Her Maverick M.d.

“I know.” Tucker looked relieved.

“Thank you,” his mom said, helping her son off the exam table.

“You’re welcome. See you, buddy.”

Tucker looked up at him. “You’re a pretty good doctor.”

“You’re a pretty good patient.”

Dawn opened the door and said to the mom, “When you check out up front, Brandy will make a follow-up appointment. Remind her to give you the sheet with instructions on how to deal with the stitches.”

“Will do.”

After mother and son walked out Dawn started cleaning up the room, though she still wouldn’t look at him. This was as good a time as any to say what was on his mind.

“Dawn, I’d like to talk to you.” He slid his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat.

“All right.”

That was the appropriate response but the stubborn look in her eyes and the step back she took clearly reflected her attitude.

There was no point in beating around the bush. “You obviously have a problem with me.”

“What makes you say that?”

At least she didn’t flat out deny it. “You’re exhibiting all the symptoms. Refusing to call me by my first name. Avoiding me when possible. Remaining professional but cool.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“Technically there’s not. But with Emmet and everyone else on staff here at the clinic you’re warm and friendly. I’m the only one you treat differently.”

“Do you have a problem with my work?” she asked.

“No. You’re an excellent nurse.”

“Then I’m not sure what to say.”

That she liked him. Thought he wasn’t bad looking. Maybe she was even a little bit attracted to him. Anything but this robotic Stepford-nurse routine.

“Look, you and I both know that working as closely together as we do, things flow more smoothly if staff gets along and has each other’s back.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” she said emphatically.

That was the first time she’d shown any real spirit to him since the day he’d walked into the clinic. “Okay, then. Let’s fix this. We’re finished for the day. Join me for a drink at the Ace in the Hole.”

“No. I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

“I disagree.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “Whether you admit it or not, we have a problem. And it’s like I told Tucker. You can choose to ignore it, but that will just make the situation worse. Let’s clear the air.”

“Why don’t we clear it right here?” Reluctance mixed with the obstinate expression in her eyes. “No need to go for a drink.”

“I think this conversation would be more effective on neutral ground.” He looked around the exam room. “And, I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get out of here and relax a little bit. What do you say?”

Dawn caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she studied him. “You’re not going to drop this, are you?”

“No.” He sensed her weakening and wanted to smile, but held back. A victory lap now would make her dig in and that’s the last thing he needed.

“Okay.” She nodded reluctantly. “One drink.”

She didn’t look happy, but then again she hadn’t slammed the door in his face, either. Finally, the opportunity he’d been waiting for.

Chapter Four (#ulink_180af9f0-b14b-5d25-b78e-e7aa11af5460)

Dawn insisted on driving herself to the Ace in the Hole. Jon followed her. And when the heck had she started thinking of him by his first name instead of simply Clifton? Maybe she should let that go. It felt weird and unnatural anyway. She was basically a friendly person and calling him Dr. Clifton when everyone else used his first name made her look as if she had a stick up her butt. Which, of course, she did.

He parked beside her and they walked side by side to the bar’s entrance.

“Nice night,” he said.

She stared up at the dark sky awash in stars that looked like gold dust. A light breeze brushed over her skin. Perfect. “A Goldilocks night.”

“I’m sorry. What?”

Their arms bumped and she met his puzzled gaze as a sliver of awareness sliced through her. He was very cute and she should never have agreed to this drink. But he’d just asked her a question and it would be rude not to answer.

“Remember Goldilocks and the three bears? Porridge was too hot, too cold, then she found the perfect one. Same for the beds.” She looked up and sighed. “This night is—”

“Not too hot or cold.”

“Just right,” they both said together.

Dawn smiled at him and it took a couple seconds to realize she wasn’t supposed to do that. She shut the feeling down, then fixed her attention on the Ace in the Hole. Considering it was impossible to count the number of times she’d been here, the place felt like an old friend. She was going to need one.

There was a hitching post where a cowboy could tie up his horse if he was out for a ride and wanted to stop in for a cold one before heading back to the ranch. The front window had a neon beer sign that blinked on and off along with a lighted, oversize ace of hearts playing card. It was rustic and full of character.

They stepped up on the wooden porch and before she could reach for it Jon grabbed the handle on the screen door, pulling it open for her. A loud screech sounded, clearly showing that the rusty hinges could use some TLC.

Inside, across from the door, a bar ran the entire length of the wall. The mirror behind it reflected the lined up bottles of hard liquor. Circular tables big enough for six ringed a wood plank dance floor. Booths with a more intimate feel lined the room’s perimeter.

Jon pointed to an empty one and put his other hand to the small of her back. “Let’s sit over there.”

Dawn would have preferred a bar stool and less intimacy, especially because the heat of his fingers fried the rational thought circuits of her brain. By the time connections reestablished, any protest would have required an explanation and she didn’t want to go there. Besides, it was only for one drink and then she was gone.

“Okay,” she said.

It was a weeknight in early August and the place was only half-full—mostly cowboys, a few couples and ladies who hung out in groups. No one noticed them cross to the booth but Dawn couldn’t help noticing Jon behind her. And hated that she did.

After they’d barely settled in the booth, the owner of the bar walked over. Rosey Shaw Traven was somewhere in her sixties and quite a character in her own right. In her customary peasant blouse, leather vest with wide belt, jeans and boots, she could have been the captain of a pirate ship. Only her short dark hair pegged her as a contemporary heroine and her brown eyes snapped with humor and worldly wisdom. No one messed with Rosey and if they were stupid enough to try, Sam Traven, her retired navy SEAL husband, made them regret it.