Chapter 3

CHAPTER

THREE

Blakely

As I pull out on the road, I tap my steering wheel. “Call Dad,” I say, and my car replies that it’s calling Dad. The phone barely rings before he picks up.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Dad. I got a flat. Do you happen to have my size tire at the shop?” I ask, even though I know he does. He’s a mechanic, but I also know he likes to be prepared for anything and he keeps a couple of tires for mine and Mom’s vehicles around just in case. Honestly, he might have one for each family member. It wouldn’t surprise me.

“I do. Where are you? I’ll come help you change it.”

“I’m on my way to the shop. The spare is on already.”

“Proud of you, baby girl.”

“Thanks, but I didn’t change it. Dr. Thompson was insistent he do it for me.”

“I think I like this Dr. Thompson fellow,” Dad muses.

“He’s a grump.”

Dad laughs. “Even better. He’s not trying to hit on my baby girl. Drive to the shop, kiddo. I’ll meet you there.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Love you, Blake.”

“Love you too.” I end the call, pressing the button on my steering wheel, and a few minutes later, I’m pulling into Dad’s shop. It’s been a while since I’ve been here. I used to love coming to work with my dad, even when I had to wear wiener pants. I’m chuckling to myself when Dad knocks on my window, scaring the hell out of me.

“What’s so funny?” he asks.

“Just thinking about my wiener pants.”

He grins. “I have so many stories for your future husband.”

“I thought I was never allowed to get married?”

He sighs. “I know it’s going to happen, and I want it to happen for you. I’d never want you or your siblings to miss out on a love like I have with your mother. The issue is you finding that man. The one who will work hard to love you.”

“I think you’re mixing up the family motto, old man. I know you’re getting up there in years. It’s okay. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Just for that, I’m breaking out the pictures too. This future, no-face, no-named husband of yours is getting full access.”

“You wouldn’t,” I gasp, knowing damn well he would. He and my uncles will rally around. Not only to embarrass me, but to interrogate said faceless, nameless man. My family also knows that if/when I bring someone home to meet them, he’s special. I haven’t found him yet, but I’m still young. I’m not giving up hope yet.

Dad winks. “I’ll lift the doors. Pull it in, and we’ll get you taken care of.”

“Thanks, Daddy.”

His grin grows wider. I don’t call him Daddy often—I’m an adult after all—but sometimes, in moments like these, I slip up, and his eyes soften. No matter how old I get, I’ll always be his little girl.

Less than an hour later, I’m walking through the front door of our apartment. “Honey, I’m home!” I call out to my roommate, Isla.

“Hey, just in time. I made dinner.”

“Oh, so you ordered takeout?” I tease. A cook Isla is not. She tries, and she’s getting better. I’ve been teaching her.

“Yup.” She giggles.

“What are we having?”

“Chinese.”

“Perfect. I’m starving.”

“Did you get your tire all taken care of?” she asks.

I texted her while Dad was working on swapping out the spare. “I did. Dad had what I needed at the shop.”

“How was your day, other than the flat?”

“Good. I met with Dr. Thompson about the gala, total grump, and then he’s the one who ended up helping me.” I go on to tell her the story.

“Is he hot? He sounds hot.” My best friend wags her eyebrows.

“He’s… yeah, he is, but his attitude brings his hotness factor down.”

“So he’s not all mafia-controlling hot, more of plain-old-asshole hot,” she asks, referring to the mafia romance books we like to read.

“Just plain old asshole, period. He doesn’t want to help with the gala, and Hilary left the decision up to me.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I was going to become a thorn in his side, even just to keep him updated to annoy him, but his grumpy ass did come to my rescue tonight.”

“Maybe you should take it easy on him.”

“Yeah,” I agree, not really sure I’m committed to that. He did do a really nice thing tonight. He could have kept on walking, but he stopped and took time out of his evening to help me. I thanked him, but he wouldn’t take any money. “He wouldn’t let me pay him.”

“He’s a doctor, Blake. I’m sure he doesn’t need the money.”

“True, but I still think I should do something nice for him. I just don’t know if leaving him out of the planning is what I want that nice gesture to be.”

“Make him some cookies or cupcakes or something. In fact, make some for us too.” She grins. “Ulterior motive and all that.” She shrugs.

“Which one do you want?” I ask her. “It’s not a bad idea.”

“I’m not gonna be picky.”

“Well, it’s November, so I’m thinking of baking cookies. Besides, we’re working on the gala together. Maybe that will get his grumpy ass in the holiday spirit?” He hates Christmas. I don’t know why, but who can resist a homemade sugar cookie? Sure, they’re popular at Christmastime, but if they’re not Christmas shaped, they’re just a sweet homemade treat.

“I say yes.” Isla bobs her head. “Do that. Oh, and cover the sugar cookies with the icing and sprinkles. I’ll help, you know, once the baking part is over.” She grimaces.

“You just need to slow down and follow the recipe. Baking is easy when you don’t leave out ingredients,” I tease.

“That was one time! One time I forgot.”

“As long as you learned from your mistake.”

“Just make me some damn cookies, woman.” She tosses a balled-up napkin at me.

“If you insist.” I toss my trash, and Isla finishes up cleaning our mess while I pull out the ingredients I’ll need. Yes, I have them on hand. It’s the holiday season, and you never know when you’re going to need or want to bake some cookies. Isla turns on some tunes and starts unloading the dishwasher while I get to work.

With my container of cookies in hand, I leave my office and head toward the physicians’ pavilion of the hospital. That’s where Dr. Thompson’s office is located. The offices are quiet this time in the morning. Pushing open the door, I make my way to the front desk and smile politely at the receptionist.

“Good morning. I’m Blakely Kincaid from marketing. Is Dr. Thompson in?”

“Oh, Blakely, good morning,” Kathy, Dr. Thompson’s nurse, says as she steps into the reception area. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I was actually hoping to catch Dr. Thompson before he starts his day. I just need a few minutes of his time.”

“He’s not here yet, but you’re welcome to come on back and wait in his office.” She nods to the receptionist, who hits the button that automatically unlocks the door, allowing me to push through to the back office.

“Thank you, Kathy. I promise I won’t hold him up.”

She nods and glances down at the container in my hands. “Looks like you come bearing gifts too.” She smiles kindly.

“I did, actually. I had a flat tire last night, and Dr. Thompson found me in the parking lot cursing my tire. He helped me out and wouldn’t let me pay him, so this is just a thank-you gift.”

Her eyes widen. “He helped you with your tire?” she asks, as if she isn’t sure she heard me correctly.

“He did. It was so nice of him. Otherwise, I would have had to wait around for an hour for my roommate to get home.” I could have called my dad, but I didn’t want him to know I took my spare out for extra shopping room that I didn’t even need. It was stupid, but I was excited, and Isla and I were both shopping for our offices for this holiday season. Isla works for a small marketing firm based out of Atlanta, but her office is in Harris, which is the next town over from Willow River.

“Interesting,” she comments as we reach his office door. “You can have a seat. He should be here any moment.”

“Thank you, Kathy.” I want to ask her what’s so interesting about Dr. Thompson helping me, but I swallow back the question and take a seat in his office as she instructed.

I look around, taking everything in. Medical degrees hang on the wall, along with some certifications. There’s a picture of Dr. Thompson and an older couple, who must be his parents, and that’s it. No other personal touches. It’s hard to get to know the man when you have limited facts to work with. Just as I’m about to pull out my phone and consult the internet, he steps into his office.

“Good morning.”

He stops and turns to face me. “Ms. Kincaid. I wasn’t expecting you.”

The way he says it tells me that he’s not thrilled that I’m waiting for him in his personal space, not that it’s overly personal, but you know what I mean.

“I wanted to thank you again, so I made you some cookies.”

He remains standing, staring at me, so I stand as well and hand him the container. When he doesn’t make a move to take it, I step a little closer and pull back the lid. The smell of fresh sugar cookies fills the area between us.

He stares down at the container, his face void of emotion. When his eyes finally find mine, he says, “I don’t like Christmas cookies.”

Wait.

What?

“Sweet baby Jesus in a manger. How do you not like Christmas cookies? It’s a cookie with icing and sprinkles. What’s not to love?” I don’t understand this man. “Besides, they’re blue and white icing with darker blue sprinkles. That’s not a Christmas cookie. That’s just a damn good sugar cookie you’re missing out on.”

“I’m sure they’re great. Just not for me.”

“Try one.” I lift the container close to his face. “Come on. Just one.”

“No.”

“I’m not leaving until you try one.”

“I have patients to see,” he grumbles.

“And I have my own work to take care of, but I’m not leaving this office until you eat my cookie.”

His eyes snap to mine, and I replay over in my mind what I just said. Oh shit. I can feel my face flame with embarrassment. “My cookies. You have to eat one of my cookies,” I amend.

“Blakely.”

His voice is all growly and, I gotta be honest, sexy. He holds my stare for several seconds before his eyes go back to the container and then back to me.

“Please?” I ask, keeping my voice soft.

“Fine. I’ll eat the damn cookies. Will you please leave after that?”

“Yes.” I smile proudly. “Thank you for helping me yesterday.”

He reaches into the container and grabs a cookie, taking a big bite.

“Happy now?” he asks after he swallows.

“Almost.” I nod toward the remaining cookie in his hand. He rolls his eyes but pops the rest into his mouth. “See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Placing the lid back on the container, I set it on his desk. “There’s plenty in case you wanted to share them with the staff,” I say before turning back to face him. “Do you like my cookie? Cookies,” I correct quickly. Dammit, what is wrong with me today?

“Delicious,” he deadpans, but there is something in his eyes, a heat that wasn’t there before. Then again, I could just be imagining it as my embarrassment washes over me.

It’s not like I’ve made the best impression. Yesterday's meeting was a shit show. He doesn’t want to help me at all, and then last night, he had to. At least that tells me somewhere inside that sexy, grumpy exterior is a good man, one who’s willing to make good choices and do the right thing. Maybe he just needs a little encouragement, just like with the cookie.

Suddenly, I have a new agenda item on my to-do list. I’m going to make Dr. Grumpy love this holiday as much as I do.

“Well, I’ll let you get to your patients. Have a great day.” I offer him a bright smile before strolling out of his office.

I want to call Isla and tell her what happened, but that’s going to have to wait until I get home tonight. I have a full day ahead of me, and I need to confirm my aunts Palmer and Scarlett and Captured Moments can work the gala. My to-do list is seventeen miles long, and I have no business adding Dr. Grumpy and his lack of love for the holiday to it, but I just can’t help myself.

When I make it back to my office, I take the other container of cookies that I brought today and place them in the small break room in the administration office before getting to work.