Chapter 5

CHAPTER

FIVE

Blakely

“Oh, I love your dress,” the receptionist says as I approach the counter of the Willow River Orthopedics. It’s located in the medical arts building, which is conveniently attached to the hospital. There is a long corridor that connects the two buildings, so I didn’t even have to go outside to come to this meeting. Well, I did, but that was to grab lunch.

“Thank you. I bought the dress for the boots.” I step back and raise my leg just so she can get a better look.

“Love it. Where did you get it, if you don’t mind me asking?” She smiles kindly.

“Oh, Marshall’s in Harris a few weeks ago. It’s one of my favorite places to shop.”

“Nice. I’ll have to check it out. Are you here to meet with Dr. Thompson? Kathy said we should be expecting you.”

“I am.” I nod. I don’t know if it’s my name badge that told her who I was or if she just knew. This is a small town, after all, and the Kincaid name is said a lot. I mean, there are a million of us. Okay, not quite that many, but there are a lot of us. I’m one of twenty-two grandkids in my generation.

She nods. “I’ll buzz you through. I don’t know if he’s in his office or still finishing with his last patient before lunch. Go on back and wait for him in his office.”

Reading her name badge, I say, “Thank you, Sara.” I hold up the bag that I picked up from the local diner in town. “I hope he’s hungry.”

“He’s a grouchy bear today, so maybe that will help.” She snickers.

“Hard to work for?” I ask, knowing that I’m close to overstepping bounds, but as they say, curiosity killed the cat, and I am hella curious about Dr. Thompson. I shouldn’t be questioning his staff, but the words slipped out before I could stop them, and now, I’m definitely sticking around for the answer.

“Oh, no, not really. He’s quiet most of the time. He does have his moody days, but he’s not mean or anything. Just a grump.” She chuckles. “Patients love him. He’s a great doctor.”

I smile. “Good to know. Thank you again.” I move to the door, and after the sound of a buzzer, the lock disengages, and I’m able to step through the door.

The hallway is empty as I make my way to Dr. Thompson’s office. His door is open, but he’s nowhere in sight. His desk is immaculate, so I take the liberty of setting up for our lunch. That way, we can eat and get right down to business. I know from his nurse, Kathy, when I called last week to set this up, that he has a full schedule of patients today. I don’t want to put him behind, so we have a lot to cover in a short amount of time. In fact, I think I’ll start eating so that he can just eat and listen. It’s not as if I expect him to have any kind of input.

I don’t even know why I’m here.

“Yes, you do,” I mutter to myself. I don’t know him well, but there is something in his eyes that tells me there’s more than just a grumpy doctor inside of him. He hates Christmas, and I’m not a psychologist, but something must have happened to cause that reaction. Christmas, hell, all of November and December are the best times of the year. He doesn’t know what he’s missing. Then again, maybe he does. Either way, I’ve, for some unknown reason, decided I’m going to try to give it back to him.

I want him to feel the joy.

I want him to experience the love.

I want him to celebrate the season.

Trust me, I’m fully aware that I have my work cut out for me, but I’m up for the challenge. Sure, I could just piss him off even more, but in my heart, I won’t be able to live with myself until I try. Maybe he just needs someone to try and to keep trying. If that’s the case, I’m his girl. Well, not his girl, but you know what I mean. I’m the woman for the job. There, that’s better, even in my head, that sounds more… professional.

Opening my container of beef and noodles, mashed potatoes, and green beans from Dorothy’s Diner, I dive into my lunch. I scoop up the first bite and moan at how damn good it is. I hear a choking sound and look up to find Dr. Thompson standing like a statue just inside his office, and his eyes are locked on me.

“Sorry,” I mumble as I cover my mouth with my hand while I finish chewing. “I thought I’d start eating so that I can get through my list and let you get back to your day.” He remains frozen, and I start to worry I have food on my face. “Do I have something on my face? That was a huge bite, but it’s so good. I got carried away, but trust me, you will too. I mean, usually, I get the most carried away with dessert. Dessert with lots of whipped cream. Do you like whipped cream?” I can feel my face flame with embarrassment. I close my eyes, willing myself to shut the hell up. I’m rambling on like a fool. I can’t help it though. Dr. Thompson, Oliver… he’s sexy as hell, and him standing there staring at me, all broody and whatnot, has my nerves frayed.

Slowly, I open my eyes, knowing that I need to face this rambling crazy mess I just made myself look like. However, when my eyes meet his, they’re flaming with… desire? Is that possible? He looks like he’s ready to eat me. I shift in my seat, because I don’t hate that idea at all, and I can’t allow myself to go down that particular line of thinking.

Not here.

Not now.

I’ll save all my naughty thoughts for when I’m at home in my room all alone. That way, I can take them with me to the grave. No way will I admit that the grumpy doctor does it for me. Nope. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever. I’m keeping that shit locked up tight like a bank vault.

Clearing my throat, I say, “I have a list.” I point to my tablet on the corner of his desk, as if I need proof that I’m here to work and not just ogle him while eating my lunch in his office.

That seems to break him out of his daze. “I’m sure you do,” he says gruffly. He moves to the opposite side of his desk and reaches beneath, pulling out a lunch box.

“Oh, I brought you lunch too.” I push the second Styrofoam container toward him. Did he think all of this was for me?

“You brought me lunch?” There’s disbelief in his tone.

“Yes. I wouldn’t ask you to take your lunch break time to meet with me and not provide you with lunch. It’s from Dorothy’s here in town. It’s really good.”

He nods. “I’m a fan of Dorothy’s.”

“I can remember eating there all the time growing up. I’d go to work with my dad, and we’d walk there for lunch from his shop.” I don’t know why I just told him all of that. He doesn’t care about my life, but that’s who I am. I share. I’m an open book.

I watch him as he opens the container. “Thank you for this.” His eyes meet mine, and I wish I had my phone out so I could take a picture as the corner of his mouth lifts in a small grin.

“You’re welcome.” We both dive into our lunches and eat in comfortable silence. I assumed it would be awkward, but it’s not. Not at all. I’m stuffed after only eating half, so I close the lid, wipe my mouth, and take a long pull of my water before grabbing my tablet. “Do you mind if I talk while you finish eating?”

“You barely touched yours.” He’s frowning at my now-closed lunch container.

“I’m stuffed.” I heave a sigh and place my hand on my belly, which feels as if it could pop open. “I can’t eat another bite.”

He nods stiffly, and I jump into everything I made a note of for us to go over today. “Okay, so Captured Moments here in town has agreed to be the event photographer. Palmer and Scarlett are incredible, and they’re giving us a discount.”

“Your family, right?” he asks.

I can’t hold my smile. “Yes, my aunts. Palmer is married to my uncle Brooks, and Scarlett is married to my uncle Archer.”

“That was nice of them.” He takes another bite of his lunch.

“It was,” I agree. “The caterer is sending over meal options, so as soon as I get that, I’ll let you know, and we can make our final choice.”

“I don’t care. Whatever you choose is fine.”

I ignore the statement because I plan to run the options past him regardless of whether he gives me his input or not. “The florist is going to do a mix of poinsettias and something else that she assures me is Christmassy.”

“Is that a word? Christmassy?”

I shrug. “Yes.” My answer is instant and, to be honest, a little clipped. He knows damn good and well it’s a word. He’s giving me a hard time. He chuckles, and some of my irritation melts away at the sound.

“What else is on that list of yours, Blakely Kincaid?” he asks, taking his last bite before closing his box and pushing it to the side.

“Seating chart, ticket sales, the silent auction, speeches, and an update of what last year’s gala money helped do for the organization and the community.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a handle on everything.”

“Any thoughts or suggestions? Anything that you can think of that I might be missing?” I know there’s not. I’ve already met with Hilary this morning, in fact, and she assured me I am well on track to picking up the pieces where she left off.

“Oh, and the venue, the Willow Manor, they’re going to already be decorated for the holiday, so that helps.”

“Also your family, right?” he asks with a furrow in his brow, as if he’s trying to work out how I’m related in his mind.

“My mom.” I smile. “Her grandma owned it and passed it on to her. That’s actually how she met my dad and me.” His eyes widen. “She adopted me. My mother passed away when I was really young.”

“I’m sorry about your mother.” His voice is soft.

I smile and lift a shoulder in a “what do you do” gesture. “I don’t remember her. I was really small, and my mom, Kennedy, she’s never treated me any differently than my brother and sister. She’s my mom. I love her, and I know how incredibly blessed I am that she came into our lives. My dad, he was just going through the motions, doing his best to raise me, but when my mom came along, his life changed for the better.”

“And you remember that, do you?” he asks, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“No, but I have eight uncles, my cousin Ramsey, all their spouses, and my grandparents. Trust me, I’ve heard the story over and over again. Each of them has a unique story that I could tell you by heart.”

“Oh, you’re one of those.”

“What do you mean, ‘one of those’?” I ask him.

“You love love.”

“I do. I love family. It means everything. Our family motto is to work hard and love harder. I plan to live by that, just as every other member of my family does.”

He mumbles something that sounds like, “It’s not what it’s cracked up to be,” before clearing his throat. “Right. Well, I need to get back to my patients.”

“When is a good time for you to meet me at the venue?” I blurt the question, and I’ve shocked myself, because why in the hell does he need to meet me at the manor?

“Why do I need to do that?”

“We need to work on table placement for the guests and for the silent auction.”

“I trust your judgment.” He stands and grabs his empty lunch container, tossing it into the trash.

“We’re supposed to be doing this together, Dr. Thompson.”

“Oliver.”

I nod. “Oliver, this is a big deal for me. Hilary is going to retire soon, and I need to prove that I can handle this gala, and that includes getting you involved.”

“Did she say that?” he asks, shock forming in his features.

“No, but please? I’ll work around your schedule. Anytime you want, I’ll make it happen.”

He opens his mouth, then quickly shuts it. He does this three times before, finally, he gives me a firm nod. “I’ll let you know.” He looks down at my lunch container. “You should finish that. You barely ate.” With that, he turns on his heel and walks out of his office, leaving me to stare after him.

Slowly, I stand and gather my leftover lunch. I had planned to just pitch it, but now I feel guilty wasting it, so I’ll put it in the break room refrigerator to take it home for dinner. Isla is going to be gone tonight. She has to work late and said she’d pick up dinner on the way home.

As I move to walk out of his office, an idea hits me. Walking back to his desk, I grab a pen from the holder and pull a Post-it off the stack next to it and write him a note.

Have a great day!

-B

I hope it puts a smile on his face. If anything, it will keep me in his head, and for some reason, that pleases me. I tell myself it’s because I want him to love Christmas as much as I do, but the swirling in my gut tells me that might not be the only reason. I’m going to ignore that for now. I have a goal—make Dr. Grumpy fall in love with the holidays. I’m not trying to make him fall in love with me.