The Dashing Doc Next Door

“Is that really black pepper you spread over the area?”

“It is. I often tell people to spread it over their pets’ graves to repel varmints from trying to dig them up. It should work to thwart Humph from another escape, too.” As the sunshine lit flecks of gold in her brown eyes, Gage felt something akin to hunger pangs grip his stomach. “At the risk of embarrassing you... You look particularly beautiful this morning.”

After another of those cautious pauses that Gage was starting to recognize, Brooke’s shimmering lips curved into a private smile. “A woman who can’t accept a compliment is out of her mind. Thank you.” She reached for the door handle. “I do have to hurry, though. Kiki has a dental appointment in an hour.”

“Then I guess I’ll see you later. What are you doing for dinner?” It was foolish to ask, since he could easily be dealing with emergency farm calls by then, but he couldn’t resist.

“I’ll grab some takeout and go keep Aunt Marsha company as she has her supper.”

The look she gave him from under her long eyelashes added a warning not to pursue what he was intent on achieving. Nevertheless, he needed for her to know that he was determined, too. “What about a glass of wine afterward?”

“By then I’ll be totally drained and my feet will be killing me. The only thing I’ll want to do is kick off these shoes, have a soothing shower and collapse in bed.”

Gage glanced down at the cork-and-leather platform sandals that added a good three inches or so to her height. “Very pretty, but why on earth don’t you wear something—?”

“More sensible?” Brooke offered when he abruptly edited himself.

“I would have tried for ‘less dangerous.’”

“Very diplomatic. But I’ve worn heels since I was in junior high. Couldn’t wait for my first pair. When you’re practically the runt in the entire school, you don’t mind taking a few risks to fit in better.”

Gage suspected that she would always stand out regardless, and guessed that any grief she took was more about jealousy than her petite size. “I guess in your male-dominated profession, you liked being taller because the guys tried to make you feel insecure even without the height disadvantage?” When she offered a one-shouldered shrug that suggested it was a moot point, he added, “Well, with or without the extra inches, I think you’re—”

“I really have to go.”

“Adorable.” Gage grinned as she cast a self-conscious look at the pickup truck now turning into the parking lot as though the driver could read lips. “Sue me. I’ve seen you smile. You have dimples that should be seen—” and kissed frequently “—and when you’re not stressing over your aunt, the shop or Humphrey, those brown eyes make me feel like a kid facing his first fudge-caramel sundae.”

“Oh, Lord.” Pressing her lips together to repress a smile, Brooke quickly climbed into her BMW. “Have a good day, Doc.”

“Gage. Give me that at least. You know I’m going to go back inside to deal with all kinds of abuse from those guys.” He nodded his head toward the windows where everyone was unabashedly watching.

She keyed the ignition, and, once the engine sprang to life, Brooke put the sports car into Reverse. Just after she shifted into Forward, she wiggled her fingers at him and drove away.

Waving to Carter Spears as Spears drove around to the back where he would be picking up the family pet—a potbellied pig—that had survived eating one of Carter’s leather work gloves, Gage returned inside. After pausing at the surreal silence that greeted him, he suddenly faced five sets of wiggling fingers waving at him.

Knowing it would be worse if he said anything, he just nodded his acceptance of their ribbing. In his opinion, he’d made progress—minimal, but in the right direction. Brooke liked him. More than she wanted to. He could feed off that all day.

Pete Ogilvie started the Greek chorus of commentary. “So that’s the way of things, eh? You’d better work fast because you’ve got your sights on a city girl, my friend. She’s not going to hang around these parts a day longer than she has to.”

“My back hurts just thinking about all the bending you’ll have to do to kiss the little thing,” Stan Walsh groused.

Jerry and Warren hooted and laughed, and Jerry said, “Listen to him. The guy on the most medications is having sympathy pains over your love life, Doc.”

“My money is on you, son,” Warren said, only to scowl at Jerry. “What are you trying to do, get us thrown out of here, too?”

“What do you think, Humph?” Gage asked, crouching to give the basset hound another affectionate rubbing. The dog was visibly curious as to what was going on. “You’re one of the guys now. We have to support each other.”

As though understanding, the dog rolled on to his back and offered his belly for scratching.

“That’s exactly what I think.” Chuckling, Gage obliged the dog. “Everybody has his—or her—soft spot. It’ll be your job to help me find hers.”

Chapter Two

“Give him a few more days. He’ll win you over.”

Brooke did a double take when her aunt said those words. Yes, she had just been complaining about Humphrey trying to block her from leaving him when she’d dropped him off at the house a little while ago, but then her thoughts had inevitably veered to Gage. As luck would have it, he had been called out on an emergency this evening when she’d gone to pick up Humphrey from the clinic, and she’d been surprised at how disappointed she’d felt that he wasn’t around.

“What? Oh.” Embarrassed, Brooke self-consciously fussed with a strand of hair that had worked free during the day and now tickled her neck. “It’s not that I don’t think he’s a good dog,” she assured her aunt. “It’s just that he’s confused by what’s going on, and, at his age, he probably doesn’t like his routine being upset. Sometimes I suspect that he thinks I’m the cause of it all.”

“Nonsense,” Marsha replied with a genteel wave of her hand. “It is what it is—he’s old. Wait until you’re our age. You’ll have your share of confused and cranky moments, too.”

Brooke shook her head. “You’re never cranky.”

That won her a wry laugh from her aunt. “Bless you for that, but you’re wrong. Just ask the nurses who were on duty today. As for Humphrey, I know this is a terrible inconvenience for you, sweetheart—”

“Don’t even think that. I’m relieved to be able to be here for you. I just wish—” As she filled the water pitcher to refresh the low reservoir in one of the flower arrangements filling the room, Brooke tried to think of something that her aunt would like to hear. “—I wish I’d interacted more with Humphrey during my other visits, so I wouldn’t feel like such a stranger to him, and an incompetent one at that.”

“Silly, you could never be that, and it’s not your fault that you have your own interests that don’t include pets.” Marsha glanced out the window, her expression slightly pensive. “It’s just as well—your father would never have allowed you to have a dog or kitten in the house, and I wouldn’t have been able to bear it if you’d ached for one.” Forcing a bright smile, she changed the subject. “Listen to this. Today I managed to sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed without help from the nurse. I wasn’t sure I would make it—it hurt like blazes—and I was utterly exhausted afterward, but proud of myself.”

“That’s terrific!” However, Brooke couldn’t help but worry, too. She thought her aunt looked quite drained—dear as ever, even with her short, permed, silver hair a bit mussed, and wearing her old-fashioned bed jacket over her hospital gown—but if trying too much too soon was the reason, how could that be a good idea? Grateful that they had the room to themselves, she spoke frankly. “Is that what your therapist wanted, Aunt Marsha?”

The older woman patted the bed opposite from the table that bore her food tray. “You spoke with the surgeon. This was an extremely invasive procedure, and my muscles and tendons are as sore as everything else. Stop fretting and come sit down. You’re making me dizzy with all of your puttering and fussing. Have a bit to eat. I noticed that you didn’t bring anything tonight, and there’s way too much here for one person.”

Although she had little appetite herself, Brooke did sit down. All that was on the dinner plate was a broiled chicken leg and thigh, a dab of sautéed spinach, a scoop of wild rice and a green salad. Even the bran muffin on the side was small, and the bowl of strawberry Jell-O wouldn’t keep a toddler happy for more than a minute or two. Hardly the excess Marsha suggested.

Her aunt was still a pretty woman, despite the dark shadows that remained under her eyes. Her slender face showed few wrinkles for a woman who loved spending her free time away working in her yard. They shared the same large, doe-shaped brown eyes and petite build—as had Brooke’s mother. Brooke often wondered if this was what her mother would be starting to look like if she’d lived. Unfortunately, Marsha had long been taking her health for granted, and her doctor had cited concern over her low blood pressure and anemia, as much as the osteoporosis.

“Don’t worry about me. You’re supposed to build up your blood as well as your strength,” Brooke said, and set to work opening the silverware packet, then pulled off the foil lid on the juice cup. “Take a sip of this apple juice. I’ll bet you haven’t taken enough liquids today to help dissolve all of those vitamins and medications they’re giving you.”

“Please. The other half of my exercise is reaching for the call button to get a nurse in to empty my bag,” her aunt muttered. “At any rate, I don’t like juice, you know that. Too icky sweet. If I promise to drink some water, will you pour this down the sink?”

“Fair enough.” Once Brooke returned, she said, “I was so eager to tell you about how good business was at the shop today that I forgot to tell you that I met the older gentlemen who spend the day at Gage’s clinic. They all asked about you and sent their best.”

“How sweet. They can be such a bunch of characters.” Marsha halfheartedly broke off a bit of muffin and nibbled on it. “Isn’t it kind of Gage to let them roost there? That’s how I think of them—a motley group of roosters trying to still strut their stuff.”

“Having come from a rather large family, I guess Gage misses having more people around,” Brooke replied without thinking. Belatedly intercepting her aunt’s look of amusement and unabashed satisfaction, she quickly regretted the comment.

“You two have been visiting more,” Marsha said with a satisfied nod.

“Not really. There’s been no time.”

Looking unconvinced, her aunt pointed out, “You’ve been sharing details about family.”

Brooke took great pains in cutting chicken off the bone. “I felt I had to make polite conversation while walking through the neighborhood with him to find Humphrey. It would have been rude not to, what with him donating his time and showing so much interest in how we’re doing.”

“Yes, it would, and I’m proud of you,” Marsha replied. “Because, although I adore you, you can be a bit—”

Brooke’s breath all but locked in her throat. “A bit what?” Her aunt was never anything but complimentary and supportive. Was she about to get criticized?