Beth Andrews - Small-Town Redemption

“Dr. Louk?” she asked, proud she sounded casual and barely curious.

Leo lifted a shoulder, not giving her any info about the new physician, such as which room he’d taken the patient to so she could oh-so-casually walk past. After she’d checked her hair and makeup, of course.

“You hear about James and Sadie taking off next weekend?” Leo asked.

Nodding, Char unwrapped the bar, bit into it and wanted to spit the chalky, faux-chocolate thing right back out. “Sadie’s really looking forward to it,” she said around her mouthful.

She swallowed. Considered taking another bite, but no one should ever be that hungry.

“You think it’s a good idea?”

Char tucked the bar into the pocket of her scrubs. “They’re going to a bed-and-breakfast outside of DC. Not traveling to some politically unstable hot spot overseas.”

“No, I mean...” He stepped farther into the room and looked around. She looked, too, but the room was still empty. “Them getting married.”

Charlotte went absolutely still. She laid a hand over her chest to make sure her heart still beat. “Sadie and James are eloping? Oh, she is so dead. The only question is, who’ll kill her first? Your mom or mine?”

“They’re not eloping. James would never do something that spontaneous.”

“Then what—”

“He’s going to propose to her.”

“Did he tell you?” Char asked, for some reason matching Leo’s scandalized whisper with one of her own.

He nodded. “Last night.”

Well, what do you know? James was going to ask Sadie to marry him.

It stung. Just a little. Enough to remind Char that not long ago, she’d dreamed of James getting down on bended knee in front of her. But mostly she was happy for her sister. Really, truly happy.

She and Sadie had made up. It hadn’t been easy or quick, but they were once again as close as they had been before their horrible fight. Closer—both figuratively and literally—now that Sadie lived in Shady Grove instead of traipsing around the country. It was impossible to stay mad at Sadie and, as much as it pained Char to admit it, she had, perhaps, gone a bit overboard with her crush on James.

“That’s so great,” Charlotte said, her smile widening as she imagined her sister’s surprise. Her happiness.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“You don’t think they should get married?”

“I just don’t see why they want to rush into anything.”

“They’re both thirty-three and have known each other since they were kids. I’d hardly call that rushing.”

Leo’s radio went off and he checked it as he said, “You ask me, it’s always too soon to commit to being with one person the rest of your life.”

“That’s about the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” Charlotte faux-gushed. “I hadn’t realized you had such a deep, emotional side. You’re just a big romantic, aren’t you?”

He sent her another grin, this one more devastating than the last. Seriously, if she was made of weaker stuff, she might be swooning about now. “I have plenty of emotions,” he assured her. “And I’m all for commitment—for other people. Me? I like to have options. Lots and lots of options.” He sent her a sharp salute. “See ya later, gorgeous.”

Thank God she hadn’t fallen for him, Char thought as Leo left. It’d been bad enough making that mistake with someone like James, a good guy who’d let her down as gently as possible. Sure, Leo would’ve been kind. He wasn’t a jerk. Just careless with the hearts he held in the palm of his hand.

But women who fell for men like him—men who kept their options open, their bed partners varied and a tight grip on their single status—were only asking for heartbreak.

And she liked her heart in one piece, thanks all the same.

After rinsing out her coffee cup, she went out to triage, picked up a folder and opened it.

“Hello, Charlotte.”

The papers fell from her suddenly clumsy fingers. She picked them up, swallowed, then turned. “Hello, Doctor.”

She winced. Shoot. What was supposed to be a friendly, casual greeting had been more of a squeak.

“Please,” he said with an easy grin. “Call me Justin.”

Some doctors—mostly of the younger generation—preferred to be addressed by their given names, though she’d never do so in front of a patient.

“All right. Justin.” And that was just a bit too dreamy. If she wasn’t careful, he’d think she was one of the many, many nurses—along with a few female doctors and one gay anesthesiologist—who were infatuated with him.

Okay, so she was infatuated. She was living and breathing, wasn’t she? And he looked like a young Nathan Fillion, had a runner’s long, lean body and spoke with the New England accent of a Kennedy. He was also an excellent doctor, passionate about helping people and dedicated to his profession. His patients loved him. His coworkers liked and respected him.

He’d moved to Shady Grove after his residency in Philly so he could be closer to his older sister and her family in Pittsburgh. He’d quickly become a part of the community, volunteering his time at the local free clinic, sitting on the boards of several charitable organizations.

He was everything, absolutely everything, she’d ever wanted in a husband. They were going to make such a perfect couple.

She hoped it didn’t take him too long before he figured that out as well.

“Dr. Louk,” Regina, the triage nurse, said from behind the counter—not sounding the least bit mouse-ish, damn her, “I made some of those oatmeal cookies you like so much.” She leaned forward, grinned conspiratorially. “I hid a dozen just for you in the cabinet above the microwave.”

Char had to cough to hide a snort. Cookies. Rookie mistake. She’d made cookies for James and it hadn’t done her any good.

“Thank you,” Justin said, as polite as always. “I’d love one, but I’ll have to leave the rest in the break room.” He glanced at Char. “I’m training for a half marathon and I’ve never been good at resisting temptation.”

Ducking her head to scan the chart of the ten-year-old girl who’d come in with stomach pains—and to possibly hide a small, satisfied smile—Char walked away. If she were a better person, she’d feel bad for her coworker. And while she liked Regina, and didn’t wish her any ill will, she couldn’t deny how happy she was the good doctor was going to stay far away from the pretty brunette’s cookies.

Even better, she’d learned something new about Justin. He, too, was a runner.

Could they be any more perfect for each other?

“Charlotte,” Justin called as he caught up with her. “I wanted to thank you again for recommending a real estate agent.”

“You’re welcome. How’s the house hunting going?”

He gave a rueful shake of his head. “Not well. I’m looking for something smaller than what she’s shown me so far.”

“When she looks at you, she probably sees little dollar signs floating around your head.” He stared at her blankly. “Because you’re a doctor,” Char explained. “She might be hoping you have money to burn and want something huge and obnoxious with a big enough commission for her to retire on.”

He nodded sagely. “I wondered why she was so insistent on showing me that six-bedroom mansion on the outskirts of town. I guess I’m going to have to break it to her that until I’ve paid off my college—and med school—loans, I won’t be able to afford anything bigger than a one-story, two-bedroom house.”

He’d put himself through both college and med school, another point in his favor. No, she hadn’t done the same, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate a man who was financially prudent.

Besides, if her parents hadn’t paid her tuition, she wouldn’t have been able to afford the down payment on her house.