Hot-Shot Doc, Secret Dad: A Single Dad Romance

“Thanks.”

“Until we can budget for putting chips in our cattle, we’ll have to manage like we always have.” Branding and fences seemed so far out of date. Jack was in his early forties and kept up with modern ranching trends. Truth was, Tiberius—Monty—Montgomery was old-school, and not the least bit interested in learning new techniques, or utilizing software and technology for running his ranch. The man still insisted on keeping handwritten bookkeeping ledgers, which Trevor would have to transfer to his own computer books when he got home.

“I’ll talk to Dad again about the cost to chip the cattle, and mention the long-term savings.”

“You do that. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

Trevor seriously doubted it.

The men smiled at each other and went their separate ways, leaving Trevor to his mind-boggling thoughts. He remembered the exact instant he’d realized Julie was a virgin, he’d stopped thrusting for a moment and looked at her. “Are you sure?” he’d asked. Though she’d grimaced, she’d bucked under his hips, urging him not to stop. He had been soon taken over by his desire; the fact they were having sex while lying in a foot of hay in a barn loft for her first time hadn’t registered. Nope, it was only after they’d snuggled up close afterwards, and he had smelled summer in her hair and sex on her skin, that he’d started to feel guilty. He’d been on the verge of bringing up the subject when two of her friends had called her name at the barn entrance, told her they were leaving and she’d better come with them. Julie had jumped up, thrown on her dress and underwear, then kissed him one last time and disappeared with her girlfriends. That was when their situation had started to sink in.

No, she wouldn’t see him again.

She hadn’t had a clue he’d be gone by Monday, yet he’d let her go, then lain there and stared through the cracks in the roof of the barn at the black summer sky, thinking he’d done something he shouldn’t have. Something he’d really enjoyed, but would regret. And he hadn’t even had the decency to see her home.

Well, at least she hadn’t lost her virginity in the back of the old beat-up car he’d been driving that summer, his brother’s hand-me-down. A barn loft had to be more romantic than that. Right?

He racked his brain and knew he’d used contraception, just as he had all through college. No girl had gotten pregnant … until Julie.

Zebulon galloped toward the barn, like a homing pigeon, obviously eager to get brushed and fed. Trevor dismounted his horse and pushed the nagging thought of Julie and that night out of his mind. He should have at least said goodbye to her. It was the decent thing to do. He should have called and told her he was sorry for taking her virginity, too. Yet he’d done neither. Instead he’d left town for med school and never looked back. Soon forgetting all about her and that night.

Until her name and credentials had come across his desk on a job application.

His long-overdue apology hadn’t been the least bit honorable. It had been obligatory and smarmy. What a heel he’d turned out to be.

Trevor walked the path to his home, the only place he’d ever lived, outside college and medical school, and gritted his teeth thinking it would be extra hard to hide his feelings from his father over dinner tonight. But he sure as hell would because this was one topic he did not want to bring up over one of Gretchen’s casseroles.

But at least by hiring Julie today, he had a chance to make up for taking advantage of her thirteen years ago. There might still be a chance to win back a thread of honor. To meet his son and become the father the kid deserved.

The thought scared the tar out of him.

The next morning Julie kept her word and arrived at the clinic fifteen minutes early, butterflies swarming through her insides and gathering in her stomach. Charlotte, the RN, was there to greet her. Late forties. Graying dull brown hair pulled back tight in a low ponytail. Stocky and average height, wearing a glaring white uniform. Julie surmised the woman loved being a nurse.

“So you’re our new RNP?” Charlotte shoved out a sturdy and rough hand for a shake. “Nice to meet you. Call me Lotte, like my friends. What do you say I give you a tour of the joint before you shadow Dr. Montgomery?”

Grateful for putting off facing Trevor for a second time, especially since she could barely sleep last night from thinking of him, Julie smiled. “I’d love to, thanks.”

Fifteen minutes later, having been shown how each examination room was set up, as well as the procedure room, where the medical supplies and ever-important linens were kept, Julie was escorted back to Trevor’s office.

“Good morning,” he said, looking intriguing and appealing with a day’s growth of beard. The vision nearly made her stop in her tracks. Then she noticed his wildeyed glance and understood how deeply she’d rocked his world yesterday.

Yeah, they both had things to deal with, and working together wouldn’t be easy.

Julie greeted him with a catch in her breath. Those flashing dark eyes were responsible. As well as the perfectly ironed classic Western shirt. Why did she have to notice?

She’d taken extra care to wear comfortable yet stylish clothes today. Black slacks with matching low-heeled leather boots, and an ice-blue thin sweater that her hazel eyes would surely pick up the color from. She’d pulled her hair back from her face, with a folded blue, patterned scarf tied at her neck under the hair that dusted her shoulders. It was either that or a dull old black headband, and she’d gone for color and California style. Not that she’d wanted to catch Trevor’s attention or anything.

These days, in LA, doctors and RNPs no longer wore white coats. She was interested to see if she’d be given one here since studies had shown lab coats carried germs instead of protecting doctors and patients from them.

Trevor motioned her over. “Let me show you the charting system.”

Julie didn’t want to get too close, but he used a small laptop computer to sign in on for their first patient. Sure enough, she had to get close enough to catch the scent of his soap and masculine aftershave and the effect was far too heady for this time of the morning. Fortunately, the young man’s information popped up, distracting her, and Trevor explained the various windows to use and entries she’d be required to make.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you do this until you feel ready.” He tossed her a friendly smile that put her on edge instead of comforting her. How would she handle the entire orientation at such close range? She needed to adjust her attitude and quick. If he could act detached and businesslike so could she.

Switching to all business, she armored herself with a professional disposition. Besides, Trevor seemed to have already forgotten yesterday’s news, and, even though it cut deep, Julie was grateful for the hiatus.

Trevor stood, laptop in hand, and headed for Exam Room One, where Donald Richardson, a twenty-seven-year-old type-1 diabetic ranch hand, waited. His chief complaint being nasal congestion for ten days and a headache for the past four to five.

After a friendly greeting and introduction of Julie to the patient, Trevor performed a quick examination of his nasal passages. Based on the examination, plus seeing a chart notation from Lotte, it seemed Donald’s temperature was elevated. Trevor told him it looked like he had a sinus infection.

“Take off your shirt so I can listen to your lungs,” Dr. Montgomery said.

Off came the shirt, and Trevor did not look pleased. “What’s this?” He pointed to a colorful shoulder tattoo.

Donald gave a sheepish glance. “My new tattoo.”

Trevor still didn’t look happy, and Julie assumed it was because of the possibility for complications that diabetics might face with body art.

“Did you bring your daily blood-sugar numbers?” Trevor wasn’t going to give the man a break just yet. He pushed some buttons on the laptop and brought up the most recent lab results, then took the small booklet Donald handed him. After glancing at the last couple weeks’ blood sugars, and sliding-scale insulin injections, he shared the info with Julie. She glanced at the computer screen and saw that Donald’s last A1C test was under 7 percent, which was a good thing.

“You know your kidney function has been borderline for a while now, and if you don’t keep your blood sugar under control, getting a tattoo can be dangerous.”

Donald hung his head, as if he was sick of hearing the diabetes story whenever he wanted to do or try something new. “I’ve been keeping it clean and there isn’t any sign of infection.”

“And that’s a good thing. But would you do me a favor, and next time you decide to get a tattoo, or body piercing or anything invasive, would you let me run some lab tests first? The last thing you need is to put your life in danger. If your blood sugar is high, a tattoo can be a playground for bacteria. That bacteria can invade your body and cause all kinds of trouble. Which is exactly what you don’t need.”

“I’ve been doing pretty good with the blood sugars.”

“I can see that. I’m just playing the devil’s advocate.”

From Julie’s assessment, Donald kept his weight under control and looked healthy. But the outside package didn’t always reflect the microscopic goings-on inside the body.

“I understand. You’re just looking out for me.”

“As long as we understand each other.”

“Okay. I promise. But, really, isn’t she a beaut?” Donald nodded at the tropical-inspired tattoo. “Whenever it’s colder than the North Pole up here, I’m going to look at this picture and dream about being in Hawaii.”

Trevor smiled. “That’s another place you’d have to work extra hard to keep your sugars balanced. Hot sticky weather is a playground—”

“—for bacteria. I get it, Doc.”

They exchanged a strained smile, and Julie fought to keep hers to herself.

“Well, the prescription I’m writing for the sinus infection should help, in case this tattoo springs an infection.” He wrote it out, tore it off, and handed it to the younger man. “If you notice any pain, swelling, redness, warmth, streaks or pus on or near that tattoo you let me know immediately.”

“I will, Dr. Montgomery, I promise,” Donald said as he buttoned up his shirt.