Charlotte Maclay - Montana Daddy

Giving Rory a knowing grin, Eric waved off his comment. “I get the picture. You’re still hot for her.”

“Leave it alone, White Eyes.”

“Whatever you say, Bird Brain.”

The exchange of their youthful nicknames recalled the years they’d grown up together at the Double O Ranch. Eric, as the fairest of the three adopted brothers, had been dubbed White Eyes. Rory was tagged with Bird Brain after his Indian naming ceremony; his brothers took the position that Swift Eagle was too classy for him. Walker, the eldest of the three, picked up the name of Sharp Shooter—Sharpy for short—after he’d accidentally shot himself in the leg while showing off with their father’s rifle.

How any of them had survived adolescence still amazed Rory, and was due entirely to the patience and wisdom of the late Oliver Oakes, their adoptive father.

“Tell you what,” Eric said. “I’ll get things started here by calling the preacher, and you go talk to the doc. See what kind of supplies she has on hand, what procedures she’ll be able to handle—”

“You can call the doc yourself. She can talk just fine. Nonstop, if complaining counts.”

“It’ll be faster if you talk to her. At least you’ll understand her medical jargon better than I can.”

That might be true, but Rory didn’t have any urge to see Kristi again so soon. Actually he did, but she’d made it pretty clear she wasn’t eager for him to drop by. It’d be better to give her a little time. Let her relax, get used to the idea of him living right across the street. Then maybe he could figure out why she’d been so torque-jawed with him.

All business now, Eric picked up the phone and started punching in numbers. “Come to think of it, ask Kristi to come to the meeting tonight. She can be the go-between for Doc.”

Rory considered arguing with his brother but he knew he’d lose. Eric could be darn determined when he chose to be, a trait that had nearly cost him a leg riding a rodeo bull.

Kristi had been determined, too. Set on having a career. In no hurry to marry and have a family.

In that regard they’d been in agreement.

More than once Rory had wondered if that had been a mistake.

“KRISTI! You’re going to kill yourself!”

Doc Justine’s scream and a loud thumping noise propelled Rory through the door to the clinic and into the front hallway.

He came to an abrupt halt and tipped his hat to the back of his head.

Kristi was sitting on her rump at the bottom of the stairway, a double-bed mattress curved on the stairs behind her. Her face was red, and she looked out of breath.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine. I was just showing Grandma the latest rage in Spokane—the wild mattress ride. Tons of fun.”

Rory’s lips twitched but he didn’t dare let loose with the laugh that threatened. “I’m sure it will sweep the nation in no time.” He reached down to help her up.

She managed without him. “You could have knocked, you know.”

“Yeah, but I would have missed the next winner of World’s Funniest Videos.”

She eyed him with a hostility that wasn’t entirely convincing, given the twinkle of humor he spotted in the depth of her baby blues. “Things got a little out of hand,” she admitted.

“I can see that. What were you trying to do?”

“Besides kill herself?” Justine asked from the couch in the living room.

Kristi ignored her grandmother. “Grandma can’t get up the stairs on her crutches. Her arms aren’t strong enough.”

“I told her I could manage,” the doc groused. “She wouldn’t believe me.”

“So I wanted to set up her bed downstairs,” Kristi continued. “Things didn’t go quite as I had expected.”

“You could have called me. I would have helped.”

“That’s what I said, too,” Justine said, loud enough to rattle the door on it hinges. “But she’s the most stubborn girl I’ve ever seen. Don’t know where she gets it. Not from my side of the family, you can be sure of that.”

Both Kristi and Rory shifted their attention to Justine and burst out laughing.

Rory regained his composure first but he hoped Kristi never would. She had the most wonderful laugh, light and airy like a songbird in flight yet filled with warmth and caring. He could go on listening forever.

“Tell you what,” he said when Kristi’s laughter subsided. “I’ll help you bring down and set up whatever you need.”

“No need for all the fussing,” Justine insisted. “I can sleep on one of the examining tables until I can get around on my own.”

“You’d probably fall off, Grandma, and break something else. Besides, I’ll be examining patients on those tables.”

Rory started. “You’re going to examine patients?”

She glanced at him, then looked away. “I’m a nurse practitioner. The whole idea of me coming here during Grandma’s recovery is so she can see patients, as needed. I’ll be doing exams under her supervision.”

Surprise and disappointment combined to make Rory blurt out, “You didn’t go to med school?” He’d been so darn sure, so confident she’d go the limit. Nothing would stand in the way of her goal of becoming a pediatrician.

She bristled, her spine straightening until she was her full five feet five inches tall, the top of her head barely coming to his chin. “Some of us have responsibilities, Mr. Oakes. We can’t always do what we want to do.”

Justine snorted. “He’s not ‘mister.’ He’s got a piece of paper that says he’s a doctor, though I sure as hell wouldn’t want him to treat me for a case of rabies.”

Kristi looked up at him, a mixture of sadness and admiration in her eyes. “Grandma mentioned a couple of years ago that you’d graduated,” she whispered.

“By the skin of my teeth and pretty well near the bottom of my class, but yeah, I got my license.”

A sheen of tears suddenly blurred Kristi’s vision, and she had to look away. She was so proud of Rory and so angry that he had achieved what he’d set out to accomplish when she hadn’t quite made the grade.

Her own fault, she reminded herself. A premed student should have been more careful about birth control. A dumb mistake, one that had cost her a medical school education and her dream of becoming a doctor. She’d opted for fewer years of training, switching her goal to nursing so she could be home more with her baby.

In all fairness, that same mistake had been her greatest blessing and biggest joy—her son. She’d give her life to protect Adam from harm. Which is why she’d left him home with her mother while she helped Doc Justine. She had no idea how Rory would react to learning at this late date that he had a son, and she didn’t intend to risk having Adam hurt.

Nor was she eager to race into the uncertain world of a custody battle across state lines. She had a friend in Spokane whose divorce left her flying her two young children to Arizona three times a year to be with their father. Her girlfriend spent the entire time the children were gone worrying about them.

Turning to resume wrestling with the mattress, Kristi ignored a twinge of conscience. Despite the fact Rory hadn’t returned her phone calls, and had apparently found another woman at college almost before Kristi had gotten back home, he did have a right to know about his son.

She would tell him. But not right now.

Squeezing partway up the stairs, Rory grabbed the opposite side of the mattress. “Where do you want the bed set up?”

“The living room,” Kristi said.

“No way,” Justine insisted, her hearing in far better condition than her ankle. “Everybody who comes in will gawk at me like I’m some sort of a freak. Plant me in the second exam room. We can only handle one patient at a time, not that I ever have more than that, anyway.”