CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Mason

I've got ten minutes before my next appointment. This will be the third one of the day, and it's not even nine. These days, Winnie has had to book appointments back-to-back all morning until noon, and sometimes later. It's the only way to fit everyone in, stay sharp and keep moving. After last night with Ally, that's proving to be a challenge, if not downright impossible. My mind is drifting, wandering back to the feeling of her mouth on mine. The way she looked up at me with her turquoise eyes. I was close enough to Ally last night to make out the smattering of freckles across her nose, and all I want to do is map them like a constellation.

We haven't spoken yet today, mainly because we've both been avoiding each other and it's awkward. We're back to this uncomfortable dance around the clinic. I was relieved when it seemed like we had moved past it. Now we're one step forward and four steps back. I can't say I'm not disappointed now. The possibility that our relationship would turn into something real was tempting, and now that door has shut for good.

It's not Ally's fault. Neither of us wants to address the moment we shared in my office. On my end, at least, the kiss was impulsive, a moment of weakness when I needed to keep my mind sharp. Ally was right to back off and shut it down before it went any further. Because it would have gone further. Her lips were intoxicating, and I found myself doing things I knew I would regret.

I can't afford any distractions right now, not if I'm going to keep up with this hectic workload and pull off a major fundraising event in the next few weeks. Ally is the most dangerous distraction of them all. As soon as I entertain the idea of her for a second, I'm fucked.

I scarf down a protein bar. I overslept today and got right to work when I woke up, not stopping to eat breakfast and now I can feel it. Finishing my last chart is my priority right now. There isn't much to write. Susan Hendrick brought in her oldest son, Charlie, for a rash he developed after eating a cake that one of his classmates had brought to school. Charlie is anaphylactic to nuts, and Susan jumps if he has so much as an itch. I can't blame her. Losing her youngest last year took a toll on her, as it did with everyone in town, including me.

I give her a prescription for an EpiPen refill and tear off a sticky note, slapping it on the front of the chart, scrawling ‘allergy clinic' and placing it in the basket of charts needing referrals to be processed. Winnie will get to those later.

I've got my appointments down to somewhat of a science. Get in and find out the reason for the visit in two minutes or less. This is always the challenging part. All of my patients call me by my first name, many of them having known me since I was young. They like the small talk, though there's no time for small talk anymore. I've mastered the art of steering the conversation back to the purpose of the visit without coming across as rude or abrupt.

I do a focused exam, only looking at what's ailing them, nothing more. You learn that once you look around, you always find something that you're not prepared to deal with and then the appointment runs amok. If it's bothering them, they'll bring it up. That's my philosophy. Or at least it has to be my philosophy now. At one point in my career, I wanted to make sure that I covered every base, left no stone unturned, and provided holistic care. It's just not possible now. I pick my battles. There is no way that I would get through the amount of appointments I do if I let everyone get off track.

Picking up the next chart in the pile to review for the next patient in the queue, I glance up at the door when I hear a soft knock. Ally wraps her knuckles against the door frame. I stare at her, waiting for her to state her business. She needs to get to the point. The longer she stands in my doorway, her full curved hip jutting out the way it does when she leans on one leg, the more I'm going to let my mind wander back to last night. I'm already getting semi-hard looking at her.

I'm so fucked.

"Sorry to interrupt," Ally says. "There's a woman here to see you."

"Mrs. Calhoun?" I ask, eyes skimming the chart in front of me. Anything to take my eyes off of Ally in her lilac scrubs. The ones that cinch in at her waist. "I know. I've got her chart and I'm just about to head in."

"No, no. She said she's not on the appointment list."

"Is it an emergency? Just tell her to wait for walk-in hours later today." I look back at the chart, glancing over the list of conditions that Mrs. Calhoun deals with. This won't be a short appointment.

"She said she's spoken with you on the phone already." My heart just about stops in my chest at Ally's words, but I don't look up.

Simone Mitchell has shown up unannounced at the clinic, and I can't show that I'm flustered by this. I'm not a religious man, but I might convert if I can pull this off without Ally finding out who she is and why she's here. "She's wearing a very put- together pantsuit, so I think she's here to talk business. Do you know who she might be?"

"Uh, yeah. I think I know who it is," I stammer, trying to come up with a viable explanation. "She's an old colleague of my dad's. You can send her in."

It's not a lie. I'm certain that Simone and my father had spoken at least once. That he was aware of the impending collapse of the clinic. Another thing to add to my list of reasons I resent Jack Landry. I'm just hoping that my indifference to her being here in the clinic is enough to ensure that Ally doesn't ask any further questions. The last thing I need right now is for Ally to find out the real purpose of her visit. Or that her time in Heartwood could be cut short. I'm determined to find a solution before it comes to that, and now, with the fundraiser, I need Ally to be focused and determined to make it happen. It's our only shot at saving the clinic.

Ally returns with the woman in tow. She was accurate in her description. Simone is wearing a dark grey pantsuit that means business and her expression matches. She's got tight, dark curls cropped short that suits her sharper features.

My eyes shift over her shoulder, and I see Ally still standing right behind her. Before Simone can say anything, I usher her into my office.

"Ally, please prep Mrs. Calhoun, get a bit of a history, and find out why she's here. Tell her I'll be another ten minutes." Ally nods, accepting her task. I click my office door shut as quickly as I can, right as Simone speaks.

"Simone Mitchell," she says, extending her hand toward me. I take it. Her handshake is firm. She's not here to mess around. "We spoke on the phone."

I close my office door and gesture for Simone to sit in the old, worn armchair that faces my desk.

"I'm sure you're aware of why I'm here, Dr. Landry. Given our last conversation about the process and the state of the clinic." I give her a grim nod. "I've given your situation a lot of consideration, and before I write my report and recommendation to the Ministry of Health, I thought it would only be fair if I came to see it for myself. To get a better sense of things in person."

"I appreciate that." There's reservation in my voice. "How long are you planning on staying in Heartwood?" I need to know how long I need to keep Simone away from Ally, how long I need to lie to her.

"As long as I need to gather enough information and get an accurate understanding of what you do here, Dr. Landry." Not the answer that I was hoping for. With the Harvest Festival coming up, we won't have been able to make any meaningful changes. That's what Simone needs to see. She needs to witness firsthand how much the community cares about the clinic, how much it means to them. The only way to do that is by having her stay long enough to come to the festival. I hate myself for what I'm about to do, and I'm going to pay the price later.

"We're having a fundraising event next week for a new program that we're starting. You should stay until then." An entire week of trying to keep Ally and Simone apart.

"What kind of program?" Simone asks. That's all she cares about. How the clinic will provide better services for the community.

I explain the prenatal program to her, outlining the rough percentages of women who visit the clinic for routine check-ups for their babies. I detail how Ally will run it with her labour and delivery expertise and continue the program for women in their postpartum period. It's as much about education as it is about providing improved social support.

Simone nods, taking everything in. A tentative smile creeps across her face.

"It sounds like you have a solid plan for getting this clinic back on track, Dr. Landry. If this fundraiser is a success and you get this program off the ground, it could be the type of thing that would be very convincing to the ministry in favour of extending your funding."

I return her half-smile. I won't show my hand too early. This is a game that requires strategy. Simone will be looking for any reason to write us a negative report. After all, her job is to look for ways to save the government money.

I lift my wrist to check my watch. I'm already late for this appointment, which sets me back now for the entire rest of the day.

"I hate to cut this conversation short, but I need to be getting back to my patients," I say, standing from my desk and walking around to open the door.

"Of course. I'll give you a heads-up when I'm planning to stop by the clinic. I'll need to come and observe the function of the clinic a few times for an accurate report."

I'll find a reason for Ally to take the day off on those days.

"Sounds great, Simone." It does not sound great. It sounds the opposite of great. "Can you do me a favour and lie low around town while you're here? The town isn't privy to the situation yet, and I would hate to cause rumours to blow it all out of proportion."

Simone nods and turns on her heel, walking back out toward the waiting room. I release the breath I had been holding and grab Mrs. Calhoun's chart off my desk. I can't let this derail me. We've made a plan. We just need to execute it. But the idea of keeping this from Ally makes my stomach twist. I want nothing more than to hold Ally like I held her last night, to remove all the barriers between us. The image of her lips parting ever so slightly as I leaned in to kiss her is confirmation that she wanted it, too. This is for Ally's own good, I remind myself. She can't be worrying about the stability of her job when we have the opportunity to save it. We will save it.

The waiting room is empty now. I can't see it from where I'm sitting in my office, but there isn't the familiar din of patients chatting with one another. People in Heartwood wait without complaint despite the long wait times, though they mutter among themselves about how the situation at the clinic has gotten worse over the years. As much as I try to ignore it, it stings that it's gone downhill in the year that I've been in charge.

The overhead fluorescent lights are off, leaving only the dim light of the desk lamp Ally plugged in behind the reception desk. It's glowing at the end of the hall, the only sign that she's still here. She's stayed late every night this week, fuelled by her motivation to turn the funds from the Harvest Festival into something meaningful for the clinic. Ally has approached it with meticulous organization, writing and rewriting to-do lists, creating folders of permits that needed to be filled out to use the town square, lists of the best vendors, and maps showing where she'll station them.

I peruse the toppling pile of charts, papers falling out of each folder. It's a wonder that I've kept the clinic running for as long as I have. Ally offers the only real chance of making it last. My meeting with Simone earlier has only emphasized that fact.

I can hear the faint sound of her humming to herself while she works at her desk. People who hum while they work are one of my worst pet peeves. It sets my teeth on edge. It did set my teeth on edge. Before Ally.

When Ally hums, the sound is melodious, and it sends a warm ripple through my core. I'm not working late alone anymore like I used to, so many nights before.

"Can I come in?" Ally asks, hovering in the door frame of my office.

"I'm surprised you trust yourself to be alone with me in my office, Honeybee." The corner of my mouth lifts in a cheeky grin. I notice that Ally's mouth matches mine.

"Me? It's you that you need to be worried about. It's obvious that you can't resist me." I don't have a rebuttal ready. Ally is right. I'm defenceless around her. Fucked. Whipped. All of the above.

"I won't believe for one second that you hadn't thought about it, too." I remember the way Ally's hands roamed around my body until she used them to push me away. She wanted it. She wanted it as much as I did, maybe even more. Even though I've promised to keep things professional, I don't want her to forget it. Besides, bringing it up now makes Ally wrinkle her stupid cute little nose, and I've decided that teasing her has become my favourite activity.

My eyes trail down Ally's perfect body, stopping at the piece of paper she's holding in her hand. As if remembering why she came in here in the first place, Ally clears her throat and holds it up to show me.

"I need your help with the festival layout." I wave her over to my desk, and Ally obliges, coming to stand just behind me. She leans down over my shoulder to place the rough diagram she's drawn on my desk. As she leans down, her long strawberry hair cascades over her shoulder and tickles my neck. If Ally didn't make it clear how opposed she was to any sort of connection forming between us, I would think she was standing in such proximity on purpose. She has to know what she's doing to me, standing so close. "What did you have in mind for the Lumberjack Games? In order to submit a permit application, I need to draw up some plans, so it would be helpful to get an idea of where we need to set up the lumberjack competitions, the seating for the guests, and all that."

I nod and pretend that I'm studying the map, even though I can think of nothing other than the sweet smell of coconut that's radiating off of Ally.

"This is good. We can set the speed climb up over here, along the edge of the square," I say, pointing to where she's left an open space on the map. "And we can arrange the rest of the events in front." I can feel Ally's hair brush against my neck as she nods. She hasn't backed away from me. She's not as closed off to me as I thought.

"Okay great, thanks," she says, and I swivel my chair around so I'm facing her, her nose just about touching mine. Close enough that I wouldn't even have to crane my neck to reach up and kiss her again. A little social experiment to see where Ally and I stand. She doesn't budge. Ally holds my stare a moment longer than comfortable before backing away. So this is how it is now. She's going to be stubborn. Here I thought I was the stubborn one.

Fine by me. She can continue pretending that whatever connection we have is just for show. Nothing more than a fake display of affection to get rid of her ex. But something about her determination does something to me. A challenge. I want to make her crack.

"Do you want a ride home? It's dark outside." The sun set an hour ago, and Ally's been a little jumpy since her run-in with the bear on the trail.

Ally turns before she crosses the threshold of my office.

"I'm good, thanks. I'll brave the woods."

Damn Ally, for whatever she's doing to me right now. I say nothing in response before she pivots on her heel, and I watch her hips sway as she heads back down the hallway and out of the clinic. I don't find scrubs sexy. I didn't find scrubs sexy. Until Ally Wells.

It's been fifteen minutes since Ally left. I know because I checked the time that she walked out of my office. I get up from my desk, get in my truck, and make the short two-block drive before turning down the overgrown gravel driveway. I inch the truck forward towards the cabin just far enough that I can see a light on inside, proof that she's made it home safely. Then I drive back to the clinic.