The Dashing Doc Next Door

“Wow,” Gage drawled, “you weren’t just smart, you must have been a little Einstein.”

Feeling undeserving of such praise, Brooke replied, “It was more about wanting to please my father. He’s the brilliant one.”

“Where does he live? You said he’s out of the country? I can’t help noticing that he hasn’t come up to see your aunt yet.”

It struck Brooke that he misunderstood which of her parents Aunt Marsha was biologically related to. “She’s my mother’s older sister. By fifteen years,” she added, knowing that he would be confused, considering her own age. “Marsha never did warm to my father. And I have to admit that went both ways, so my father tends to keep his distance. But a lovely arrangement of flowers arrived from him the evening I arrived.” Or from his secretary, Brooke thought with some cynicism. She also wouldn’t tell Gage that as other gestures arrived from dear friends, Marsha had donated her father’s arrangement to the nursing home in town. All she offered was, “My father runs his own investment business, which is based out of Houston, but he travels the world over.”

Looking neither impressed nor intimidated, Gage said, “Obviously, you admire him. I hope he’s equally proud of you?”

“Sometimes,” Brooke demurred, ignoring personal hurt to reach for diplomacy. “He thinks I’m being foolish in how I’ve chosen to handle things here.”

That sent Gage’s eyebrows rising. “What would he have you do? Leave your aunt alone in the hospital and let her business flounder?”

“My aunt would never be totally alone,” Brooke replied, her loyalties torn. “As you’re aware, she knows virtually everyone in town, and then there’s that broad network of friends in church. She’ll never want for company. As for the shop... I could have asked Naomi to handle things—at least temporarily. She retired, but she’s helping me with the more involved orders or a big event. Only, Naomi doesn’t need or want to work full-time again. Despite being two years younger than Aunt Marsha, her own health isn’t that great.”

“The other younger woman there—Kiki, you called her this morning?”

“Yes. Kimberly Katherine is her real name, only her talents lie in the front of the store. She never trained to do arrangements, and my aunt isn’t close to giving her full management authority—Kiki has only just graduated from the community college. In Aunt Marsha’s viewpoint, she’s still a child, so my coming seemed the least disruptive for everyone.”

“Except for you,” Gage said quietly.

“Please,” Brooke entreated, “forget I complained about having to leave Dallas.”

“Okay... If you’ll tell me why there’s no one back home miserable that you’re here?”

It wasn’t a matter she let herself dwell on too often. “Let’s just say that I’ve been luckier in business than I have in love.” Hearing that phrasing had her immediately covering her eyes with her free hand. “Considering that I’m unemployed, that’s not saying much, is it?

“The problem is that the men who show interest in me either don’t react well if I’m more successful than they are, or—if they don’t mind, or find value in that—they still want me to be available at a moment’s notice like some trophy wife. I’m not someone who can spend half a day in a spa and the rest shopping while waiting for a guy to text me that he’s ready for my company.”

Gage just sat there watching her, but Brooke could read his mind as though he’d spoken. “You’re wondering how often that’s happened,” she said, with more than a little chagrin. “Enough times to be content to focus on my career at this stage of my life.”

“What I think,” Gage replied, slowly amending her opinion, “is that it sounds like someone hurt you pretty badly.”

Having had a few months to think over the matter, Brooke didn’t hesitate in her response. “No. He made me angry. His lack of respect disappointed me.”

“Does he have a name?” At her arched look, Gage offered amiably, “Just in case he happens to show up acting like he owns the place and you need some backup.”

“Parker. Parker Minot. But he won’t do that. When I close doors, they stay shut.”

Nodding slowly as he digested that, Gage said, “Strong woman. I’m relieved.”

Glad to have that done with, Brooke thought it only fair to see how he acted when the tables were turned. “What about you?”

“Pretty much the same story.”

“What, you couldn’t handle half a day in a spa, either?”

Grinning, Gage rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know—there are days when a good massage would be heaven. But no, I was referring to the unlucky part. On principle, I’m just a guy who likes to do the chasing, not be wearing a target on my back—or on my checkbook. If you ask my mother, though, she’ll tell you that I’m more fickle than my sisters ever were.” He struggled for and failed at a scowl of indignation. “I thought only women could be fickle.”

“Ho-ho,” Brooke replied. “Men are perfectly capable of being changeable and less than faithful.” Curiosity got the best of her. “So even after resolving the office situation by hiring Roy, you’re being chased, huh? Do the ladies bring their poodles and Pekinese into the clinic under false pretenses?”

“It’s calmed down some, but it happens. I have more work than I can handle, and it’s not fair for clients with animals in crisis to have to wait because of something clearly superficial. Then there’s the perfume they douse themselves and their pooches with. I confess there are times we can’t get them out of the building fast enough.”

“The things some women will stoop to,” Brooke lamented in mock protest of her sex.

As Gage leaned over to gently nudge her with his shoulder, Humphrey uttered a soft “woof.” Mounting the stairs far more slowly than he’d descended, he waddled to Gage. With a baleful look, he put one paw on his almost bare foot.

“What’s that all about?” Brooke asked. “Is he wanting me to get off his side of the glider?”

“Nah, this probably just reminded him of the good old days. My dog, Joey, used to come over with me to visit with him and Marsha, and even though Joey was a big chocolate Lab, he was really gentle with Humph. Joe made it to the ripe old age of sixteen, but he passed away right after Christmas.”

“How sad...but what a wonderful friendship you must have shared—and Humphrey, too.” Brooke leaned over to scratch the hound under his chin. Could it be that this was another reason for the poor dog to be having such strong separation anxiety from her aunt? “I guess, then, that he’s asking when things are going to get better?”

“Pretty much. I know he’s ready for me to bring him a new playmate, but I just haven’t been ready yet. That’s another reason it’s good for him to come to the clinic. We have dogs being boarded all the time if the family is on vacation. There’ll usually be someone for Humph to play with if he tires of human company.”

Knowing she had yet to fully appreciate what people like her aunt and Gage felt toward their pets, Brooke shifted to face him. “Was Joey one of those dogs that went everywhere with you?”

“You bet. He knew when he could jump out of the truck and when to stay put. He liked everybody—well, almost everybody,” he amended with a secret smile. “He instinctively gave wide berth to people with short fuses, even when they were behaving.”

When he took a deeper swallow of wine, Brooke recognized that he was ready to change the subject. “You still haven’t told me what made you settle in Sweet Springs?”

“An aversion to being cold.”

“Where did you go to school?”

“Texas A&M. I finished my training here at the clinic.”

“No kidding? I guess Aunt Marsha may have mentioned that, but I must’ve been just getting out of high school and was totally fixated on college at the time. How long have you lived next door?”

“Just over two years.”

That explained why they hadn’t met sooner. “I haven’t been getting over here as much.”

“And prior to that, there was college and grad school.”

That again confirmed that her aunt had confided plenty in him. “Well, Dad expected a 4.0 average daughter.”

Gage’s expression turned pained. “I don’t mean to offend, but your father sounds more like a field marshal or a paid personal trainer than a dad.”

He was partly correct, and Brooke could only admit ruefully, “He’s definitely one of a kind.” Not liking this subject any better, she nodded to Gage’s glass. “Are you ready for a refill? Now that the wine temperature has had a chance to warm to perfection, you should really like the bouquet.”

“I shouldn’t drink all of your present.”

Knowing by the halfhearted protest that he wanted her to coax him, she reached for his glass. “Wine is always better when shared.”

He outmaneuvered her and took her glass instead. “In that case, at least let me do the legwork. You enjoy the rest of this sunset.”

As he disappeared into the house, Humphrey looked perplexedly from her to the door. “Oh, don’t worry,” she assured the pooch. “He’ll be right back. You won’t have to suffer my company for too long.”

The soulful-eyed dog let his front paws slide, and he settled on his tummy, then rolled halfway over to press his back against her feet. After a second of surprise, Brooke leaned over again to stroke his sleek, short fur.

“Well, thank you, Mr. Charming. So if he likes me, you’re going to give me the benefit of the doubt? How magnanimous of you.”

Gage returned with the wine and a beefy treat from the pantry for Humphrey. The dog sprang up to a sitting position, grinning in pleasure. As soon as Gage gave him the snack, he lay down and started to chew enthusiastically.

“I thought treats after dinner were frowned upon?” she asked, accepting her glass.

“When I saw him scooting over to you, I thought he should get some reward.” After resuming his seat, Gage touched his glass to hers. “Here’s to things continuing to work out to everyone’s satisfaction.”

The openly inviting look in his eyes told Brooke that he was also talking about matters that had nothing to do with Humph behaving and bonding with her, or Aunt Marsha. But they soon fell into easy conversation again, and before Brooke knew it, their glasses were almost empty once more. They had covered several other topics—local politics, who was closing their business, who was opening one and finding a reliable lawn-care person. That last subject had Gage reacting right away.

“Don’t worry about it—I’ve been doing Marsha’s yard at the same time I’ve been doing mine. With my big zero-turn machine, it takes no time at all.”

“You’re sure? I already feel as though I’m taking advantage.”

“Positive. If the guilt gets too bad, just invite me over for another glass of wine.” When Gage noticed her slapping at mosquitoes for the third time, he reluctantly rose to his feet. “We’d better call it a night before the bats join the mosquitoes and try to carry you away.”

“Was that a diplomatically phrased short joke?” She narrowed her eyes with playful speculation.

“Only stating the obvious—you’re the one with the most tempting skin.”

Cocooned in the amber glow of the porch light that had just come on automatically, Brooke felt more than relaxed; she felt part of a special moment that she honestly wished wasn’t ending. What a surprise, considering her previous intent to keep him at arm’s distance.

“Thank you...and for the visit. I can’t remember when time passed so quickly or pleasantly,” she admitted, rising herself.

“That’s good to hear. That means if I suggest it again, you’ll say yes.”

Before she knew what was happening, Gage leaned over and tenderly kissed her cheek. The caress sent such a unique warmth through her body that Brooke tried to quickly blame it on the wine.

“That would be nice, but you’re the one who said you have more work than you can handle,” she reminded him, before any additional romantic thoughts—and ghostly yearnings—tripped her up. “And I have to get back to my schedule of spending evenings with Aunt Marsha.” Then doing the bookkeeping when she got home. That wasn’t going to happen tonight. Right now all she felt capable of doing was to shower and slide into her comfy bed.

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