Montana Actually (3 page)

She tried hard not to take offense. She knew the cottage needed work and that was the only reason she’d been able to afford to buy it in the first place. “As relieved as you sound, you still haven’t answered my question as to why you just walked right on in.”

“The door was unlocked. Where I come from, an unlocked door is an invitation to enter whether you’re welcome or not.”

She’d lived in the city, where everyone locked their doors and shut their windows down tight, so she understood, but Bear Paw wasn’t a city and no way was he making this her fault. “No one locks their doors here. It’s one of the joys of living in the country, but people usually call out ‘hello’ before they step inside.”

“Hey, I knocked but you didn’t hear me.” His head tilted slightly and his now-focused eyes zeroed in on her. “You’ve read the articles about ear damage from loud music delivered by earbuds, right?”

His words triggered the voice of her father and her defenses rose. “My music was not that loud.”

He shrugged. “Damage done, then.”

His patronizing tone irked her and her temper started to fray. She knew yelling at this guy wouldn’t help, so she concentrated really hard on trying to sound quiet and cool. “My level of audio acuity is not under question. Are you going to tell me why you’re here or do I need to call the sheriff?”

“The sheriff?” The dimple on his chin seemed to deepen with amusement, making him look sexier than ever. “No need for that. I’m Bear Paw’s new physician.” His tone inferred that this fact explained everything.

“And that’s supposed to reassure me?”

He looked slightly taken aback, as if he’d never experienced this reaction before. “Have you had a bad experience with a medical practitioner?”

Not the way you mean
. “Put it this way: I’ve worked with enough.”

All the concern on his face vanished and he nodded slowly. “So you’re one of
those
nurses?”

She felt herself frown. “One of what nurses?”

His shoulders rose and fell, the movement catching her gaze as it wove across his chest and around abdominal muscles that were indecently ripped.

“Bitter.”

“I’m not bitter,” she said hotly, but at the same time mentally checking whether she was or not. The fact that she felt the necessity worried her. “I’m pragmatic.”

He snorted. “Call it whatever you need to make yourself feel better.” His reddened eyes suddenly narrowed. “Do I have to work with you?”

“God, no.” It came out far more emphatically than she’d intended.

He stiffened as if she’d slapped him, and a spot of heat burned on each of his bladed cheeks. “Just as long as we’re on the same page.”

His arctic tone cooled the hot and steamy room, for which she was thankful. This version of the man she could resist. This version trampled over the unwanted heat her body had so quickly and familiarly given in to. She wrenched the conversation back to where they’d started. “I’m still not clear how you being Bear Paw’s new physician is connected to you coming into my house.”

He sighed as if she were clearly less intelligent than him. “I get a house as part of the job, and the hospital gave me this address. Obviously there’s been some sort of major screwup on their part.”

“You get a house . . .” Her voice trailed off as a slow slither of dread crawled across her skin. There was a severe shortage of rental properties in Bear Paw. Surely Walt hadn’t rented out the house again without telling her? She tried to recall their last conversation. She was positive she’d told him she was moving in.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket. It had been switched off since she’d cut Brent’s call, and she held down the on button. It beeped and vibrated wildly and she stared at the screen. There were six missed calls including two from Walt and a text.
Nooooo.
With a sense of foreboding, she opened it.

Good news, Katrina. Call me. Walt.

A strangled sound came from her throat.

Josh leaned forward. “Everything okay?”

God, I hope so.
“I . . . um . . . I . . . I need to make a call.”

—

JOSH
watched Katrina rush distractedly from the bathroom, pause and then return.

“Feel free to make yourself some coffee. There’s a jar of instant on the bench.” She spun on her heel and disappeared from view, her jet-black hair swinging wildly.

Josh shuddered at the thought of instant coffee. He had yet to taste any that didn’t make gasoline seem palatable. A coffee connoisseur, he had an Italian coffeemaker sitting in his car waiting to be unpacked in his new house. His colleagues at Mercy Hospital had given it to him as a going-away present, saying he might be going west to the middle of nowhere but at least he’d have decent coffee. The state-of-the-art machine would look ludicrous here. He was sure the kitchen hadn’t seen a new device since the invention of the microwave forty years ago.

He heard the echo of footsteps beating a tattoo against the old linoleum floor and the murmur of Katrina’s voice. The woman could go from conciliatory to abrasive in a heartbeat, and she definitely lacked the sympathy gene. Still, no matter how much she annoyed the hell out of him, he hoped she hadn’t just received bad news. No one deserved that.

He’d been the bearer of bad news too many times, watching people slump as his unwelcome words struck them. Seeing their heads rise and their eyes fill before they pleaded with him that surely there had to be another outcome. It was the one part of his job that he found the toughest, because he’d gone into medicine to help, not to cause pain. He preferred to deliver good news and have his hand pumped furiously, which he enjoyed more than being enveloped in a bear hug by the emotionally demonstrative patients.

And he’d just received good news. He wasn’t going to be living in this half-built, half-tumbling-down house. The blanket around his shoulders rubbed against his skin, and a subtle scent of vanilla, freshly cut grass and sunshine tickled his nostrils. It was unfamiliar but he liked it. Ashley had always worn a bold perfume that frequently scented his clothes. More than one patient had given him an odd look from time to time when they’d caught the heady mix of jasmine and lily of the valley.

He breathed in again and realized he’d smelled the scent once before—when Katrina had taken him by the hand and led him down the stairs. It was
her
perfume. The fact that it was redolent of warm, lazy summer afternoons was an oxymoron.

Nothing about Katrina was warm. The physical package of tight, toned and curvy that was utterly enticing on first glance was still gorgeous, and had that compact body come with a fun and flirty personality, he might have been tempted to enjoy some no-strings good times. As it was, he didn’t need the bother of a cold and bitter woman. Given what had gone down with Ashley over the past few months, he wasn’t certain he wanted the bother of a woman, period.

He closed his eyes to rest them. The image of sparkling, emerald green eyes that reminded him of moss, shady glades and crystal clear swimming holes scudded across his vision. Eyes he’d stared into for far too long when she was leaning over him.

Nothing cold there.

He wrenched his eyes open against the definite rush of blood to his groin.
Shit.
Why was this happening? He didn’t even like her.

Back in college that never stopped you.

College was a long time ago and he’d wised up a lot since then. He’d learned the hard way that
nothing
about women was straightforward. Everything was complicated and came with an emotional overlay he never saw coming.

Used to making quick decisions and acting fast, he stood up. It was time to put on dry clothes, drive back to town and check into a motel for the night. Thankfully, this crazy, paint-filled interlude with Katrina Whoever was over. Tomorrow was another day. Hopefully, it would be one where he wasn’t at risk of being injured or insulted.

He strode quickly across the kitchen and outside to his car where he hauled some clothes out of his travel bag. Glancing around and seeing nothing but miles and miles of flat plains and not one single person to offend, he dropped the towel and pulled on jeans and a polo shirt. When he straightened up, he saw what he thought must be a female deer staring at him from across the yard.

After all the dead ones he’d passed on the road, it was great to see one alive. He was surprised at the reddish brown color of its coat, but then again, he’d never given any thought to deer, period, let alone their color. The deer held his gaze for a moment before prancing elegantly away behind the scraggly trees.

The bucolic moment over, Josh picked up the towel and headed back inside to collect his shoes and medical kit. When he had his gear together, he went looking for Katrina to say good-bye. As much as he wanted to avoid another conversation with her, he couldn’t in good conscience just leave without telling her.

She was standing in the living room staring out at the mountains in the distance, and her hair stuck up in jagged spikes as if she’d been pulling at it. This time he didn’t worry about not startling her. “I’m leaving.”

She spun around, her teeth grazing her bottom lip. A very soft and kissable lip. His blood pumped just that bit faster, and he hauled his gaze upward fast, away from the delectable view.

I don’t like her.
He met her emerald eyes. They sparkled like sunshine on moss like before, but now they held a hint of vulnerability that he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Her ebony brows pulled down, giving her a worried look. “Actually, I’m the one who’s leaving.”

“Excuse me?”

She sighed—a weary, heartfelt sound. “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

He knew he should take the bad, but after the paint episode, he figured he deserved the good first. “Good.”

Her wan smile barely turned her mouth upward. “This is the house the hospital’s rented for you.”

His gut rolled over. “If that’s the good news, then what the hell is the bad?”

Her face scrunched up in a grimace that under any other circumstance he may have conceded was cute. “Sadly, I’m your landlord.”

Right then, he didn’t know which one of them was more sorry.

T
he long wooden table in the ranch house kitchen was strewn with the remnants of the birthday supper Katrina had cooked for her mother. All that was left of the prime rib, mashed potatoes, green beans and dessert were a few crumbs that had once been part of a vanilla-frosted layer cake.

“Ty Garver’s bought the adjoining ranch across the west coulee,” her father said when there was finally a break in the conversation.

She gave a silent sigh. Her dad had a large soft spot for Ty, who was the only cowboy she’d ever dated. They’d broken up when she was twenty-two because she’d wanted to leave Montana and experience the East Coast frenzy and have some exciting adventures—live somewhere bigger than Great Falls where she’d gone to college. Ty would have shriveled up and died if he’d left the land, so their parting was inevitable and without rancor. That had been years ago, but the fact that they were both still single seemed to give her father hope.

“I think we should all go visit and welcome him. Katrina, you can take some of those cinnamon cookies you like to bake.”

She opened her mouth to tell her father that he made a better cowboy than a matchmaker but she closed it. Perhaps she should consider her dad’s suggestion. After all, choosing her own partners had hardly been a success.

Are you listening to yourself? You’re an adult and you make your own life choices.

“Dad, I’m sure Ty’s capable of baking his own cookies or he can buy them from the diner. Shannon’s baking them fresh every day.”

Her father’s sky blue eyes met hers, backlit with disapproval. “Have you been in the city so long you’ve forgotten how to be neighborly?”

Crap.
So much for being an adult. “Of course not but—”

“Good. While you’re baking cookies for Ty you can also make some for the new doctor who I met today when I was moving cows.”

No way in hell.
Only this time Katrina wisely kept her thoughts to herself to avoid five sets of eyes zeroing in on her. Eyes filled with what and why; two questions she didn’t want to answer.

“Female?” her mother asked as she stood up to clear the table.

“Sit down, Mom, we’ve got this.” Katrina put her hand on her mother’s shoulder and gently pressed her back into her chair, wondering why her mother seemed hopeful that the doctor was a woman. To her knowledge, Bear Paw had never had a female doctor.

All evening, her mom had been quiet and she looked tired, which was unusual because Bonnie McCade was always brimming with energy. “Are you okay?”

Her mother looked up at her with a smile. “How could I be anything else with everyone home for my birthday this year? You cooked a beautiful meal, honey. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Reassured all was well, she kissed her mom on the cheek before turning to face her younger siblings. She gave both of them her “big sister” death stare. “We’re cleaning up as part of Mom’s birthday treat, right, Dillon, Megan?”

An hour ago, the two of them had rushed into the kitchen asking, “What can we do to help?” Their arrival was perfectly timed to coincide with every task being completed, and the only thing left for them to do was call their parents and sit down to eat the meal. She didn’t know how they managed to do this every single time, but they had domestic avoidance down to an art form.

“You forgot Beau,” Megan said, sounding fourteen instead of twenty-one. “He never helps with the dishes.”

Beau leaned back in his chair and gave his quiet trademark smile. “I butchered the meat,” he said slowly and carefully as was his style. “I carved it”—he took in a breath—“and I set the table, so . . . by my reckoning . . . that gets me out of dish detail.”

Katrina threw dish towels at Megan and Dillon and turned on the hot water faucet.

“The doctor looks to be in his thirties,” her father said as if his conversation hadn’t been truncated by squabbling adult children. “I swear they’re getting younger.”

Bonnie laughed. “I think that means we’re getting older, Kirk.”

“Never.” He leaned across the table and kissed her. “We’ve got years ahead of us still.”

Katrina smiled. She remembered at thirteen being acutely embarrassed when her parents showed any public displays of affection. Now she envied them their deep and abiding love for each other built on a foundation of respect. And she envied their honesty with each other. They were a team in every sense of the word. She’d never gotten close to having that sort of a relationship with another person.

An unexpected ache pressed heavy in her chest, and she had to fist her hand to prevent it from rising to rub it. What on earth was the matter with her tonight? She didn’t need a man in her life to be happy, and given her track record, she sure as hell didn’t need another one to make her unhappy.

“It’s a shame they couldn’t hire a female doctor,” Bonnie said, sounding disappointed.

Katrina shut off the water and glanced at her mom. “You’re never sick, so why the worry?”

“Oh, I was thinking more of the young mothers in the county,” she said quickly, waving her hand as if that explained everything. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a woman.”

Kirk and Beau exchanged a look of horror that the conversation was about to stray into the terrifying territory of women’s bits and pieces, and Kirk said hurriedly, “And before you ask, I took note. No sign of a wedding ring on his finger and he seems pleasant enough.”

Megan, a literature student, elbowed Katrina in the ribs. “A single man in his thirties with good financial prospects. Maybe you should wear a dress to work in the diner tomorrow instead of your jeans.”

“I’m not looking,” she said more curtly than she’d planned.

Megan looked at her far too intently for comfort. Katrina immediately went into damage control and addressed the room. “Why am I always the one supposedly looking for a man? What about Beau? He’s still single and he’s older, but no one’s hounding him to settle down.”

“I don’t think Beau’s looking for a guy, unless there’s something you’re not telling us, bro?” Dillon said, flicking him with a dishcloth.

Beau laughed easily and put Dillon in a headlock before dragging him toward the door. “For th-that, you’re helping me . . . check fences. While there’s still . . . light.”

“Hey, you’re poaching the help,” Katrina protested, but the screen door was already slamming shut behind them.

Her parents headed out to the double rocker on the porch just as Megan’s phone rang. She checked the caller ID and her eyes lit up. She immediately dropped the dish towel. “I
have
to take this,” she said with all the drama of a just-post-teen.

As she walked out of the kitchen, Katrina heard her say, “Hi. This is unexpected,” in the throaty voice she always used when she was talking to a guy she liked.

The old kitchen clock ticked loudly on the mantel as Katrina plunged her hands into the white, frothy suds. She stared out the kitchen window, watching the moths flying toward the light, and she fought the melancholy that she was almost thirty, stuck living with her family who had her placed firmly in the role of eldest daughter, and now she was unable to move into her own place.

She gave a wry smile. If the new doctor had been the woman her mother was hoping for—and that hope still confounded her—then perhaps she could have suggested a house-share arrangement. But there was no way on God’s green earth that she was ever suggesting that idea to Dr. Josh Stanton. She could just imagine his reaction.

Thinking about him exploded the memory of his naked chest in her mind. It was hard not to think about it, given it had always been at eye level this afternoon. He was so much taller than she was, so unless she tilted her head all the way back, her gaze had constantly been facing his delineated pectoral muscles with their light dusting of sandy brown hair.

Soaking him in. Wondering what they felt like.

She pulled her suddenly itching hands out of the dishwater, feeling hot and disoriented. Flicking on the faucet, she ran cool water against her wrists and sighed. Thinking about Josh had to stop, because no matter how decadently sexy he was, the antipathy that ran between them was palpable. It had disaster written all over it, and she was
not
falling back into bad habits. Coming home to Bear Paw was supposed to protect her from that.

She plunged the greasy baking dish into the suds, thankful that the day was almost over and that tomorrow was a new day. A perfectly normal day that had absolutely no reason to involve a doctor.

—

JOSH
bounced his leg up and down and stared at the pile of hospital forms in front of him, certain his already tender eyes would bleed. Day two in Bear Paw was proving to be similar to day one, but instead of paint and the difficult Katrina with the very kissable lips to frustrate him—lips he was so not thinking about—he had jovial Floyd Coulson, the hospital administrator.

“So complete those forms and then you’ll be good to go,” Floyd said, handing him a pen. “How’s the house?”

Where to start?
“It’s not in town.”

Floyd beamed. “Isn’t that great? We thought you’d prefer it out there away from the hustle. You know, get some peace to recharge at the end of each day. We don’t want you to burn out on us.”

Somehow, Josh managed to cut off a snort of incredulity, but it caught at his throat and turned into a cough. From the little he’d seen of Bear Paw, there was nothing close to hustle, and the only bustle he’d seen was one car stopped at the traffic signal when he crossed. Last night, out at the house, it had been the eerie, howling noise of the coyotes that had kept him awake until all hours. Give him the soothing rumble of the EL anytime.

“The thing is, Floyd,” he said, leaning forward, “so I can best meet the needs of the town, it’s probably important that I live close by the hospital.”

“That’s a caring thought, son, but the fact is, Katrina McCade’s house is the only rental available at the moment.”

He tried not to grind his teeth. “It needs work.”

Floyd shrugged. “Looks like a sound house to me, but make a list of what needs doing and give it to Walt or directly to Katrina. She’s an obliging young woman and I’m sure she’ll organize the repairs.”

Obliging?
Were they talking about the same person?

The memory of her standing, glaring at him with her arms crossed over her breasts and more than a hint of rounded, smooth flesh peeking out from the top of her blouse slugged him hard. His body instantly reacted with joyful anticipation.
God. Damn. It.

“If something becomes available in town,” he said rather too loudly as he tried to get his body back under control, “I’m moving.”

Floyd’s friendly smile dimmed slightly at his curt tone. “Noted.”

Josh pushed on with his grievances and tapped the paper in front of him. “The job description said board-certified ER physician for the hospital, and that’s what I am. Nowhere did it mention a primary care physician.”

“Well, son, this is Bear Paw.”

Josh was really starting to dislike this expression. Floyd had used it more than once. “And that means exactly . . . ?”

“That Bear Paw needs both types of doctor but can only afford one.”

Hell, the whole point of specializing in ER was so that he didn’t have to do primary care and deal with a patient or their family for longer than one shift. Not that he wasn’t sympathetic—he was. He just did it better in short, sharp bursts. Triage, treat to stabilize and refer on, was his motto. “And if I refuse to work at the clinic?”

Floyd leaned back, pressing his fingers into steeples, looking for the first time like a real administrator. “You’ll be breaking your contract, which, as I outlined, comes with some hefty financial penalties.”

And coming to Bear Paw wasn’t hefty penalty enough?
“So basically, I’m screwed.”

Floyd shook his head, a fatherly expression on his face. “No, son, you’re our new physician and you’ll be dividing your time between the clinic and the ER.”

“How the hell is that going to work?” he asked, thinking about a waiting room full of patients when he had to dash to the ER.

“It’s real close,” Floyd said proudly, rising to his feet. “Come on, I’ll show you. You just have to walk across the grass, and in winter we keep the path salted and shoveled for you.”

Incredulity whipped him so hard his head spun. “I meant the patients. What do the patients do if I’m caught up in the ER?”

“They’re used to waiting,” Floyd said matter-of-factly, walking out of the office.

Waiting?
He leaped out of his chair to follow the man who in essence was his boss. He hated being accountable to a number cruncher who had no clue about the needs of patients. “But that could be hours,” he said, catching up as they exited the building.

If Floyd had heard him, he chose not to respond. Instead, he pointed out the ER entrance before crossing a grassed square that had been created by the hospital and two other buildings.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Floyd raised an arm to encompass the scene. “The town raised the money for the picnic tables and bench seats. Makes a nice place for the patients to get some fresh air.”

Josh, who was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was expected to split himself in half to do the job of two doctors, barely noticed the cheery flower beds. He did, however, see a man in a wheelchair smoking a cigarette.
Fresh air, my ass.