Small-Town Redemption

“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.

Charlotte stopped outside exam room 8. “It’s tough,” she said, nodding in what she hoped was a commiserative way and not in a way that made her look as if she was having a seizure. “I recently went through it when I bought my house. Luckily, I found a great place over on River Road.”

“River Road...by the big steel bridge?”

Shady Grove, nestled along the winding Monongahela River, had two main bridges separating the west and east sides of town; a steel one north of the highway, and an ornate wooden structure near Washington Square park. “It’s about a mile from it, yes.”

He nodded at Dr. Saleh as she walked by. “That seems like a nice area.”

“It is. I love it. It’s not too far from the hospital, but the houses are spread out so there’s plenty of room for nice-sized yards.” Even if buying her house had eaten into her savings. But oh, well. Some things, such as sticking to her five-year plan, were worth a little sacrifice.

She was still on track. Even if some of the players in her game had changed.

And this player didn’t seem as clueless as James had been. Yay for her. While having a simple conversation at work didn’t quite compare to Justin actively pursuing her, he had initiated said conversation. He was also smiling at her. Interested in what she had to say.

Possibly even interested in her.

“If I see any houses in my neighborhood,” she said, “I’ll be sure to let you know.”

His smile widened. “I’d appreciate it.”

Appreciated it, but not enough for him to give her his cell phone number so she could get a hold of him easily.

For once, why couldn’t a man she found attractive take the lead instead of leaving it up to her to do everything? If she was better at flirting, this wouldn’t be so difficult. She’d drop a few hints and let Justin take it from there. But she’d never developed the art of the come-on, had always felt fake and foolish trying to be coquettish and seductive.

Proof of which was when she’d tried using her feminine wiles—as they were—on sexy Kane Bartasavich.

“Good luck with the house hunting,” she said, keeping her friendly, but not too friendly, smile in place, and her tone light. She knocked on the patient’s door, then went in, proud of herself for a job well done.

She hadn’t pushed. Hadn’t made the same mistakes she had with James, trying to rush a relationship. The old Charlotte would have tried to set up a date and time for her to show him the neighborhood, offering to cook him a homemade meal afterward.

But the new and improved Charlotte knew better. This time she was going to rein in her impatience and take things slow. Let things grow organically between her and the man she wanted.

Though she wasn’t above using a bit of fertilizer if need be.

She still had her plan: to be married by the time she was twenty-seven, start having kids when she turned thirty and raise those adorable children in her house by the river.

No, the plan hadn’t changed, but she’d had to adjust certain areas of it. James wasn’t the man for her. They hadn’t had enough in common, not nearly enough for a lifetime of marital bliss. She’d wondered about it all those months ago, had worried over it, but had brushed aside her concerns about their stilted conversations, the long, drawn-out pauses where neither seemed to know what to say. The dreaded discussions about the weather.

Whereas she and Justin were well-suited. He understood the demands of the medical profession, the long hours, difficult cases and how stressful it was caring for the ill. How hard it was to lose a patient.

She and Justin were meant to be together. Of that she was certain.