshot wound or an off-his-face meth addict rather than face this group of critical seniors. He was used to being judged on his clinical skills, not his ability to look like an actor.

The woman who looked to be in her twenties stuck out her hand. “I’m Millie Switkowski, nurse practitioner, and I’m your go-to person here at the clinic. Welcome to Bear Paw, Doctor Stanton. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

He gripped her hand like it was a life preserver in a choppy sea. Finally, he’d met someone who seemed professional and competent. Hell, she was the first person he’d met in Bear Paw who seemed normal.

The memory of dancing green eyes, a sassy mouth and a sweet behind flooded him, and he immediately tried to shut it out. Katrina McCade wasn’t normal—she was difficult, bitter, bossy and annoying.
And as sexy as hell.

Someone coughed—a wet and hacking noise that was the insidious sound of heart failure. It immediately focused him. The town and its population might be as foreign to him as Kazakhstan, and he may not have gotten the welcome he’d anticipated, but this he knew. He swung round briskly. “Whoever owns that cough, I’ll see you first.”

K
atrina usually worked the breakfast shift at the Big Foot diner and then had the middle of the day to herself before pulling beers at Leroy’s for a couple of hours in the early evening. Today was different. She was working until midafternoon because Shannon Bauer, the owner of the diner and her boss, had a meeting at the middle school and she’d asked Katrina to cover.

At times, the diner unofficially doubled as the community center, and today a Mommy-and-Me group had taken over the couches Shannon had in the corner for casual coffee. Between the babies who were practicing walking around the coffee table and the ones asleep in their strollers, it was a bit of an obstacle course as Katrina delivered coffee and freshly baked muffins.

She’d always loved babies and had been more than happy to cuddle them and breathe in their sweet smell of milk. To her, that distinctive scent had always represented hope and joy, but just lately holding a baby filled her with regret. Truth be told, everything about her life at the moment filled her with varying levels of regret.

The bell over the door tinkled and a woman walked in pushing a stroller. She stopped and stared. “Oh my God. Katrina McCade? I thought you’d left town and were never coming back?”

Katrina’s stomach sank. Eight years ago when she’d left town in a blaze of
I’ve outgrown Bear Paw,
she’d said things to Chrissie Stapleton that she wasn’t proud of. She and Chrissie had been friends in high school but they’d shared different ambitions. Neither of them had understood the other’s position, and hurtful things had been aired.

Plastering a smile on her face with the intention of starting over, she said, “Hi, Chrissie. Mom told me the good news. Congratulations.”

Chrissie took a pointed look at Katrina’s left hand. “Back in Bear Paw and not even engaged?”

She hated the traitorous and totally irrational feelings of failure that threaded their way through her. Not that she’d ever made it a total life goal to get married and have babies, but then again, she hadn’t ruled it out, either.

She thought of Brent and forced the rising bile back down her throat. “Not everyone wants to get married, Chrissie.”

The beautician raised her perfectly waxed brows. “That’s true. I just didn’t think you were one of
those
people.”

“Coffee, Chrissie?” she said, straining to sound composed. “You take a seat with the other moms and I’ll bring it right over.”

As she made the coffee she reminded herself that she was not defined by a lack of a husband, partner or boyfriend. She was a modern, independent woman and she was in charge of her own destiny.

How’s that working for you living back at home with your folks?

Shut. Up.

She picked up the coffeepot and did a round of the diner for those patrons who’d bought the bottomless cup. The bell over the door rang again and she turned to greet the patron. “H—”

Her voice failed as a flash of heat raced through her, taunting her and reminding her exactly how much she missed having sex.

Josh strode quickly through the door, filling the diner with his height, his breadth and his restless energy.

Light gray eyes—eyes that no longer looked like a red trail map—met hers. A flare of surprise burned in them along with something that made her shiver in a very good way. As fast as it had glowed brightly, it faded away, leaving her wondering. In its place was the more familiar and slightly detached gaze.

She swallowed hard, determined to sound cool, calm and collected. “
Doctor
Stanton.”

“
Nurse
McCade.” He eyed the coffeepot in her hand suspiciously. “I hope you’re more in control of hot coffee than paint.”

The delicious lust-fest her body was rolling in cooled.
Good.
At least her common sense was finally exerting itself. “Only when you’re not in my way,” she said sweetly, skirting around him and taking her place safely behind the counter. She’d never been so glad to have a wide piece of laminate between her and another person.

She almost asked him how his first night in the house had gone, but the thought of Josh lying sprawled across a bed wearing nothing but boxers had her tongue glued to the roof of her mouth.

“What can I get you?” she finally managed to blurt, her question coming out a lot throatier than she’d intended.

“An espresso.”

“Straight up or American?”
Yes!
The barista was back in control doing coffee talk.

“Straight up. To go.” He tilted his head, studying her dispassionately like she was a painting on a wall. “You’re an RN but you’re making coffee?”

He wasn’t the first person to have asked that question in the same curious and bemused tone, but she was still smarting from his crack yesterday about her being bitter. She banged the portafilter hard against the disposal unit to dislodge the used grinds. “Making good coffee is an art form, and as I’m the only barista in town, you can either have bitter-free coffee or a bitter nurse. Take your pick.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” he said, his voice a low, teasing rumble. “Coffee every time.” He smiled widely, his face settling into what looked like oft-used lines and his eyes crinkled at the edges, softening his frequently stern look.

A tingle shot through her—one she’d been familiar with since she was fourteen.
Damn it, no. Don’t flirt with me!

“Good choice.”
She looked away, concentrating on tamping down the freshly ground beans and locking the handle onto the machine. Pressing the button to start the water, she then placed the espresso cup in position ready for the dark and tangy brew. She wished he’d ordered a latte or a cappuccino, because then she could have busied herself with frothing milk, but now she had nothing else to do but wait while the coffee brewed.

She could see him turning his wallet over and over in his hands. The man was never still. When she finally looked up, the flirting charm had gone, replaced with a serious look on his freshly shaved cheeks. In one way, she missed the dark stubble, which had given him a relaxed look, but on the other hand the neat and tidy urban professional thing he had going on made him easier to resist. The stubble had merely been a facade, because nothing about Dr. Josh Stanton was relaxed or laid-back.

“If I upset you yesterday, Katrina, I blame the paint.”

His ham-fisted attempt to say sorry both surprised and irked her. “That’s an interesting apology.”

He sighed. “Do you concede that we both said things we probably shouldn’t have?”

Put it this way: I’ve worked with enough.
Her own words echoed accusingly in her head, holding a degree of bite. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, he was right. She’d let her caustic feelings for Brent spill over to unfairly taint him. “I can see there’s a grain of truth in that.”

His eyes darkened, taking on the hue of smoke. “There you go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Hard.
An image of his naked chest, all solid muscle and power, took residence in her head, begging the question what else about his body was hard.
Her knees wobbled as her blood turned into a river of sweet, hot desire.
No. Bad idea. Don’t go there.

She blinked, trying to block all wayward thoughts. “I’m more than capable of admitting when I’m wrong.”

He tilted his head and a curl fell over his forehead, stealing for a moment the formidable doctor look he mostly had going on. “Really?”

He’s got you there.
She didn’t want to smile, but her mouth curved up anyway as she popped a traveler lid on his coffee. She met his all-too-knowing gaze. “Well, I’m as capable as you are.”

“So in other words, not that capable at all.” He grinned at her, the dimple in his chin deepening and lighting up his face. He handed her some notes and accepted the change. “Thanks for the discount.”

She shook her head. “I charged you the full price.”

“But that’s so cheap,” he said, sounding astonished.

“This is Bear Paw.”

He rolled his eyes.

“What?”

“That phrase is the default setting for everything around here. At least this time, it’s a good thing.”

She tried not to sigh. Sure, Bear Paw was small and at first glance it didn’t look like much, but it was a bit like Montana gold. You had to dig for it. “Never lived in a small town before, Josh?”

He shook his head. “Not unless you count Boston. I’ve been living in Chicago these last two years.”

“So why did you want to come live and work in Bear Paw?”

She hoped he’d say he wanted to improve access to health services for isolated communities or admit to a passion for working with Native Americans or—

“To reduce my student loans to a manageable level.”

And there it was.
Disappointment clanged through her. “The Hippocratic oath meets market forces?”

“Something like that.” His mouth flattened as he caught her disapproving gaze. “What do you want me to say? That I’m thrilled to be here? I have to tell you, after this morning at the clinic, I’m thinking the feeling might be mutual.”

She knew the town could be slow to warm, but she had the gut feeling that he probably hadn’t helped things along. “What were you expecting? A ticker tape parade?”

Josh felt the spotlight of Katrina’s far-too-perceptive green eyes on him and saw the moment she read him like a book.

Her hand flew to her mouth and then she laughed. “Oh my gosh. You really were.”

Her laughter made him feel even more isolated from the town, and a surge of self-righteous indignation swelled in him. “Well, hell, why not? I’ve given up a lot to come here.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Timing is everything, Josh.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? I should have come in winter?”

She shook her head, her expression sympathetic. “People have to get to know you.”

He threw his arms up in the air as bewilderment battered him. “What’s to know? I’m the doctor, they’re the patients. End of story.”

“This isn’t an ER in Chicago.”

“You think?”

She shot him a look that inferred he was utterly clueless.

He railed against it. He’d given up so much to come to Bear Paw and he didn’t need to be told how to suck eggs. He took a gulp from his coffee.
Unlike yesterday, when she’d been wearing a voluminous shirt that had hidden her curves, today she wore jeans and a watermelon-colored blouse, which was tucked in behind a leather belt. With her short stature, it made her breasts seem more voluptuous, and like muscle memory, his gaze automatically sought a glimpse of the generous cleavage he’d seen yesterday.

All he saw were green buttons the exact same color as her eyes. Taunting buttons that said, “We’re resting on warm, smooth skin that you can’t see.” An irrational tug of disappointment pulled at his gut and instantly wrestled with the fact that he didn’t want to be attracted to her in any way. Hell, he didn’t want to notice anything about her, so he focused on the fact that she annoyed him to the nth degree.

She and her sorry excuse of a house. “Instead of giving me gratuitous advice, you need to make your house habitable starting now.”

Her eyes flashed with annoyance. “I’m your landlord, Josh, not an employee you can order about. The house is more than habitable.”

Disbelief slugged him as his hand slapped the counter. “It’s got no internal doors.”

“You’re living alone so how is that a problem?”

She had the uncanny ability to make him feel like he was the one making an unreasonable request. Damn it, a house should have internal doors at least on the bathroom. “Of course it’s a problem,” he ground out, struggling to keep his voice calm. “What if someone’s visiting and I want to use the bathroom?”

A soft gasp left her mouth, and her eyes widened to huge pools of rainforest green. It took him straight back to yesterday, straight back to the small and steamy bathroom where she’d leaned in over him. He’d wanted to dive right into their depths and find the source of fire that glowed there.

She shook her head as if trying to shift something and the glow faded. “They’re already on order.”

His wayward mind, lost in the memory of heat and fathomless eyes, scrambled to find purchase. “What?”

Small lines creased across the bridge of her nose. “The doors. They’re on order and will be here in a few days.”

Her reasonable reply released the valve on his head of steam and he was left feeling like the rules had just changed on him. Again. “Right. Good. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m going back to work now.”

“Have a good day.”

He couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

—

BEAU
was in town to collect a spare part for the tractor, and normally he avoided the diner at this time of day, but Bonnie had texted him to pick up a cheesecake she’d ordered. Her request had surprised him because she always baked her own and surely she could have asked Katrina to bring it home, but Beau had learned long ago not to question the vagaries of his aunt, his female cousins or women in general. Life was easier that way.