Hot-Shot Doc Comes to Town. Susan Carlisle

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ She gave him a dry smile and climbed out of the truck, hefted her bag over her shoulder and came around the car.

      He’d had no idea what to expect when the judge had ordered him here. He would’ve never imagined in a million years he’d find someone so smart, stubborn and surprisingly fascinating hiding out in some tiny ‘burb in the middle of nowhere. Why was she here?

      Taylor leaned across and unlatched the passenger door. Stretching farther, he pushed the door open. “Give me that.” He pointed to the bag. Shelby handed it to him. “What’ve you got in this?” He put it in the space behind them.

      “Charts.” She slid into the low seat.

      “You’re taking work home? You’ve already put in, what? A twelve-hour day and now you’re going to do paperwork. Don’t you have a life?”

      “The clinic is my life.”

      He gave her a long look. “I can see that.”

      She narrowed her eyes and said, “By the way, tomorrow please park away from the door. Leave the closer spaces for my patients. Some, like Mrs. Ferguson, can’t walk very far.”

      He put up a hand. “Okay. I’ve been adequately rebuked. Which way?”

      “Out of the lot and then to the left on the main road. My house isn’t far.”

      That figured. She wouldn’t live too far from her precious clinic. The only thing he’d ever been single-mindedly focused on had been getting the heck out of a town just like the one he was in now. Medicine had been the vehicle he’d used to achieve that goal. His lips twisted. Ironically, it had also been the vehicle that had brought him back.

      “Turn to the left just past the white two-story house. My house is the third one on the right.”

      He pulled into the tree-lined street with perfect houses and immaculate lawns. The neighbors were out in the coolness of the evening. Two couples stood talking to each other while kids played nearby. At another house a man mowed his grass.

      “True suburbia,” Taylor murmured.

      “Yes, it is and that’s why I bought on this street. I wanted to live where neighbors spoke to each other, helped each other. Where children could play and be safe.”

      His stomach clinched. The scene she described was everything he’d ever dreamed of as a kid. Slowly releasing a breath, he pulled his car into the paved drive Shelby indicated. The house was a red-brick ranch style with a two-story detached wooden garage and stairs running along the outside.

      “You’ll be staying there.” Shelby pointed at the garage when he turned off the car engine.

      “I’m staying here?” If working in the makeshift clinic wasn’t bad enough, staying in this homey neighborhood might kill him. “With you?”

      “You’re not staying with me. I rent this out. It just happens I don’t have a tenant right now.”

      Things had just got more interesting.

      She glanced over her shoulder to the neighbors watching from across the street, then turned to him and grinned. “You’ve already started the neighbors talking. We don’t often see cars like this in Benton.”

      “I guess you don’t.” Taylor felt his lips thin. He didn’t like being talked about. He’d spent his youth being the topic of gossip, being made fun of. At least these people weren’t talking about him in relationship to the town drunk.

      Her smile had disappeared by the time his gaze met hers. “You know, if you don’t want people to notice you then you might try not living so extravagantly.” She opened the door and climbed out, picking up her satchel.

      How had she read him so well? Were his feelings that obvious? He’d spent years learning to hide them. How had this woman he known mere hours been able to see through him?

      Taylor stepped out of the car and slammed the door, facing her. “Extravagantly?” His voice rose. “I’ll have you know I work hard for what I have. I can afford this car and I don’t have to justify it to you or anyone else.”

      “Little touchy, aren’t you?” she replied with a noticeable effort to keep her voice down.

      “Everything okay, Shelby?” a deep voice called.

      Taylor glared at the man who had crossed the street to stand at the end of her drive. Small towns never changed. People were always in your business.

      She walked a few steps toward the man and waved. “Everything’s fine, Mr. Marshall. I’m just showing Dr. Stiles where he’ll be staying while he’s in town.”

      Taylor went to the trunk of the car, popped it and grabbed his suitcase.

      “Okay,” Mr. Marshall said. “We’ll see you at the block party, won’t we?”

      “Sure. Looking forward to it.”

      “Bring the new doctor along if you wish. We’d like to meet him.”

      Taylor certainly hoped that she wasn’t planning on him attending any party. The Arctic would become a beach before he’d attend any social function around here. He’d made himself into an arts and opera guy. Benton didn’t even have a movie theater, from what he could tell.

      Shelby turned, her gray eyes flashing, her tone tight with control. “Don’t you ever raise your voice to me again where my neighbors can hear. They worry about me.”

      She motioned towards the garage stairs and headed that way. “You’ll not come here and upset them or create fodder for talk at their dinner tables. For some reason I don’t understand, Uncle Gene thinks I’m a halfway house warden for bad-boy trauma doctors.” The last few words were said more to herself than to him.

      So, Shelby didn’t like being the talk of the town any more than he did. Maybe they had more in common than he’d given her credit for.

      CHAPTER TWO

      SHELBY dropped her bag on the bottom step of the stairs that ran alongside the garage.

      “Since you don’t want to be a topic of gossip any more than I do,” Taylor said calmly, “maybe you should just agree to disagree about my car.”

      With great effort Shelby pushed down the temptation to say something. Having a public argument would certainly give her neighbors and friends a good tale to tell.

      “Just what did you do to get on Uncle Gene’s bad side?”

      “Uncle Gene?” he asked in a puzzled tone.

      “Judge Gene Robbins. He’s my uncle,” she said as she started to climb the stairs.

      “So that’s why I’m here.” The words were little more than a mumble, as if he was contemplating the meaning of life. After a moment he commented, “We’ve had a few legal dealings. Nothing special.”

      Shelby stopped and looked down at him. What did he mean? Was he an ax murderer? No, her СКАЧАТЬ