Carol Ross - Bachelor Remedy

* * *

TAG WISHED HE could take the words back before they were even out of his mouth. A flicker of something was there and gone from her face faster than the beat of a swallow’s wing. Disgust maybe? Which he might deserve. Bering was right. Normally, Tag was the easygoing, slow to boil, diplomatic one.

Admittedly, he’d come here geared up for a possibly unpleasant conversation, but a professional one. Ally Mowak didn’t seem to have any problem maintaining a professional tone, whereas he’d just blown it. Her expression remained as unreadable as a slab of granite, and he couldn’t help but think he’d disappointed her in some profound way. Or maybe that was his own disappointment nibbling at him.

When she didn’t speak, he let out a sigh and tried backtracking, “What I was trying to say is that I don’t need anyone to advise me on how to do my job, Ms. Mowak. I’ve been at this a very long time.”

“Ally,” she said. “Please call me Ally. And the same goes for me.” Shrugging a shoulder, she continued in that same serene, not-quite-condescending way that he was fast learning was how she spoke. “But isn’t that what you’re really doing here now? Telling me how to do my job?”

“Uh, no.” He resisted the urge to scratch his itchy scalp because he sort of was, wasn’t he? He hadn’t meant to, not exactly. “That wasn’t my intention, anyway.”

“Did you or did you not see a woman who you interpreted as too young for this job and then decided that you’d teach her a thing or two? You, with your wisdom honed from years of experience, would come to the aid of an inexperienced, newbie female colleague?”

“No!” That he was not doing. “Nope. No way. Don’t even try that on me.”

“Don’t try what on you?”

“There’s no misogyny or ageism or sexism or racism or any other ‘ism’ going on here. I have four sisters and a boatload of female cousins, all of whom are younger than me. Each one is equally as smart and capable as I am, more so in many, many ways. This isn’t about any of that. This is about your workplace attitude, your approach and your lack of respect. After your behavior yesterday, I would have come in here today if you were an eighty-six-year-old man wearing a honey badger suit.”

One side of her mouth twitched. Only slightly, and he probably would have missed the movement if he wasn’t so intent on watching her, marveling at her composure.

“I don’t see how my attitude plays into this. My approach was honed through four years of military service, a civilian EMS-P certification, and a decade and a half of studying and practicing under the tutelage of a renowned medical expert. And as far as respect goes, I subscribe to the ‘respect is something you earn’ school of thought. And you being here right now and complaining about nonissues isn’t helping on that front.”

“Your résumé already got you this job, Ms. Mowak. You don’t need to recite it for me, and the fact that you are speaks to your insecurity, which I’m guessing has something to do with your attitude. Your approach is my concern because I have to work with you. And the respect I’m talking about is the respect you should innately have toward a fellow medical professional whose job and reputation you put on the line because you chose to smear mud all over a patient.”

“It’s clay.” Her tone was flat, but her shapely black brows arched higher and Tag had no idea what that look was supposed to convey.

Waving a hand, he said, “Whatever. Since we’re sharing our qualifications, I am going to give you a piece of advice based on my eighteen years of experience as an EMS-P, my fifteen years as a volunteer firefighter, and a lifetime as both a friend and a big brother. If you don’t want people to notice your age, don’t draw attention to it.”

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

“That’s true. But I—” Biting back the words he’d been about to say—I’m not used to people questioning my skills—he went with “I shouldn’t have. For that, I apologize.”

A head tip told him she acknowledged the mea culpa.

Exhaling, he checked the time on his watch. This meeting had been an epic fail, and he had no hope of turning it around at this point. He’d promised his sister Hannah he’d give her a hand with some repairs up at the ski resort this morning before his flight to Anchorage at noon. He needed to wrap this up.

“For now, I’m going to quit wasting both our time. Maybe we should meet with Dr. Ramsey and talk about our professional expectations?”

“That would be fine.”

“Good. I’ll set it up.”

* * *

ALLY STARED AFTER HIM. At least he’d suggested the meeting with Flynn and not Dr. Boyd. She had no more time than that to dwell on it, though, because the phone on her desk let out a buzz. She answered it and proceeded to deal with the first call for the job she’d actually been hired to do. She tackled paperwork and fielded calls until lunchtime, when she placed one of her own to Louis’s mom, her aunt Gina, who Ally knew was sitting vigil in his room.

Quinn was there, too, she learned, so she headed to the hospital’s cafeteria and ordered cheeseburgers, fries and strawberry shakes for them all. In the room, she was heartened to see Louis already sitting up, laughing and chatting with Quinn. At least she’d made the right call regarding his injuries.

When her break was over, she said goodbye to her family and promised to stop by again when she could. The afternoon was spent visiting patients and their families, assessing their needs and making notes about any questions or concerns they had regarding hospital, hospice or at-home health care.

The interaction with patients revived her, reminding her why she wanted this job. Back at her office, she immediately began cataloging the patients’ needs while they were fresh in her mind. One was ready for palliative care, so she called the hospice and set up a meeting for the patient and her family.

The remainder of her day consisted of more phone calls, emails, strategizing, and plotting out her to-do list and schedule for the next week. Just past six, a knock sounded on her door and relief flooded through her when she discovered this one had a much friendlier form attached to it than the morning’s.

“Flynn, hi.”

A dimpled grin transformed the young doctor’s already handsome face into a combination of sweet and gorgeous. Too bad she thought of him like family. With no siblings of her own, he was as close to a big brother as she could imagine. Their grandfathers were friends, so Ally and Flynn had known each other since childhood.

Flynn’s grandfather—“Doc,” as he was more commonly known in Rankins—had always welcomed her grandfather’s advice as a Native healer and doctor. Likewise, Abe had never had a problem calling on Doc when modern medicine was needed. A friendship had sprung up early in both of their respective careers, one based on mutual respect.

An image of Tag James flashed into her mind, embarrassment rushing through her because she realized in that moment that he’d been right about one thing: she’d been so concerned about his respecting her that she hadn’t shown him the respect he deserved.

Lowering himself into the chair Tag James had occupied that morning, Flynn said, “Hey. Good job with Dr. Boyd.”

“Thank you. I only wish all of my confrontations today could have gone as smoothly.”

Eyebrows a shade darker than his seal-brown hair darted up on his forehead. “Uh-oh. What else?”

“Among other affronts, I was told I need to work on my attitude.”

Scrunching his features into a grimace, he said, “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Not by a patient, though?”

“Of course not! It was a colleague. Although, in thinking about it now, I may have deserved part of it.”