What The Cowboy Prescribes.... Mary Starleigh

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      “Yes.” She brought the coffee to her lips again, trying not to give in to the memories. She didn’t want to talk about her father right now.

      “You must miss him.”

      Her chest ached with the statement and she knew she’d better change the subject. “Remember pulling thirty-six-hour shifts in med school and drinking this stuff by the gallon?” Meg rubbed her fingers against the blue porcelain, hoping to crush the tiny hurt starting in her heart.

      “I don’t miss those days, but it sounds like you’re still working just as hard.”

      “Sometimes. It comes in cycles. There are days when I’m so busy I need to be three people, then it slows down enough so I can catch my breath.” Meg smiled wryly.

      “That sounds like a tough way to live and work.”

      “How are you going to make a living here in Jackson?”

      Steve shrugged. “I’ve saved enough money for two years. By then I’ll figure out something.”

      So he really wasn’t planning on practicing. Frustrated and confused, Meg picked up the coffeepot and reached back to place it on the heating element. Pyrex glass connected with the tile countertop, a loud crack sounded and coffee splattered everywhere.

      “Oh, heavens, what a mess.” Embarrassed, she stood, pushed back her chair and stepped toward the sink. A shard of glass pierced her bare foot, causing a jolt of pain. “Ouch,” she yelped. The wound was deep in the fleshy part of her foot.

      Before she could reach the chair, Steve hastened to her side. “Take it easy,” he said gently. He helped her sit, then knelt in front of her.