Chapter 2

CHAPTER

TWO

Oliver

“Good morning, Dr. Thompson.” My nurse, Kathy, waves from her desk as I make my way to my office at Willow River General. I started here as an orthopedic physician, right out of residency three years ago. My parents live in Atlanta, so it’s nice to be close to family, and I’ll admit, I like the slower pace of small-town life.

“Morning,” I mumble as I step inside my office. After sliding out of my coat, I hang it on the hook behind the door before tossing my keys in my desk drawer. I boot up my laptop that I left here last night. Normally, I take it home with me to get caught up on charting and go over patient notes for the next day's appointments, but my best friend from college, Brad, invited me over for dinner for his son, Abe’s, fifth birthday, and I knew I wouldn’t get any work done.

“You have a full day today,” Kathy says from the doorway of my office. “Your four o’clock canceled, so I blocked that time slot. You have a meeting with Blakely Kincaid from marketing at five. I thought that would give you time to finish up your charting for the day.”

“That’s fine. Why am I meeting with Ms. Kincaid?” I ask her. An image of Blakely Kincaid pops into my mind. She’s gorgeous, young, and always smiling. Basically, her personality is the opposite of mine, and I have no idea why I would need to be meeting with the smiling beauty.

“It’s time to start planning the annual Christmas gala.”

Dammit, I knew I should have insisted they switch my committee assignment. “What happened to Hilary?” Hilary and I have worked on the gala since I started my time here at Willow River General. We have an understanding. She handles everything, and I back her up when she asks for it. Otherwise, I stay out of it. I couldn’t care less about the Christmas gala. Hell, I stopped attending my parents' annual Christmas party three years ago, and I can’t see myself changing that anytime soon. Let’s hope Ms. Kincaid is on board with that same plan.

“Hilary delegated to Blakely. She’s a sweet girl.” Kathy smiles. She’s my lead nurse and in her late fifties. I was insistent that I wanted someone who was not going to be hitting on me all day long. I’m here to care for my patients, not flirt. When I interviewed Kathy, I knew she was perfect, and she’s proven over and over again since day one that she’s not only an incredible nurse but manages to keep my ass in line and my schedule on time. I’d be lost without her.

“Fine,” I grumble.

“Donald Yokum is your first patient. He’s in room one and ready for you. I just finished entering all his vitals.” She taps the tablet in her hand.

“Thank you, Kathy.” I glue my eyes to the screen as I review Mr. Yokum’s chart before standing and heading to exam room one. As Kathy said, I have a full schedule up until four o’clock, and then this damn meeting with marketing afterward.

Fucking Christmas gala. I shake my head as I knock on the door and enter the exam room, starting my day.

I’m just wrapping up, charting my last patient of the day, when a knock sounds at my door. Glancing up, I see Blakely Kincaid standing in the doorway. “Dr. Thompson, good to see you.” She smiles.

I ignore the way her eyes light up when she does.

“Come in,” I tell her, motioning to the chair across from my desk. She strolls in as if we meet like this every day and takes a seat.

“I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.” She thrusts her hand at me over my desk, leaning forward with her momentum. “I’m Blakely Kincaid, the assistant director of marketing.”

I take her hand in mine. Damn, her skin is soft. Shaking out of that thought and pushing it down deep, I release her hand. “You’re taking over Hilary’s responsibilities for the gala.” I nod, letting her know I understand why she’s here.

“Yes. She’s delegated that task to me this year. As the lead physician on the committee, I thought we should meet to go over any ideas you might have.”

“I have no ideas.” I sit back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest.

“That’s okay, because I have a lot of them.” She laughs. “I’ve made a list.” She reaches into the folder she’s carrying, pulls out a typed list, and tries to hand it to me. She lets it fall to my desk when I don't take it.

“Hilary and I had an understanding. She did whatever she wanted. If she needed me to back her up on anything, I was there to do so. Otherwise, I wasn’t involved. I’d like to keep it that way this year as well.”

Blakely tilts her head to the side. Her dark brown hair has blonde highlights that bring out the sparkle in her eyes. “You don’t like Christmas?” she finally asks.

“Nope.”

“May I ask why?”

“It’s none of your business,” I snap.

“I’m sorry. I just meant, if it's due to religious purposes or something, I could talk to Hilary and let her know.” She worries her bottom lip, as if concerned she’s offended me in some way.

I’m not offended. I just don’t do Christmas. “It has nothing to do with my religious beliefs. I dislike the holiday and everything about it.” Hate it more like it, but she truly looks stricken that I’m not Mr. Bubbly Holiday Sunshine. I thought I’d spare her a little. I can do nice deeds when I want to. This proves it.

“Okay.” Blakely gives me a slow nod. “Well, take a look at the list and let me know if you have any issues with anything or have anything you’d like to add.”

I pick up the piece of paper and hand it to her without looking at it. “Looks great to me.”

She stares at the paper in my hand for several seconds before she finally takes it. “I’ll be in touch with your nurse to schedule future meetings.” She stands and turns toward the door.

“We don’t need future meetings, Ms. Kincaid. I don’t care what you do with the gala. The only thing I care about is that I don’t have to be a part of it.”

“Oh, team player, are we?” she sasses. “I’ll be in touch.” Her long hair flies over her shoulder as she exits my office.

“Fuck,” I mutter. Reaching for the phone on my desk, I dial the administration office and ask for Hilary.

“This is Hilary,” she answers.

“Dr. Thompson here. I don’t want to do the gala.”

“Dr. Thompson, it’s good to hear from you. As far as the gala is concerned, you are the lead physician on the committee, are you not?”

“Switch me.” My tone is harsher than I intended and laced with a little desperation.

“It’s not that simple. All the other committees are already in full swing with projects, and this one, it’s one time a year for a few weeks. Honestly, you’re very lucky this is where you were put. It’s much less work.”

I bite my tongue to keep from cursing. “Tell Ms. Kincaid she has free rein and can leave me out of it, just like in years past.”

“I’m afraid I’ve left that up to Blakely. This is her project now. If she needs you to assist, well, then that’s what you’ll need to do.”

I can hear in her tone of voice that I’m not getting out of this. “Is Tom in his office?” I ask of the CEO.

“No, but it wouldn’t matter if he were. It’s in your contract that you will serve on a committee for the hospital. You didn’t speak up about which one you wanted, and one was assigned to you. New assignment requests are taken in December for the next fiscal year. Might want to write that date down on your calendar, Dr. Thompson.”

Son of a bitch.

“Fine.”

“Will that be all?”

“Yes,” I grit out. I’m barely holding onto my anger. It’s my fault. I was good with letting Hilary run the show, and she never complained. I was complacent, and this is the outcome.

“Wonderful. I’ll see you soon, then.” The call ends, and I slam the phone back on the base.

Reaching for my cell phone, I put a note on my calendar to repeat every single day of December. “New Committee Assignment” is now an all-day event on my schedule for all thirty-one days of the month. I’m damn sure not going to forget this time.

More than done with this day, I shut down my laptop and leave it. I’m caught up on work for the day. Grabbing my keys from the desk drawer and my cell phone, I rip my coat from the hook on the back of the door and hit the light switch on my way out.

As I reach my car in the faculty parking lot, I hear a muttered curse. I look around, my senses on high alert. That was a woman’s voice, and if she’s in trouble, I need to help. My eyes scan the lot and land on a beautiful woman, kicking the tire of her car. Not just any beautiful woman.

Blakely Kincaid.

“Fuck my life,” I mumble, look up at the quickly darkening sky, and make my way a few rows back to stand next to her. “Need some help?”

“I have a flat.”

“I can change it for you.”

“I know how to change a tire. My dad is a mechanic. He taught me everything I need to know. I suffered through wearing wiener pants to learn,” she rambles.

“Wiener pants?”

“Oh shit.” She covers her face with her hands. “Just ignore me.”

“I think I need to know more.” I smirk. “Why don’t you tell me while I change your tire?”

“I can change it. The issue is, I don’t have a spare.” She glares at me.

“Your dad’s a mechanic. Didn’t he teach you that you should always have a spare?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, I know. However, I took it out last weekend when I went shopping and forgot to put it back in.”

“Why would you need to take it out to go shopping? It fits snugly in the back of your trunk.”

“In case I needed the extra space. I went shopping with my best friend for Christmas decorations for my office.”

“Christmas decorations pulled rank over a spare tire that you might need for you to get home safely?”

“When you say it like that, it was stupid. My dad is going to be pissed.” She bites her bottom lip as she glances down at her phone. Her eyes are starting to get wet, and I don’t do tears. I hate tears from a woman almost as much as I hate the holidays.

“Where do you live?”

“About ten minutes away at the new apartment complex.” She lifts her head, and the worry on her face is like a knife to the chest. I don’t understand why, but I feel like I have to fix this for her. Besides, I can’t just leave her here in the dark, cold parking lot all alone.

“Your spare tire is at your place?”

“It is.” She nods as she swallows hard.

“Come on. I’ll take you to get it, and you can tell me about these wiener pants on the way.” I offer her a grin, trying to calm her fears.

“You don’t have to do that. I can call my roommate. She gets off work in an hour.”

“You can’t stand out here for an hour to wait on her. I’m offering. I’ve got nowhere to be.”

“Are you sure?” There she goes again, worrying that bottom lip.

“I’m positive. Come on.” I wave my hand toward my SUV. Maybe this will help with the whole gala thing. Perhaps she’ll take it easy on me for helping her out? Regardless, I’d be helping her, but I’d take that win for sure, for my act of kindness.

“Thank you, Dr. Thompson.”

“Oliver.” I offer her another smile.

“Thank you, Oliver.”

“You’re welcome.” I lead her to my SUV, and she beams. “You drive a Toyota 4Runner?”

“You drive a Ford Fusion. What’s wrong with my SUV?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. I guess I just expected you to drive some kind of luxury car, like a Lexus or Audi, or something.”

“They would all get me from point A to point B safely. Why spend all that extra money just for a name or status?” She looks shocked at my words but doesn’t comment. I realize that I enjoy the fact that I was able to surprise her with my choice of vehicle. I pull open the door for her.

She smiles softly and mumbles, “Thank you, Oliver,” before I close the door and rush to the other side.

Once behind the wheel, I crank up the heat, and we’re on our way. I don’t need directions. Willow River is a small town, and there is only one new apartment complex. “Now, tell me about these wiener pants.”

She sighs. “When I was little, I used to love going to work with my dad. He has eight brothers, and for the longest time, I was the only grandchild, and well, I wanted to be like my dad and my uncles. Anyway, Dad would take me to work with him, and he always dressed me in these bib overalls. The crotch always bunched up every time I sat down. The story goes that I told my dad I didn’t want to wear wiener pants.”

I’m laughing, and when I glance over, I see she’s smiling.

“Have you ever worn bib overalls, Oliver? They’re not flattering for a woman.”

“How old were you?”

She shrugs. “Four or so, I think. I don’t know. I just know wiener pants are now a staple conversation piece among my family. I’m cool like that, I guess,” she teases.

“Definitely a good conversation piece,” I admit.

“I’m sure it was way funnier back then, hearing it from a four-year-old. It’s lost its luster over the years, but my uncles and my cousins never let me live it down.”

“I’m sure they’re teasing you out of love,” I say. Something has come over me. I don’t talk like this. Not anymore. I’ve been shit on by those who were supposed to love me, and my days of offering words of encouragement outside of my patients and my parents are long gone.

“This is me.” She points to the apartment complex.

“Where’s the tire?”

“It’s around the side of the building. We have a small shed for each unit, and my tire is in ours.”

I leave the car running and follow her to the shed. She opens the door and goes to lift the tire, but I gently maneuver her out of the way with my hand on her arm. “I’ll get it.” I lift the tire and turn back to my SUV. I’ve got it loaded and am sitting back behind the wheel before she returns to the SUV and slides into the passenger seat.

We’re both quiet on the way back to the hospital. When I pull into the spot behind her car, she removes her seat belt and turns to face me. “Thank you for taking me to get the tire. How much do I owe you?” She reaches into her purse for what I assume is her wallet.

I place my hand over hers, and she stills. Even in the dim lighting of the car, I can see the question in her eyes. “I was happy to help you, Blakely. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Thank you, Oliver.” She hesitates, then pushes open her door. I do the same and open the back of my SUV and grab the tire. “I can get that.”

“I’m sure you can, and I’m glad your dad taught you, but I’m not letting you change your own tire.”

“Because I’m a woman?” she asks, her hands on her hips as she glares at me.

“No, because I’m a gentleman, and if you were mine, my wife or my daughter, I’d want to know there was a decent man out there who stopped to help you.”

She opens her mouth to reply, but no words form. Instead, she nods, and I get to work changing her tire.

“You know, this is how my uncle Maverick met his wife,” she says, leaning against the car. “She had a flat. He helped her out.”

“Rest assured, I’m not looking for a wife.” My tone makes it obvious there is no further room for discussion on the topic. She lets me work in silence, and ten minutes later, I’m tossing the flat tire into her trunk.

“Thank you again. I appreciate all your help. Are you sure I can’t pay you?”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her to organize this damn gala on her own, but something keeps me from voicing the words. “I’m sure. Be safe getting home.”

“I will. I’m going to call my dad and have him meet me at his shop for a new tire.”

“That’s good. Driving around on that donut isn’t the best idea.”

“Thank you again. Good night.”

“Good night.” I step back, allowing her to get into her car, and I continue to stand here until I can no longer see her. Shaking out of this weird fog this day has been, I climb back into my warm car and head home.