Hot-Shot Doc, Secret Dad: A Single Dad Romance

Getting a girl pregnant hadn’t been his plan that year. Not by a long shot. Hell, he’d just found out the week before his mother had had an abnormal endometrial biopsy and needed more tests. Worrying about her, and about how his first semester in competitive medical school would go, with his big brother’s exceptional brain to compete with, he’d decided to let off some steam that one last weekend, before he’d have to completely buckle down.

And he’d danced with the girl with wild hair and the biggest eyes he could remember.

Zebulon whinnied about something, and Trevor glanced up again. Jack was already heading to the fence and had nearly caught up to him. Who knew how long Trevor had been sitting on the range, staring and thinking?

The man waved as he approached, then stopped. “Thanks for the heads up. We can’t afford to have any more steer wander off. Not with the grey wolves showing up more and more in these parts.”

“Thanks.”

“Until we can budget for putting chips in our cattle, we’ll have to manage like we always have.” Branding and fences seemed so far out of date. Jack was in his early forties and kept up with modern ranching trends. Truth was, Tiberius—Monty—Montgomery was old-school, and not the least bit interested in learning new techniques, or utilizing software and technology for running his ranch. The man still insisted on keeping handwritten bookkeeping ledgers, which Trevor would have to transfer to his own computer books when he got home.

“I’ll talk to Dad again about the cost to chip the cattle, and mention the long-term savings.”

“You do that. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

Trevor seriously doubted it.

The men smiled at each other and went their separate ways, leaving Trevor to his mind-boggling thoughts. He remembered the exact instant he’d realized Julie was a virgin, he’d stopped thrusting for a moment and looked at her. “Are you sure?” he’d asked. Though she’d grimaced, she’d bucked under his hips, urging him not to stop. He had been soon taken over by his desire; the fact they were having sex while lying in a foot of hay in a barn loft for her first time hadn’t registered. Nope, it was only after they’d snuggled up close afterwards, and he had smelled summer in her hair and sex on her skin, that he’d started to feel guilty. He’d been on the verge of bringing up the subject when two of her friends had called her name at the barn entrance, told her they were leaving and she’d better come with them. Julie had jumped up, thrown on her dress and underwear, then kissed him one last time and disappeared with her girlfriends. That was when their situation had started to sink in.

No, she wouldn’t see him again.

She hadn’t had a clue he’d be gone by Monday, yet he’d let her go, then lain there and stared through the cracks in the roof of the barn at the black summer sky, thinking he’d done something he shouldn’t have. Something he’d really enjoyed, but would regret. And he hadn’t even had the decency to see her home.

Well, at least she hadn’t lost her virginity in the back of the old beat-up car he’d been driving that summer, his brother’s hand-me-down. A barn loft had to be more romantic than that. Right?

He racked his brain and knew he’d used contraception, just as he had all through college. No girl had gotten pregnant … until Julie.

Zebulon galloped toward the barn, like a homing pigeon, obviously eager to get brushed and fed. Trevor dismounted his horse and pushed the nagging thought of Julie and that night out of his mind. He should have at least said goodbye to her. It was the decent thing to do. He should have called and told her he was sorry for taking her virginity, too. Yet he’d done neither. Instead he’d left town for med school and never looked back. Soon forgetting all about her and that night.

Until her name and credentials had come across his desk on a job application.

His long-overdue apology hadn’t been the least bit honorable. It had been obligatory and smarmy. What a heel he’d turned out to be.

Trevor walked the path to his home, the only place he’d ever lived, outside college and medical school, and gritted his teeth thinking it would be extra hard to hide his feelings from his father over dinner tonight. But he sure as hell would because this was one topic he did not want to bring up over one of Gretchen’s casseroles.

But at least by hiring Julie today, he had a chance to make up for taking advantage of her thirteen years ago. There might still be a chance to win back a thread of honor. To meet his son and become the father the kid deserved.

The thought scared the tar out of him.

The next morning Julie kept her word and arrived at the clinic fifteen minutes early, butterflies swarming through her insides and gathering in her stomach. Charlotte, the RN, was there to greet her. Late forties. Graying dull brown hair pulled back tight in a low ponytail. Stocky and average height, wearing a glaring white uniform. Julie surmised the woman loved being a nurse.

“So you’re our new RNP?” Charlotte shoved out a sturdy and rough hand for a shake. “Nice to meet you. Call me Lotte, like my friends. What do you say I give you a tour of the joint before you shadow Dr. Montgomery?”

Grateful for putting off facing Trevor for a second time, especially since she could barely sleep last night from thinking of him, Julie smiled. “I’d love to, thanks.”

Fifteen minutes later, having been shown how each examination room was set up, as well as the procedure room, where the medical supplies and ever-important linens were kept, Julie was escorted back to Trevor’s office.

“Good morning,” he said, looking intriguing and appealing with a day’s growth of beard. The vision nearly made her stop in her tracks. Then she noticed his wildeyed glance and understood how deeply she’d rocked his world yesterday.

Yeah, they both had things to deal with, and working together wouldn’t be easy.

Julie greeted him with a catch in her breath. Those flashing dark eyes were responsible. As well as the perfectly ironed classic Western shirt. Why did she have to notice?

She’d taken extra care to wear comfortable yet stylish clothes today. Black slacks with matching low-heeled leather boots, and an ice-blue thin sweater that her hazel eyes would surely pick up the color from. She’d pulled her hair back from her face, with a folded blue, patterned scarf tied at her neck under the hair that dusted her shoulders. It was either that or a dull old black headband, and she’d gone for color and California style. Not that she’d wanted to catch Trevor’s attention or anything.

These days, in LA, doctors and RNPs no longer wore white coats. She was interested to see if she’d be given one here since studies had shown lab coats carried germs instead of protecting doctors and patients from them.

Trevor motioned her over. “Let me show you the charting system.”

Julie didn’t want to get too close, but he used a small laptop computer to sign in on for their first patient. Sure enough, she had to get close enough to catch the scent of his soap and masculine aftershave and the effect was far too heady for this time of the morning. Fortunately, the young man’s information popped up, distracting her, and Trevor explained the various windows to use and entries she’d be required to make.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you do this until you feel ready.” He tossed her a friendly smile that put her on edge instead of comforting her. How would she handle the entire orientation at such close range? She needed to adjust her attitude and quick. If he could act detached and businesslike so could she.

Switching to all business, she armored herself with a professional disposition. Besides, Trevor seemed to have already forgotten yesterday’s news, and, even though it cut deep, Julie was grateful for the hiatus.

Trevor stood, laptop in hand, and headed for Exam Room One, where Donald Richardson, a twenty-seven-year-old type-1 diabetic ranch hand, waited. His chief complaint being nasal congestion for ten days and a headache for the past four to five.

After a friendly greeting and introduction of Julie to the patient, Trevor performed a quick examination of his nasal passages. Based on the examination, plus seeing a chart notation from Lotte, it seemed Donald’s temperature was elevated. Trevor told him it looked like he had a sinus infection.

“Take off your shirt so I can listen to your lungs,” Dr. Montgomery said.

Off came the shirt, and Trevor did not look pleased. “What’s this?” He pointed to a colorful shoulder tattoo.

Donald gave a sheepish glance. “My new tattoo.”

Trevor still didn’t look happy, and Julie assumed it was because of the possibility for complications that diabetics might face with body art.

“Did you bring your daily blood-sugar numbers?” Trevor wasn’t going to give the man a break just yet. He pushed some buttons on the laptop and brought up the most recent lab results, then took the small booklet Donald handed him. After glancing at the last couple weeks’ blood sugars, and sliding-scale insulin injections, he shared the info with Julie. She glanced at the computer screen and saw that Donald’s last A1C test was under 7 percent, which was a good thing.

“You know your kidney function has been borderline for a while now, and if you don’t keep your blood sugar under control, getting a tattoo can be dangerous.”

Donald hung his head, as if he was sick of hearing the diabetes story whenever he wanted to do or try something new. “I’ve been keeping it clean and there isn’t any sign of infection.”

“And that’s a good thing. But would you do me a favor, and next time you decide to get a tattoo, or body piercing or anything invasive, would you let me run some lab tests first? The last thing you need is to put your life in danger. If your blood sugar is high, a tattoo can be a playground for bacteria. That bacteria can invade your body and cause all kinds of trouble. Which is exactly what you don’t need.”

“I’ve been doing pretty good with the blood sugars.”

“I can see that. I’m just playing the devil’s advocate.”

From Julie’s assessment, Donald kept his weight under control and looked healthy. But the outside package didn’t always reflect the microscopic goings-on inside the body.

“I understand. You’re just looking out for me.”

“As long as we understand each other.”

“Okay. I promise. But, really, isn’t she a beaut?” Donald nodded at the tropical-inspired tattoo. “Whenever it’s colder than the North Pole up here, I’m going to look at this picture and dream about being in Hawaii.”

Trevor smiled. “That’s another place you’d have to work extra hard to keep your sugars balanced. Hot sticky weather is a playground—”

“—for bacteria. I get it, Doc.”

They exchanged a strained smile, and Julie fought to keep hers to herself.

“Well, the prescription I’m writing for the sinus infection should help, in case this tattoo springs an infection.” He wrote it out, tore it off, and handed it to the younger man. “If you notice any pain, swelling, redness, warmth, streaks or pus on or near that tattoo you let me know immediately.”

“I will, Dr. Montgomery, I promise,” Donald said as he buttoned up his shirt.

“And I gave you seven days of antibiotics for your sinuses. Take all of them. After that, if you aren’t completely cleared up, give me a call.”

“Will do.”

“Oh, and this is Julie Sterling, our new nurse practitioner.”

They gave a friendly greeting, and within seconds Julie nodded goodbye and followed Trevor out the door. Essentially, she agreed with his assessment and plan for Donald. But before she could say a word, Trevor was heading to the next patient’s exam room. He’d been adding all the pertinent data about Donald Richardson into the computer as he went along in the appointment. She wondered how long it would take her to become as proficient with the program.

He entered the next room and immediately washed his hands, as he’d done with the first patient, and made a friendly greeting while doing so. Julie would give Trevor an A for bedside manner—oh, wait, she’d already learned about his bedside manner … a long, long time ago. Man, she needed to erase that picture from her mind. And quick.

By lunchtime they’d hardly spoken ten non-medical-related words to each other, concentrating solely on the patient load and treatments. Their bodies being cramped together in small patient-exam rooms kept an unwanted heat simmering beneath Julie’s cool and calculated surface. Try as she might, she couldn’t ignore her reaction to being near Trevor.

At noon sharp, Lotte came waltzing into Trevor’s office, while he was explaining the required codes for specific ailments and treatments and labs. Julie’s head was spinning with intellectual overload and she was grateful when he handed her a printout of the codes. Until their fingers touched and some crazy tingly reaction nearly made her already-spinning head take flight.

“Come with me, Ms. Sterling,” Lotte said. “May I call you Julie?”

“Of course.” Thank heavens the woman was oblivious to anything beyond the clinic, because Julie was quite sure her cheeks had gone pink. She mentally crossed her fingers that Trevor hadn’t noticed.

“Let me show you the lunch room. Did you bring your lunch?”

“Oh.” Julie had been so nervous about facing Trevor again after the bombshell she’d laid on him yesterday that preparing her lunch had been the last thing on her mind. “I didn’t bring one.”

“Then let me give you a rundown of the local cafés.” Lotte pulled Julie by the arm out of Trevor’s office, and he barely glanced up, until Julie looked back and caught him taking a quick glance. Yipes, there went the head-spinning tingles again the instant their eyes connected. But just as quickly his interest shut down and he went back to the computer task at hand.

This all-business routine was wearing thin. Did it also mean he wouldn’t see her as a human being? “I’ll see you at one, then?”

He nodded, not bothering to look up again from his computer. “See you then.”

She detected he was angry with her, and couldn’t blame him, but also wondered if he was at all curious about James.

Lotte must not have realized that Julie had grown up in town and knew the main stretch like the back of her hand, so Julie let Lotte recommend her favorite spots. One of the cafés Lotte had named was new and Julie decided to give that one a try.

For a town like Cattleman Bluff, whose main claim to fame was the longest antler arch in the state of Wyoming—which she made a point to walk beside and then under while crossing the street, admiring the sheer number of antlers and the thick woven arch they created—the main street did seem to have a few new spots. An appealing dress boutique caught her eye, and a bookstore, actually a second bookstore since the first only specialized in used and unique books, went on her list of places to check out in the future.

The old-style café had a counter and she slipped onto the last available red vinyl stool to make her order.

Halfway through her ham sandwich and cup of homemade vegetable soup she heard the young waitress tell a customer his lunch was ready and waiting with a much cheerier note than when she’d taken Julie’s order.

“Thanks.”

Surprised by the voice, Julie turned to see Trevor accept the sack of take-out food, along with the huge and hopeful smile from the young server.

“Just the way you like it, Dr. Montgomery.”

“You never let me down, Karen. Thanks. Put it on my tab.”

The shapely waitress followed him to the door, and Julie couldn’t help watching them talk briefly together before he left. Dating? Who knew? That was entirely his business, but, since Julie’s pulse had stepped up a beat or two just seeing Trevor relating to the attractive woman, she chided herself for caring.

When Julie finished her tea she asked for her bill.

“Oh. No worries. That’s been taken care of by Dr. Montgomery.”

Julie raised her brows and noticed the waitress’s carefully observant eyes watching her every move. “Oh, well, then, I’ll be sure to thank him.”

As Julie left the lunch counter she could have sworn she heard the young woman mumble, “I’m sure you will …”

Did she think she had claims on Trevor Montgomery any more than Julie did?

There was no way Julie could know the answer to that, but one thing was sure: she’d bring her lunch tomorrow and skip eating at this café in the future.

The afternoon appointments were all fairly routine, and, since Julie needed time to tackle the computer charting, Trevor suggested she spend the rest of the day with Lotte and Rita. A relief to Julie, since being forced to watch Trevor all morning had caused a list of unwanted reactions, none of which were proper, so she took the assignment and ran.

Except he showed up in her office looking torn. “I’ve got an I and D in Exam Room Three. You want to take care of it?”

She understood this was an opportunity for him to evaluate her on an incision-and-drainage procedure. “Sure. Is it a boil or an abscess?”

“A boil.”

She dropped what she was doing with Lotte and Rita, and followed him down the hall. He introduced her to Molly Escobar, a fifty-six-year-old librarian who had formed a ping-pong-ball-sized boil in her right armpit. The area in question was red, angry-looking and weeping pus.

Following protocol from her prior clinical experience for this minor surgical procedure, Julie first cleansed the skin with antiseptic and injected topical anesthetic to numb the area before using a scalpel with a sterile blade to make a small incision to allow the pus to flow out. As she worked she kept in mind that a regular boil looked the same as MRSA and the only way to tell the difference was if the usual antibiotics didn’t help clear the infection. She’d save time and start with a broad-spectrum antibiotic active against both staph and strep just in case.

Once she’d drained the boil, and thoroughly cleaned the area, it looked clear of infection and had healthy tissue at the base, so she placed four sutures. Then she put on a thin layer of sterile gauze followed by a sterile dressing, which would need to be changed daily.

“I’m going to have our nurse show you how to change the dressing, and I want to see you back on Monday for a follow-up visit, okay?”

Dr. Montgomery had been as quiet as an overgrown barn mouse watching her every move, connecting with her glances whenever she looked up during the procedure, blinking his approval, evidently never feeling compelled to make any suggestions.

After Charlotte came to take Ms. Escobar to the procedure room, and they were alone, Trevor looked at Julie and smiled. “You have a gentle touch, Julie,” he said, their eyes lingering briefly longer than necessary, and causing an unwanted reaction behind her breastbone.

“Thank you.” She needed to step away from him. Now. “I’ll go input the notes in the computer,” she said, and sailed out of the room.

By 5:00 p.m. the clinic closed, and Julie walked with Lotte and Rita to the parking lot. Trevor was on his way out, too, and, without knowing, Julie had parked next to his car. She glanced at him, disturbed to find his gaze already settled on her, as she opened her door.

“Dr. Montgomery?” a man’s voice called from across the parking lot.

Trevor looked up, smiled, and waited for the middle-aged man to approach. Julie moved around the car to put in her trunk a ream of paperwork given to her by Lotte to study that night. She dallied out of pure nosiness.

“What’s up, Connor?”

As the man got closer Julie realized the guy was dressed shabbily and looked down on his luck.

“I was wondering if you can give me some advice about—”

Lotte spoke up from two cars down; evidently Julie hadn’t been the only one to linger out of nosiness. “Mr. Parker, you know you’re supposed to make an appointment for those kinds of things.”

“That’s okay, Charlotte, go ahead and go home,” Trevor said, dismissing her in a kind way.

Julie was thinking the same thing—the guy should make an appointment, not hit up the doctor for a parking-lot consultation—but decided to keep her mouth shut if she wanted to stick around to find out what was going on, and if she valued her new job.

“Thanks, Doctor. With the cold weather and all, feet in boots all day and half the night—I’m working a second job as a security guard at Turner’s Hardware—I’ve developed athlete’s foot and I was wondering if you have any samples of that cream you gave me last time?”

“I don’t, but I’ll share a little trick. What you can do is urinate on your feet in the shower. Plug the drain so you can soak your feet in it for a minute or so. Doesn’t cost a penny. Let me know how it works.”

The man looked perplexed, but grateful and willing to give the old wives’ tale a try. “Thanks, Doc. I’ll be sure to let you know how it works.”

As the man walked off Julie folded her arms, no longer able to keep her thoughts to herself. “You don’t expect that to cure his athlete’s foot, do you?”

“My grandmother swore by using urine on her cracked feet, even kept a jar of it for her winter-cracked hands, and folks have been recommending urine for foot fungus for years.”

“Topical antifungals have something like forty percent urea in them, and urine has … what? Two point five percent tops?”

“Your point?” One arm on the roof of his car, looking over the top, he nailed her with a perturbed stare.

“Your treatment won’t be very helpful for him. He might need a strong topical fungicide, or possibly an oral-medicine prescription.”

He took his time to inhale, as though patience was his biggest virtue. “Look, the guy’s health insurance has such a high deductible he can’t afford to make appointments. Let alone buy medicine on the chance it may or may not help, or, worse yet, try oral medicine that can cause liver and heart issues as a side effect. The man’s got six kids and a wife with a lot of physical problems. You heard him—he works two jobs. I’m just trying to save him some money, that’s all.” His brows formed a V as he dared her to challenge his wisdom.

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