Her Forever Cowboy. Marie Ferrarella

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      “That’s easy,” he told her. “I want to know if I’m going to be charging you by the day, the week or by the month.”

      “By the month will do,” Alisha answered, her voice irritatingly high-handed.

      He couldn’t help wondering if she was that way with her patients and decided that she probably was. It looked as though this angel of mercy needed a little help getting her signals right.

      “You didn’t ask for my advice, but I’m going to give it to you anyway.” He saw her opening her mouth to respond, and he just kept on talking. “You might find it a whole lot easier adjusting to Forever if you stop being so formal and loosen up a little.”

      “You’re right,” she informed him stiffly. “I didn’t ask for it.”

      Then, because he’d stirred her curiosity and because she did have to try to get along with these people at least until she decided what she was going to do with the rest of her life and where she was going to go in order to do it, she said, “Just out of idle curiosity, exactly how, by your definition, would you suggest that I go about loosening up?”

      “Well, for one thing, people here call each other by their first names—just like I’m pretty sure they do in New York City.”

      She really wished he’d stop smiling at her like that. She found it annoying—and unnerving. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

      “Okay.” Brett tried again. “For instance, you keep calling him Dr. Davenport—”

      “That’s his name,” Alisha interrupted.

      “It is,” Brett agreed. “But so is Dan. Around here, people call him Dan or Dr. Dan if they aim on being extra respectful. You keep calling him Dr. Davenport, and Dan’s liable to think that you’re mad at him.”

      That was ridiculous. “Mr. Murphy—” Alisha began in an exasperated voice, ready to put this man in his place—and that place definitely did not include giving her lectures.

      “Brett,” he corrected, cutting in.

      She didn’t come here to argue, Alisha reminded herself. She came to Murphy’s to try to get herself a little organized and ultimately secure a place to stay where she could have enough peace and quiet to hear herself think. The wounds from her sudden disillusionment and subsequent breakup were still very raw, and she needed to find a place where she could heal without hearing children squealing in the background.

      This apparently was her only option, and she’d learned how to deal with limits before. “Okay, have it your way, Brett,” she said, deliberately emphasizing his name. “Now, are you or aren’t you going to rent out that apartment to me?”

      Brett thought for a moment. The apartment was his hideaway, his home away from home. But since Olivia had informed him that Earl Robertson’s place was now his, that meant he could stay at that ranch house if he felt the need to get away for a few hours.

      Besides, if she lived upstairs, this would give him the opportunity to interact with this iceberg who needed thawing in order to get in touch with her human side. The possibilities began to intrigue him.

      His eyes met hers. “I’ll rent it to you,” Brett replied.

      She felt an uneasy quiver in the pit of her stomach, something warning her that she was taking a step she might regret. The next moment, she locked the thought away. What was the worst thing that could happen? If she decided she’d made a mistake—again—coming here, she could just apply to another practice, pull up stakes and move on. It wasn’t as if this move couldn’t be undone.

      “Good,” she replied, refusing to look away. “Let’s talk terms, Mr. Murphy.”

      “First term is that you remember to call me Brett,” he told her patiently.

      This man just didn’t give up, did he? “And the second term?” she asked him warily.

      If there was a first term, there had to be a second one, Alisha reasoned, and she found herself definitely not trusting this man. He was far too good-looking and smooth to be someone she could trust.

      Again, Alisha noted, her would-be landlord’s grin grew unnervingly wider. “The second term is that you don’t forget the first term.”

      She waited, but nothing more came. “And that’s it?” she asked, still waiting for the other shoe to drop—hard.

      “That’s it,” Brett told her guilelessly.

      “And the monthly rent?” Alisha pressed, wondering if it was going to be prohibitive—at least by his standards, she silently amended.

      The woman really did seem anxious to live by herself, Brett thought, wondering if it was that she was antisocial, or if there was more to it that she wasn’t telling him. And just possibly, herself, he added.

      “Why don’t you come upstairs with me and take a look at the place first,” he suggested. There was the chance that she really didn’t know what she was getting into, and what he thought was small might be unacceptable to her. “If you find that you like it, then we’ll discuss the rent.”

      “I said I don’t have to see it. I’ll take it.”

      Brett was not about to back off from this point. “And I said that I’d rather that you did see it,” he countered.

      If she was going to rent the apartment, he didn’t want her turning around in a month and stiffing him for the rent because something about the place wasn’t to her liking. Having her view the place just meant there’d be one less problem down the road.

      “Okay, show me the apartment,” she said, barely managing to stifle a huge sigh.

      Brett nodded. “Knew you’d see things my way,” he told her.

      Alisha swallowed the retort that rose to her lips as she reminded herself that for the time being, while she was here, this man’s apartment was her one and only option.

      “Hey, Finn!” Brett called out to his brother from the far end of the bar.

      Finn had just poured one of their regular customers a whiskey, neat, and glanced in his older brother’s direction. Brett beckoned him over with an exaggerated hand gesture.

      Crossing to Brett’s end of the bar, Finn asked, “What?”

      “I need you to take over the bar for a few minutes,” Brett answered.

      “Where’ll you be?” Finn asked.

      Brett nodded toward the woman on the other side of the bar. “I’m going to be showing Lady Doc here the apartment upstairs.”

      “Oh? Oh,” Finn cried as the truth of the situation, at least as he perceived it, suddenly dawned on him. “Sure.” If possible, his grin was even wider than his older brother’s. “You take as long as you like,” he said, looking significantly at the new physician.

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