Chapter 2

Colt O'Hara signedoff on a chart and handed it back to his nurse. In return, she handed him the cup of coffee he so desperately needed.

His eyes were blurry and there was more than a day's worth of beard on his face. But Juliette Martin had finally delivered a healthy baby boy at seven that morning after sixteen hours of labor. Just in time for him to splash cold water on his face and be back at his office for his first appointment at eight.

He loved being a doctor. Correction…he loved being a doctor in Laurel Valley. There was a reassuring consistency in seeing to the needs of the three thousand full-time residents who lived in the resort town. And like any small-town doctor, he did a little bit of everything. There was something special about participating in the joys of a new baby, grieving with those who'd suffered loss, and going through the life stages of everything in between.

During tourist season—summer and winter—his schedule would get a little tighter. He'd treat plenty of people with altitude sickness or the common cold. But there were medics on the ski slopes and out on the lake, so anything more severe was automatically sent to the emergency room at the hospital in McCall.

"I'm heading over to The Lampstand for lunch," Lucy Hatchett said. "Going to meet my daughter. She said if she didn't get out of the house and away from the kids for a couple of hours she was going to request you sign her into the psych ward at St. Matt's so she could get a few days of peace and quiet."

Colt chuckled and stretched his neck from side to side, working out the stiffness. Hannah had graduated with his oldest brother, Duncan. She'd gotten married right out of high school to Beau Bright and then given birth to a son every year for the next five years. She'd given up on having a daughter, but had finally gotten her wish a couple of years back with a surprise package. And then Hannah had promptly told Beau to get a vasectomy.

Lucy had been his nurse since he'd bought the practice from Doc Willis five years before. And she'd been the nurse for Doc Willis for the forty years before that. She barely stood over five feet tall, her face was wizened like a gnome, and her steel-gray hair was always perfectly set in sausage curls that lined up like soldiers across her pink scalp. She knew everyone in Laurel Valley's medical history and had it committed to memory. She gave scoldings when they were needed and lollipops to anyone under the age of twenty and over the age of sixty at every visit. He'd be lost without her.

"You go home and get some sleep," she said. "I've seen corpses that look better than you. I'll lock up here. Wally Gaines is our only afternoon appointment, but I'll give him a call and see if he can come in tomorrow morning. His gout is flared up, so it's nothing to write home about. No need to hang around here and watch the paint dry."

Closing at noon on a Wednesday sounded like a marvelous idea. And there was no use arguing with Lucy. He wouldn't have had the energy anyway. He was asleep on his feet, and then he remembered the coffee in his hand and took a sip, letting the bitterness send a jolt through his system.

"That's the best idea I've heard all week," Colt said.

"Of course it is," she said, her lips pressing together in a thin line. "You think you get to be my age without having two brain cells to rub together?"

"No, ma'am."

She hmmphed and then looked at him over the top of her glasses. "Maybe since you're so affable I should ask for a raise. Ever since your brother started building those condos and resorts the cost of living around here has gone sky high."

Colt grinned, enjoying the familiar argument. Lucy was probably the highest-paid nurse in the state and she knew it. There was a reason she hadn't retired.

"Hank's a modern-day land baron," Colt agreed. "I don't know how he keeps getting invites to Sunday dinner."

"Your mother has a soft heart," Lucy said, clucking her tongue. "Bless her. I guess it's a good thing Hank is so good looking, otherwise he wouldn't have a thing going for him."

"Which is why every single woman in west Idaho has tried to catch his attention," Colt said. "He might as well go on one of those dating reality shows and be done with it."

Lucy hmmphed. "I haven't noticed you trying too hard to fight off all that female attention."

He gave her a grin and a wink and said, "That's because I'm a romantic at heart. I'm looking for that special someone."

She snorted out a laugh. "Don't play me, Colt O'Hara. They don't call you Dr. O'Heartthrob for nothing. Maybe the lot of you should go on a reality show together. How you all hit the genetic lottery is beyond me. But you're not fooling anyone, young man. You aren't looking to settle down or you wouldn't keep dating those empty-headed ninnyheads. This place is running smooth and steady thanks to me, you make a good living, and you're not hard on the eyes either."

Colt arched a brow. "Thank you?"

"But you're not getting any younger. I'm just saying don't waste your good years. Find a nice woman to settle down with who won't bore you to tears before dessert comes. There's something to be said for good companionship and friendship. Ed and I were married fifty years before he passed, and I still miss the sound of his voice in the mornings and the irritating way he'd chew his toast. Bless his soul."

"Hank says I'm too picky. Maybe marriage just isn't in the cards for me."

"Lord have mercy, don't let your mama hear that."

"Believe me," he said, grimacing. "The thought terrifies me. We can trace our ancestry all the way back to the Normans. There's even a story passed down through the generations about how my eleventh great-grandfather rescued one of the faeries while she was in her human form. And in true storytelling fashion, it turns out she was the daughter of the king. In repayment, the king gave my ancestor the desire of his heart, which was a wife he could love above all others for eternity."

She sighed. "Well, isn't that romantic. Maybe that's why the lot of you are so devilishly handsome. You were kissed by the fairies."

He grinned, enjoying seeing the softer side of Lucy. "According to legend, it wasn't just my ancestor who got the gift of the wife of his heart, but every generation after. My cousins and brothers have done a good job of upholding the family legacy, but I just don't know if it's in my future. I can't even imagine myself with the woman of my heart, much less as a father with a bunch of kids. I still don't know how my parents did it. Parenthood is terrifying."

Lucy snorted. "You Irish have as much of a gift for hogwash as you do for gab. You've just spent these last years focused on the wrong things. But you're changing as you get older, and your needs and wants are changing too. Stop being such a pinhead and start looking for a real woman instead of those twenty-year-olds who only have one name."

Colt threw his head back and laughed. "Now you're starting to sound like my father."

"Mick O'Hara is no fool," Lucy said.

"Maybe I should just get a dog."

As if the universe had heard him, at that moment, the biggest, hairiest animal he'd ever seen streaked in front of the big plate-glass window of the clinic. And trailing behind it was a red leash and a woman who didn't have the sense to let it go.

Everything happened in slow motion. The papers in her hand slipped out of her grasp and scattered across the ground. She dug in her heels and bent down to pick them up, and at the same time the hairy monster put on a burst of speed that was enough to yank her off her feet and send her flying forehead first into an antique light pole. And then down for the count she went.

"Goodness gravy," Lucy whispered, horrified. "That horse-dog just deep-sixed that woman."

Colt's training kicked into gear and he ran out the front door, getting his first look at the woman sprawled on the ground. She looked young, maybe in her mid-twenties, and her skin was pale and unblemished. She had hair as short as a boy's and hadn't bothered with any makeup—she didn't need any.

He knelt down beside her to see what kind of medical attention she needed and felt for the pulse in her wrist.

She whimpered, but her eyes didn't open.

"Just take your time," Colt said. "I'm Dr. O'Hara. You're okay. You just got knocked silly."

There was no response, but he hadn't expected one. She was out cold, and a crowd was starting to gather around.

His cousin Mac ran up a few seconds later.

"Holy mackerel. Did you see that?" she asked. "Is she okay?"

"I take it you've got something to do with this?" Colt asked. "Was that Lawrence Fisher's dog I just saw MMA this woman?"

"One and the same," Mac said, her nervousness making her not let any lull in the conversation. "When Lawrence died he willed the dog to his brother, but Lionel didn't want him. And no one else wanted Chewy either because he's so big, so he got sent to us. But Lordy, you'd have thought someone shot a starting pistol at the way he took off out the door."

"Prison changes a man," Colt said dryly. "I'm sure Chewy saw his shot and went for it."

"He caught us all by surprise," Mac said. "He was as well behaved as you please before all the paperwork was signed. Then as soon as Zoe opened the door he took off and never looked back, dragging Zoe along behind him. I guess getting pardoned from death row will do that to you."

Colt grunted and said, "Her name is Zoe?"

"Zoe Green," Mac said. "She's really nice. Just moved here. She lives in one of Hank's condos. I think she's going through some stuff. Like a total life restart. But she's got great shoes and that purse is one I see in my dreams."

"Maybe we should let her wake up before you start reading me her bio," Colt said. "She just got knocked loopy. Let's get her moved into the clinic."

A shadow cast itself over Zoe, and Colt looked up into an unrepentant face of white fur. Chewy was panting and his red leash lay on the ground beside him.

"Not the best first impression," Colt told the dog.

Chewy cocked his head and whined, and then put his giant paw on Zoe's arm.

"Does he understand what I'm saying?" Colt asked Mac.

"That seems to be the consensus," Mac said. "He's smarter than he lets on."

Chewy huffed and blew out a sigh.

Colt put his arms beneath Zoe and lifted her, surprised at how slight she was. Lucy held the door open so he could carry her inside.

"I think he's insulted," Colt said. "Better bring him inside too so he doesn't flatten anyone else."

Chewy whined again, lying down on the floor and putting his paws over his nose in embarrassment.

"Oh," Mac said, her expression sympathetic. "You hurt his feelings."

"I'll make it up to him later," Colt said. "I think our sleeping beauty is starting to wake up."