The Dashing Doc Next Door

Sensitive to his increasingly searching gaze, Brooke reached for the doorknob, hoping he would take the hint. “Thank you again, and for so much, Doc. Gage,” she amended at his gently reproachful look.

“You are more than welcome. It was good to spend a little while with my favorite neighbor’s favorite niece instead of settling for a wave as we dash for our vehicles in the morning.”

They had been leaving earlier than everyone else in the neighborhood. “Yes, it was. But it’s only niece. I was the sole yield from my parents’ short but loving marriage.”

“Nicely put and poetic for a math head.” At her grimace, he added, “Did you think that if your aunt has been bragging about you that she’d leave out how smart you are?”

“I guess not. It’s a wonder that she hasn’t set me up with an account on some online-dating site.”

Gage shook his head. “She wouldn’t do that. She’s too protective of you. Do you miss not having any siblings?”

“Sometimes. But it was nice having all of the attention, too. You?”

“Two sisters and three brothers. Privacy was the challenge in our house, since I was number five out of six kids. Fortunately, I lack most ingredients required to be a type A personality.”

“I can’t imagine... I mean, having that many siblings.” Along with being an only child, she’d spent the second half of her childhood with little time for fun or friendships, what with her father directing her extracurricular activities as much as her school focus. Faced with the reality that he would have only one child, he had been a veritable Tiger Mom, as hands-on as though he’d been managing a lab project, determined to make her the best at what he directed her toward. Only since having her job liquidated when proprietary trading won the government’s evil eye did it strike her that focusing so determinedly on networking might have served a purpose, but it had left her emotionally vacant compared to what family and friendship provided. Experience had also taught her sobering lessons on the difference between friends and acquaintances.

“Are you okay?”

Pulled back to the present, Brooke saw that Gage was studying her with unusual intensity, despite the hint of a smile curving his inviting lips. That smile was a ruse, she realized. It was meant to hide how serious he’d suddenly become. Well, she didn’t need all that magnetism directed at her.

“Fine,” she assured him, flashing him an equally deceptive but brighter smile. “You just made me realize that I’d promised to report on Aunt Marsha’s condition to my father, which is going to be a challenge since I’m not even sure what time zone he’s in.”

“He sounds like one of the original wheeler-dealers.”

How much of that side of their lives had Aunt Marsha shared? “He’s an unapologetic workaholic.” It was on the tip of her tongue to add with no small self-deprecation, “And I’m afraid this acorn didn’t fall far from the tree.” It was only the cold chill that ran through her—a chill that belied the sultry night’s warmth—that had her editing herself in the last second. Instead, she whispered in entreaty, “I really need to get inside.”

Gage took a halfhearted step backward. “Don’t hesitate to holler if you need my Sherlock services again.”

With a wave, Brooke hurried inside and, upon closing the door, she quickly twisted the wand to shut the miniblinds. Only then did she exhale her relief. What on earth was she doing almost making such admissions to a near stranger? Had she been subjected to some version of dog psychiatry, hypnotism or what? She glanced over her shoulder, taking in Humphrey’s resigned look.

“Please don’t put me in this position again. I don’t have the time, understand? Not for you or him. You’re both sweethearts—I get it—but I’m not in the market for anything like that, so behave!”

* * *

By seven forty-five Wednesday morning, Gage was up front at Sweet Springs Animal Clinic enjoying a rare extra cup of coffee with the old-timers and Roy before the early-bird clients arrived to drop off a beloved pet for some procedure, or were overeager to pick one up after an overnight stay. However, the first person to pull in was Brooke Bellamy.

As the others began noticing her flashy, metallic-silver BMW convertible that shouted her previous professional success, a rush of pleasure swept through him. So, he thought, she’d not only approached Marsha about his suggestion, his sweetheart of a neighbor had given her blessing. He would have to send Marsha a bouquet in gratitude for assisting him in gaining more access to her lovely niece.

“Be still, my heart...” drawled sixty-six-year-old Jerry Platt, who sat closest to the window. Retired from the air force and divorced, he was considered the “kid” in the group and frequently taunted the others with tales of his romantic escapades—true or not. “Say, isn’t that Marsha Newman’s niece? Wow.... She grew up to be a pretty little thing.”

“Looks a lot like her aunt,” Stan Walsh replied. Stan was sixty-nine and an old navy man turned sheet-metal fabricator. He’d passed his business over to his son earlier in the year following the death of his wife. “Every bit the lady, too, from what I hear, so behave, Platt.”

“Did she ever marry?” Pete Ogilvie asked, craning his head to watch as Brooke went around to the passenger door to let Humphrey out. The eighty-two-year-old ex-marine and widower was the oldest in the group and still looked the part of the rancher he’d been. “What is she now? Twenty-nine? Thirty? Back in my day, a girl would be afraid to be called an old maid if she hadn’t hooked a guy by then. Good for her, I say. You have to be pretty successful to afford wheels like that. What’s to want in today’s crop of guys anyway? Present company excluded, Doc,” he quickly added.

“No offense taken,” Gage replied, although he did plan to keep a close eye on that wily fox Jerry Platt.

Having waited patiently for his turn to speak, Warren Atwood said, “Back in your day, telephone operators sat in front of circuit boards, you old dinosaur.” The intellectual seventy-year-old had gone on from the U.S. Army to being the D.A. of Cherokee County. His wife was at the community’s nursing home in the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s. It was only his closest friends who knew what a toll that was taking on him.

“All right, you guys,” Roy Quinn said, as Gage put down his mug to go welcome Brooke. “Behave yourselves for a minute. She’s not going to be as used to your nonsense as we are.”

Gage barely heard him as he pushed through the two sets of doors. Reaching the fresh air, he saw Brooke look up and give him a ready-or-not shrug and smile. She looked as fresh as the posies she worked with in her three-quarter-sleeve teal silk top and matching slacks. The gold earrings and necklace added another layer of elegance. With her blond hair deftly swept up into an artful knot, he knew that, inside, jaws were slack with admiration. She did powerful things to him, too.

“Good to see you.” The words felt slow and heavy to his ears, but then his tongue felt as if someone had poured concrete in his mouth.

“You, too,” Brooke replied with visible relief. “I was half afraid last night’s offer was sheer politeness on your part. As it happened, I had to drop off some papers at the hospital this morning, and when I peeked in on my aunt she was wide-awake, and we had a quick chat.” As Gage held the door for her, she led Humphrey inside the green steel building.

“So she gave her blessing?” It fascinated Gage that as her nerves grew more visible, his eased. He even touched the small of her back, unable to resist stealing some tiny physical contact for private savoring later.

“Blessing?” Stan asked from across the room, his hand to his ear. His years on an aircraft carrier and in a sheet metal shop had all but destroyed his hearing. “Did they get engaged? I thought she just got back in town?”

“Shut up, you fool,” Pete replied, swatting at his arm with the editorial section of the Tyler Morning News. “What kind of eavesdropper are you?”

“My hearing-aid battery must be giving out.”

Brooke sent the men a bemused glance, then said to Gage, “She did—and said to tell you that she’ll make you her renowned apple crumble as soon as she gets back on her feet.”

Gage uttered a throaty groan of pleasure, then crouched to pet the basset hound, who was wagging his tail cautiously, not sure if this was an official visit or what. “Relax, Humph. You’re about to be spoiled rotten, just like when you’re at the flower shop.”

He unclipped the lead from the dog’s collar, after which Humphrey shook his whole body, clearly relishing the freedom in this, of all places. Brooke, on the other hand, looked anything but reassured.

“You’re certain it’s going to be okay for him to run free like that?” She looked unconvinced as she rolled up the blue nylon leash around her hand.

Gage rose, knowing they had precious few minutes left—and not even private ones—before the parking lot started to fill. He wanted to tell her that he liked her hair up. It showed off her slender neck so much that his fingers itched to caress the baby-fine hair there and her even finer skin. She was exceedingly fair for this time of year, but on her the look worked. However, the sum of all of her delicate parts didn’t fool him: inside that petite body was a backbone of pure steel and a strong will to match it. The irony was that just made her all the more irresistible.

“We’ll make sure he doesn’t get into anything he shouldn’t—nor goes outside without supervision.” Gage then addressed the others. “Everybody, this is Brooke, my neighbor—although you probably already know that.”

“We do,” Jerry said, as the others waved and called greetings. “How’s Marsha, darlin’?”

“Still in a lot of pain from the surgery. Thank you for asking. But she’s determined not to depend long on that walker they’re forcing her to use.”

“She’s a fighter. Give her our best.”

“I will.” Brooke turned back to Gage, worry creasing the smooth skin between her finely arching tawny eyebrows. “As I drove here, it hit me. We close at the same time, but occasionally I’ll have to wait on Charles—our delivery man—to return the store’s van. Or you may have to leave on a call. How do we work this?”

Acutely aware of all eyes on him, Gage shrugged to show as little concern as possible. “If you’re running late, give me a call, and if I have to leave for an emergency, Roy can wait for you, can’t you?” he asked him.

“Sure, boss.” Roy expanded on his answer directly to Brooke. “We tend to hang around after hours with whomever stops by. Not to worry, Ms. Bellamy. From here on, Humph will be treated as family.”

Although looking far more confident about the arrangement, Brooke remained poised and formal as she stepped to the counter and offered her hand. “That’s very kind, since I feel as though I’m taking advantage. You’re Roy? Please call me Brooke.”

When Roy’s brown eyes all but glazed over under the full effect of her warm smile, Gage took hold of Brooke’s elbow. “I’ll walk you out.”

He ignored the feeling of daggers pricking at his back as they exited the building, but he didn’t care. A familiar truck was coming down the service road and he knew it was heading here. Another hectic day was about to commence, and he wanted these last precious seconds with her to be his alone.

“I saw that you beat me to filling the hole Humphrey dug last night,” Brooke said, pausing at the driver’s door. “You’re being too good to me.”

“It didn’t take more than a minute. I was concerned that you might forget and he would take advantage.”