Hot-Shot Doc Comes to Town

Shaking her head at thoughts like that, Shelby rubbed extra hard at a spot on the glass. It had been an easier day having Dr. Stile’s help but she couldn’t afford to get used to it. He wouldn’t be there very long. Regardless of what good help he’d turned out to be, he made her angrier than anyone she’d ever known. She’d have a talk with him tonight and set the ground rules. This was her and Jim’s clinic. She was in charge.

Shelby had stepped outside to wash the other side of the window by the time he’d reached the door. She glanced at him.

“Crusty old bird and a heart attack waiting to happen,” he said, running a hand across his chin dark with stubble.

Suddenly she noticed the shadowy circles under his eyes. He looked tired. “I know. I’ve talked to her until I’m blue in the face. But she just can’t bring herself to give up the carbs.”

Shelby sprayed the window and began making circles with the rag. From the reflection in the glass she could tell the sun was turning pink in the western sky above the rolling hills and lush foliage of summer. She had to hurry or she wouldn’t finish before she could no longer see.

“I’m bushed. I understand you have a place where I can stay,” Taylor said as he pulled the door open.

“Yeah, but I have to finish up here before we leave.”

“Don’t you have a cleaning service?”

“Sure I do. Sometimes Carly, my receptionist, if she doesn’t have a date. Which she almost always has.” She glanced at him. He stood with his hands in his pockets and his head slanted in disbelief.

“Surely you don’t do all the cleaning after seeing patients all day.”

“Dr. Stiles—”

“Taylor. After hours I believe we can call each other by our first names.”

Somehow it seemed petty not to agree. “Taylor, this is a state-supported clinic. And that may not last. Funding’s tight and I have to constantly prove need. I’d rather put every dollar available into patient care.”

Taylor looked through the glass at the room with the water-stained ceiling and mismatched chairs crowded against the wall. Shelby’s voice spoke with pride but all he saw was a sad, needy place that he couldn’t leave soon enough. It represented all that he had gladly left behind. He couldn’t get back to his sparkling state-of-the-art hospital too soon. With a resigned breath he said, “Where do you keep the cleaning supplies?” He might as well help if he planned to get some sleep any time soon.

“Why?”

“I thought I’d help.”

“I’ve got it.”

Really, she was such a control freak that she even had to do all the cleaning? “It’ll go twice as fast if I help.”

“You’re right. Stuff’s in the closet in my office.”

Taylor walked down the hall to the office and pulled the bucket full of cleaning materials out of the closet. The plastic pail was the same type his mother had carried when she’d cleaned people’s homes. She had worked six days a week and even that hadn’t always kept him and his two brothers in clothes or put food on the table. His drunken father …

“If you’ll give me that, I’ll do the restroom. I don’t want you to mess up those pretty shoes,” Shelby said.

“Oh, that’s already happened. Little Jack Purdy threw up on them hours ago.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Sorry.”

“All part of the job. I’ll sweep. Then can we get out of here.”

“Yeah, I’ll come in early and set up the rooms.”

Was there anything she didn’t do?

Thirty minutes later Shelby locked the door behind them and pulled the strap of her satchel over her slim shoulder. “Follow me.”

He backed out of the parking space and was waiting before she’d made it to the ancient black pick-up across the three-row parking lot. He watched as Shelby pulled herself up into the truck. She was a petite woman, but she had a strong backbone to make up for any weakness she might have in other areas. A pit bull had nothing on her.

The whine of Shelby’s starter refusing to co-operate and her hand hitting the steering-wheel told him he needed to offer her a lift. Taylor pulled in front of the truck. “Need a ride?”

She leaned out the open window. “Yeah, much as I hate to admit it.”

“Is that riding with me you hate or that the truck won’t start?”

“Both.” She gave him a dry smile and climbed out of the truck, hefted her bag over her shoulder and came around the car.

He’d had no idea what to expect when the judge had ordered him here. He would’ve never imagined in a million years he’d find someone so smart, stubborn and surprisingly fascinating hiding out in some tiny ‘burb in the middle of nowhere. Why was she here?

Taylor leaned across and unlatched the passenger door. Stretching farther, he pushed the door open. “Give me that.” He pointed to the bag. Shelby handed it to him. “What’ve you got in this?” He put it in the space behind them.

“Charts.” She slid into the low seat.

“You’re taking work home? You’ve already put in, what? A twelve-hour day and now you’re going to do paperwork. Don’t you have a life?”

“The clinic is my life.”

He gave her a long look. “I can see that.”

She narrowed her eyes and said, “By the way, tomorrow please park away from the door. Leave the closer spaces for my patients. Some, like Mrs. Ferguson, can’t walk very far.”

He put up a hand. “Okay. I’ve been adequately rebuked. Which way?”

“Out of the lot and then to the left on the main road. My house isn’t far.”

That figured. She wouldn’t live too far from her precious clinic. The only thing he’d ever been single-mindedly focused on had been getting the heck out of a town just like the one he was in now. Medicine had been the vehicle he’d used to achieve that goal. His lips twisted. Ironically, it had also been the vehicle that had brought him back.

“Turn to the left just past the white two-story house. My house is the third one on the right.”

He pulled into the tree-lined street with perfect houses and immaculate lawns. The neighbors were out in the coolness of the evening. Two couples stood talking to each other while kids played nearby. At another house a man mowed his grass.

“True suburbia,” Taylor murmured.

“Yes, it is and that’s why I bought on this street. I wanted to live where neighbors spoke to each other, helped each other. Where children could play and be safe.”

His stomach clinched. The scene she described was everything he’d ever dreamed of as a kid. Slowly releasing a breath, he pulled his car into the paved drive Shelby indicated. The house was a red-brick ranch style with a two-story detached wooden garage and stairs running along the outside.

“You’ll be staying there.” Shelby pointed at the garage when he turned off the car engine.

“I’m staying here?” If working in the makeshift clinic wasn’t bad enough, staying in this homey neighborhood might kill him. “With you?”

“You’re not staying with me. I rent this out. It just happens I don’t have a tenant right now.”

Things had just got more interesting.

She glanced over her shoulder to the neighbors watching from across the street, then turned to him and grinned. “You’ve already started the neighbors talking. We don’t often see cars like this in Benton.”

“I guess you don’t.” Taylor felt his lips thin. He didn’t like being talked about. He’d spent his youth being the topic of gossip, being made fun of. At least these people weren’t talking about him in relationship to the town drunk.

Her smile had disappeared by the time his gaze met hers. “You know, if you don’t want people to notice you then you might try not living so extravagantly.” She opened the door and climbed out, picking up her satchel.

How had she read him so well? Were his feelings that obvious? He’d spent years learning to hide them. How had this woman he known mere hours been able to see through him?

Taylor stepped out of the car and slammed the door, facing her. “Extravagantly?” His voice rose. “I’ll have you know I work hard for what I have. I can afford this car and I don’t have to justify it to you or anyone else.”

“Little touchy, aren’t you?” she replied with a noticeable effort to keep her voice down.

“Everything okay, Shelby?” a deep voice called.

Taylor glared at the man who had crossed the street to stand at the end of her drive. Small towns never changed. People were always in your business.

She walked a few steps toward the man and waved. “Everything’s fine, Mr. Marshall. I’m just showing Dr. Stiles where he’ll be staying while he’s in town.”

Taylor went to the trunk of the car, popped it and grabbed his suitcase.

“Okay,” Mr. Marshall said. “We’ll see you at the block party, won’t we?”

“Sure. Looking forward to it.”

“Bring the new doctor along if you wish. We’d like to meet him.”

Taylor certainly hoped that she wasn’t planning on him attending any party. The Arctic would become a beach before he’d attend any social function around here. He’d made himself into an arts and opera guy. Benton didn’t even have a movie theater, from what he could tell.

Shelby turned, her gray eyes flashing, her tone tight with control. “Don’t you ever raise your voice to me again where my neighbors can hear. They worry about me.”

She motioned towards the garage stairs and headed that way. “You’ll not come here and upset them or create fodder for talk at their dinner tables. For some reason I don’t understand, Uncle Gene thinks I’m a halfway house warden for bad-boy trauma doctors.” The last few words were said more to herself than to him.

So, Shelby didn’t like being the talk of the town any more than he did. Maybe they had more in common than he’d given her credit for.

CHAPTER TWO

SHELBY dropped her bag on the bottom step of the stairs that ran alongside the garage.

“Since you don’t want to be a topic of gossip any more than I do,” Taylor said calmly, “maybe you should just agree to disagree about my car.”

With great effort Shelby pushed down the temptation to say something. Having a public argument would certainly give her neighbors and friends a good tale to tell.

“Just what did you do to get on Uncle Gene’s bad side?”

“Uncle Gene?” he asked in a puzzled tone.

“Judge Gene Robbins. He’s my uncle,” she said as she started to climb the stairs.

“So that’s why I’m here.” The words were little more than a mumble, as if he was contemplating the meaning of life. After a moment he commented, “We’ve had a few legal dealings. Nothing special.”

Shelby stopped and looked down at him. What did he mean? Was he an ax murderer? No, her uncle wouldn’t send anyone to work with her who wasn’t a decent person.

Taylor’s look moved slowly up from where his focus had been, on her bottom. Heat filled her cheeks. It had been a long time since a man had noticed her and made his appreciation so obvious. She and Jim had been an item since childhood, leaving little room for another man to show interest. The men in Benton had never approached her in anything other than friendship since Jim had been gone. In truth, she’d not given them a chance. She couldn’t take the chance of losing someone she loved again.

Shelby hurried up the stairs. Taylor was here to help in the clinic and that was all. On the landing she opened the door to the apartment.

“You don’t lock up?”

Turning round, she found Taylor too close for comfort. Standing on the small landing that made her a step higher than he, Shelby was almost at eye level with him.

From there she could see the tiny laugh lines that radiated out from the corners of his eyes. Apparently he wasn’t always the hypercritical person his body language indicated he was. His eyes were brown with small flakes of gold.

The twist of the corner of his mouth brought her attention to his firm, full lips. She blinked.

“Doesn’t your husband tell you to lock the doors?” he asked.

“I’m a widow.”

“I’m sorry.” He sounded like he meant it.

“I am too.” She turned away from the sincerity in his eyes. The sadness that usually accompanied thoughts of Jim was suddenly not as sharp.

Shelby hadn’t missed the look of displeasure on Taylor’s face when he had entered the clinic or when he’d seen the working conditions. She’d also not missed the expression of disgust when he’d realized she drove an old truck. His knuckles had turned white on his steering-wheel when he’d pulled onto her street, as if he didn’t like her neighborhood. Did he think that living here was beneath him? Or was it that she rubbed him the wrong way?

“How does your family feel about you being away from home?” she asked.

“No family.” He made it sound like he liked it that way.

Entering the one-room apartment, Shelby moved to one side to prevent any physical contact. He made her feel nervous and she was never nervous around men. After dropping his bag on the floor, he looked around the place.

Shelby’s gaze followed his. A full bed with her grandmother’s hand-quilted blanket dominated the room. There was a small refrigerator-stove combo in one corner. A two-seater table with chairs sat in front of the double window that looked out onto the back of her house. A braided rug, sofa and chair finished off the living area. A bathroom took up the other corner. She was rather pleased with her decorating efforts. It made a cute place for one person to stay.

“I think you will be comfortable here,” she said with a smile full of pride.

He didn’t agree or disagree. Instead he picked up his bag, carried it to the bed and began unzipping it.

“Not up to your usual standards, I’m sure,” she mumbled.

Taylor pulled clothing out of his bag, his back to her. “You don’t know me well enough to know my standards. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get a much-needed shower and go to bed. I’ve been up almost twenty-four hours.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I had to handle an emergency last night. A boy had been hit by a car. I didn’t get out of the hospital until ten this morning and then I had to drive straight here or Uncle Gene would’ve been unhappy.”

So that’s why he’d been late. Why hadn’t she noticed he wasn’t just tired, he was exhausted? As a physician trained to observe the human condition she should’ve known. Had she completely missed it because of her strange reaction to his nearness?

Now she felt small and petty. Why hadn’t he said something? She could’ve given him directions here. The clinic had been running with just her for three years and she could’ve certainly made it through another afternoon. Instead, Taylor had gone to work, never giving the patients or her any indication he was drained. His perfect bedside manner had never faltered. For that, he’d earned her admiration.

Taylor began unbuttoning his dress shirt.

Shelby headed for the door but turned back when she reached it. “One more thing about the clinic …” Her gaze went to where his hands worked the buttons open.

“Yeah?”

His shirt parted, revealing a broad chest lightly covered with dark hair. Her gaze rose to meet his. One of his dark brows rose quizzically.

Heaven help her, she’d been caught staring. Shelby drew in a quick breath. “Uh, do you mind keeping your clothes on until I’m gone?”

“Actually, I do. Can’t whatever you have to say wait?”

Was she losing her mind? She didn’t stand around in half-naked strangers’ rooms. Holding her ground, she gave him her best piercing look. “No. I need to make a few things clear before tomorrow.”

“Go ahead. I guess I can’t stop you,” he said as he shrugged out of his shirt and let it drop to the floor.

“Although I appreciate your help today, it needs to be clear to the patients that I’m in charge. I make the decisions. I determine what the patients require. I will not have you changing routines I’ve worked hard to implement. Is that clear?”

“So, to make it short and sweet, you’re the boss.”

Put that way, he made her sound like a shrew. That didn’t sit well. “It’s just that—”

He put up a hand, halting her words. “I’ve got it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get some shut-eye.”

Departing, she carried the feeling she’d been the one reprimanded. “The clinic opens at eight sharp,” she said over her shoulder.

“I’ll be there.”

Taylor woke to threads of early morning sunshine through the window. He’d slept well, whether from exhaustion or because this simple room had offered him a good mattress he didn’t know.

Shelby had been right. He didn’t think much of the apartment but on second look it did have a rather homey feel. It was a great deal nicer than what he’d had growing up. To even have a bed to himself would’ve been considered high living.

He glanced at the electric clock on the bedside table. It said seven twenty-eight. The woman would have his hide if he didn’t turn up on time this morning. He couldn’t take a chance that she’d inform her Uncle Gene about his tardiness. More time he couldn’t do.

Ten minutes later, freshly shaven and dressed in khakis, a knit shirt and loafers, he opened the door and almost stepped in the tray sitting on the stoop. There he found a Thermos of coffee, toast and a boiled egg. He smiled. Maybe the caustic doctor was feeling a little guilty about how she’d treated him when he’d been late. Apparently she wasn’t all vinegar.

He checked the time. If he didn’t get a move on she might chew him out again. Grabbing the Thermos and egg, he closed the door behind him and hurried down the stairs. Knocking on the back door of her house, he received no response. She must’ve found a ride to work. If she wasn’t at the clinic when he got there, he’d hunt for her.

As Taylor walked across the parking lot towards the clinic, Shelby came out. “Coming in under the wire, aren’t you, Doctor?” Her voice was full of censure as she worked the key until the deadbolt was drawn into the door to open the office for the day.

“I said I’d be here, and I’m here. And good morning to you too, Doctor. What time did you show up?”

“I’ve been here an hour or so. It usually takes me that long to set up for the day.”

“I knocked to see if you needed a ride.”

“I walked. Bert said he’d have my truck fixed this afternoon.”

Taylor held the door for her to enter ahead of him. “You walked? I would’ve brought you if you’d woken me.”

“You were tired. Walking isn’t a problem. I do it pretty regularly. I’m safe enough and it’s good exercise.”

A couple of people who’d been waiting around outside came in behind them.

“Thanks for the breakfast.” He showed her the egg and Thermos.

“No problem. Those’ll have to wait, though. We’ve patients to see.”

Her no-nonsense statement went along with her functional attire of navy slacks and white V-neck T-shirt that showed a hint of cleavage. Despite her simple attire, it couldn’t hide the shapely curves of her body. Her waist was small enough that a man’s hands could easily slip around it.

She’d pulled her hair back but at the nape it was too short to capture. The only flash of color was a bright neon-pink stethoscope hanging around her neck. Taylor followed her to the desk, where a blonde teenage girl sat, drumming a pencil and chewing gum.

“Carly, this is Dr. Stiles. He’ll be helping us for the next couple of weeks,” Shelby said as she picked up the sign-in clipboard.

Taylor nodded to the girl.

She looked up. He watched her eyes widen. She shifted, then straightened in her chair. “Hey.” She flipped her long blonde hair behind her shoulder. He’d never thought of himself as vain, far from it, but he did know when a female appreciated his looks.

“Carly, do you think you could find Ms. Cooper’s file? And get rid of the gum.” Shelby turned to him, “I’ll see Ms. Cooper since this is a check-up.”

Carly didn’t move. He didn’t know why but he wished Shelby would have the same reaction to him that Carly did. Other than that one unguarded moment when he’d been unbuttoning his shirt, she’d acted as if she had no idea he was male. It intrigued and disappointed him. Simple admiration from Shelby would be hard earned.

“I’ll call Dr. Stiles’s patient for him,” Carly said as she dropped her gum into the trash can at her feet and gave him a toothy smile.

“Will I be using exam one?” he asked Shelby.

“That’ll be fine.”

Her words were said so tersely that he glanced at her. What was her problem now?

For the rest of the morning he had little time to ponder what might have upset Shelby. The waiting room stayed full no matter how efficiently he tended to the patients or how simple the cases were.

Where Carly’s reaction to him had been an ego booster earlier in the day, it had become borderline comical by midday. He noticed that she saw to all his patients, showing them to their exam room, asking him if he had everything he needed or if she could get him something to drink. All of it was nice but it was in direct contrast to how Carly treated Shelby. Carly offered her no assistance.

When Taylor asked Carly about that she shrugged in a typical teenage dramatic fashion and said, “Oh, Dr. Wayne likes to do everything herself.”

Of course she does.

By lunchtime Taylor couldn’t help but admit that he’d put in a pretty hard morning. The little clinic was plenty busy. The mundane work sucked him back to another time. Each patient reminded him too much of the people he’d known growing up.

There was the kid with the cough that never disappeared, like Mike Walker’s. He’d been in Taylor’s third-grade class one year but wasn’t there the next. Or others, such as old man Parsons, who’d had no teeth and had chewed tobacco until his gums were diseased. Or Mrs. Roberts, who might’ve been pretty at fifty, but with too many children and a sorry husband had looked like she was seventy.

Taylor would do his time and get back to where he belonged, where memories weren’t darts being thrown at him constantly.

Around noon the egg he’d eaten in bites between patients was gone. He was glad to see that the crowd in the waiting room had dwindled. Maybe they would let him and Shelby have some lunch before every seat was filled again.

“Where do you get a good burger in this town?” Taylor asked as Shelby approached the front desk.

“There’s a burger place on Main,” Carly offered.

“We can all go. I’ll buy,” he offered.

Shelby gave a negative shake of her head. “I have paperwork to do. And someone may come in.” She slipped a chart into the file cabinet.

Really? The woman couldn’t even stop long enough to go out for a quick bite of lunch?

“I want to go. Can we ride in that cool car of yours?”

Taylor wasn’t sure he wanted to be seen riding around town with the very young girl beside him but there was no choice because he had no idea where the burger joint was and he was starving. “Can we bring you back something?” Taylor asked Shelby.

“No, I have a pack of crackers in my desk.”

“Okay.” He shrugged. “But I bet a burger would be a lot better.” He looked at Carly. “Come on. Show me the way. I guess I should learn my way around town.”

Shelby pulled out the drawer of her desk and reached for the package of crackers but didn’t pick them up. She would’ve been satisfied with them if Taylor hadn’t mentioned a burger.

She popped the top of her diet drink and stared off into space. The sounds of Carly’s high-pitched giggle and Taylor’s deep rumble came from the front. It grew louder as they walked in her direction.

Taylor stopped and let Carly enter Shelby’s office before him. “We decided to go through the drive-in and pick up something. We brought you a burger. Before you argue, I owe you for breakfast and the place to stay.”

Carly’s eyes widened with surprise. “You’re staying at Doc Wayne’s?”

“Yeah.” Taylor pulled one of the spare chairs closer to the desk with his foot.

Carly looked from Taylor to Shelby and back to Taylor.