Her Texas Family. Jill Lynn

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      Graham grabbed a chart and turned, almost bumping into her. Lucy jumped back, not realizing how close she’d migrated in her efforts to breathe him in.

      He stared at her, those dark, stormy eyes wide.

      “Sorry.” She took a step back. “I—” Want to smell you? Nope. Not first-day-on-the-job words.

      Graham’s brow furrowed. “You okay?”

      “I’m great.” You just smell distractingly good. What kind of cologne is that? Would it be weird if I requested you wear it every day? Would it be even worse if I grabbed your perfectly knotted grass-green tie, tugged you forward and buried my nose along the collar of your shirt?

      Graham made his way past her, pausing by the edge of the desk. “We’ll turn off the phones for lunch. I need to grab Mattie from school. She has a half day today. But Danielle can answer any questions you have after you’re done eating.”

      “Sounds good.” Lucy pasted on a bright smile and waited until Graham disappeared down the hall before letting it fall from her face. Phew. That had been a close one.

      She searched the shelves filled with rows and rows of manila folders reaching up to the ceiling behind her desk and along the wall. Looked as though the chart she needed was on the top row. She glanced around. Not a stool or chair to be found besides the rolling one behind her desk. At five and a half feet, Lucy wasn’t necessarily short—unless she compared herself with her sister or father—but she was pretty sure she needed some assistance to reach the top row.

      She rolled the office chair over, aligned it in front of the shelves, then dropped to the ground and locked the wheels into place. Lucy stood and put one foot on the chair, then changed her mind and unzipped her brown, high-heeled boots. She removed them from her feet, rather proud of herself for taking the time to ensure her safety. She’d learned her lesson about climbing in heels.

      Her outfit for the day—an army-green dress that swished above the knee, cinched with a multicolored belt and accessorized with an assortment of mismatched beaded bracelets—wasn’t exactly ideal for climbing on a chair. But Lucy would make it quick. She’d grab the chart and be back down before anyone knew what she’d been up to.

      After giving the chair a test shove to make sure the wheels didn’t roll, Lucy stepped up, toes digging into the leather. She heard the front door to the office open but kept her concentration on the charts. Scanning the names until she found the one she needed, she slid it from the shelf. The chair moved under her feet. She gasped and reached for the shelf, dropping the file in order to hang on with both hands. The grip stopped her movement. A shaky, relieved breath whooshed out, causing dust to fly off a few files in front of her. Another close one.

      She jumped from the chair before it could cause further damage, bare feet landing on the floor with a thud.

      Lucy found herself face-to-face with a young man who’d appeared behind the receptionist desk during her chart hunt. He screamed cowboy. Broad shoulders in a blue plaid shirt. Boots peeking out from jeans.

      The skin around his brown eyes crinkled. “I apologize for being in your space, ma’am. When I walked in, I saw you wobbling on the chair and thought you might need a hand. Looked like you were about to take quite the tumble. And yet, here you stand.”

      He had a Southern drawl and he’d called her ma’am. Yee-haw. “I appreciate the backup.”

      “I’m the one who called to see if Doc Redmond could squeeze me in for this.” His right shirtsleeve was rolled up, a nasty-looking gash visible. He situated the cloth he was holding to fully cover the wound. “I’m Hunter McDermott. My family’s ranch edges your brother-in-law’s.”

      She introduced herself, and dimples sprouted in his cheeks.

      “The famous Lucy Grayson. Do you really think anyone in this town doesn’t know who you are?”

      At least one person hadn’t.

      “Sooo...” He stretched the word out. “I suppose you saw a bit of Rachel back in Colorado.” Hunter’s gaze flitted away before meeting hers again. “How’s she doing?”

      Oh. Now Lucy knew the lay of the land. Wonder if Rachel Maddox knew she’d left behind one interested cowboy in Texas when she’d headed to Colorado for college.

      “Rachel’s great. Busy with classes and off-season volleyball training. And not dating anyone that I know of.”

      Interest flashed on his face before he cleared his throat. “That’s good, then. I mean, not that she’s not dating anyone. Just that she’s doing well. I—”

      Hunter shrugged and shook his head, and Lucy’s amusement and pity for the guy doubled. He grabbed the chart she’d dropped—amazingly the contents had stayed anchored inside—and handed it to her. “Here you go.”

      “Thanks.” Lucy stepped toward the desk to set the file down and stumbled over her forgotten boots on the floor. Though she didn’t exactly need it, Hunter reached out, grabbing her arms to steady her. They shared an amused grin.

      “I’ll let Dr. Redmond know you’re here.”

      “No need.” Graham spoke from behind Lucy, his curt tone zinging along her spine. “Come on back, Hunter.”

      Hunter nodded at Lucy, then stepped around to the front of the reception desk.

      “I’ll meet you in exam room two.”

      At that, the cowboy disappeared down the hallway, leaving Lucy with a disgruntled Graham.

      Uh-oh. Why did he look so upset? Was it something she’d done? She could just imagine the long list of complaints Graham could have against her. After all, she’d literally been thrown into the job this morning with very little training. Lucy hadn’t been taught much more than how to deal with the phone and a quick lesson on the appointment scheduling system. Had she mis-scheduled an appointment? Lost a chart? Offended a patient?

      She didn’t know the answer. She only knew by the tension tugging on Graham’s mouth and the crease cutting through his forehead that whatever he had to say couldn’t be good.

      And Lucy really, really preferred good.

      * * *

      Graham didn’t usually have to count to ten when dealing with Mattie, but Lucy Grayson might be harder for him to handle than his five-year-old daughter.

      He couldn’t shake the sight of Hunter and Lucy standing so close when he’d walked into the front office. What had they been doing? There had to be a good explanation for why they’d been tangled up together. For why Hunter had been behind the receptionist desk in the first place.

      Had to be.

      “What were you just doing?” Though he attempted to keep calm, his voice dripped with irritation. And then, instead of giving her time to answer, the rest of his thoughts spilled out without permission. “I walked down the hall to find you practically in a patient’s arms, and a young man at that. How do you think that looks? What kind of reputation do you think that gives the office?”

      Her mouth opened but no words came out.

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