Paging Dr. Daddy. Teresa Southwick

evading the question,” she accused, jabbing the air in his direction with a French fry.

      He thought back. “There were the usual lectures about grades and living up to my potential. Curfew violations. Typical rebellion. A couple of run-ins with the cops. After all, I was ‘that Wilder boy.’”

      “Did you really have a motorcycle?”

      “Yeah. No pun intended, but it drove my parents nuts.”

      “I don’t blame them,” she said. “What were you thinking?”

      “Short answer—I wasn’t. Teenage boys aren’t notoriously rational. It’s more about testosterone.”

      “Just as teenagers?” she teased.

      He shook his head. “Not going there. That’s a demon not pertinent to this discussion.”

      “Why not?”

      “Because it’s your turn.”

      “For?”

      “Childhood confessions.” The shadows in her expression took him by surprise. Suddenly the spark flickered and went out. He was torn between really wanting to know about her and needing to put the smile back on her face. “What is it, Courtney?”

      “You don’t really want to hear the sad details.”

      “You’re wrong.”

      “You’re leaving.”

      “I’m here now.”

      She hesitated for several moments, then said, “My mother skipped out on my dad and me when I was Janie’s age. No note. No good-bye. Just one day when I woke up she was gone.”

      She was so obviously deeply committed to her child and he had instinctively assumed the fruit didn’t fall far from the tree. For some reason, he hadn’t expected that. “I don’t know what to say.”

      “You could say it sucked. Because it did. I never saw her again.”

      “How did your dad take it?”

      She laughed but it was the saddest sound he’d ever heard. “I can’t say he didn’t drink before she walked out. But I can tell you with absolute certainty that he was rarely sober after. Trauma tends to highlight things like that.”

      “Courtney—”

      “Don’t.” She held up her hand. “I hate hearing clichés and despise being one even more. But in this case it’s the God’s honest truth. I’m walking, talking, surviving proof that what doesn’t kill you definitely makes you stronger.”

      “So you never really got to be a kid.”

      She looked resigned. “I had my hands full. Dad had trouble keeping a job, which made a roof over our heads an ongoing challenge. When I was old enough I got a job. I was determined to go to college. It was the only way to have a better life.”

      Good God, he felt like a selfish, shallow jerk. He’d thought he’d had it rough, had given his parents a pile of grief growing up because of it. This woman had become a caretaker to her father when she should have been playing with dolls.

      “And did you? Go to college, I mean?” Starting out in college had definitely not been his finest hour, but the life lesson was one he’d never forget.

      “Yeah. I was doing pretty well, until—” She looked down, and a muscle in her delicate jaw jerked.

      “What?”

      “I got pregnant with Janie and had to drop out.” She met his gaze with the same fiercely defensive look he’d seen when she’d watched over her child. “My only regret is not graduating, but I could never be sorry about having Janie. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

      Reading between the lines he figured she regretted other things. But what she’d revealed explained something of why she was reluctant to accept help. When you couldn’t count on the two people you’d trusted most in the world, leaning on strangers wouldn’t come easily.

      He reached across the table and took her hand in his own. “You are a remarkable woman, Courtney Albright.”

      “Not really.”

      He didn’t argue with her because he didn’t like what he was feeling. Respect for her was a no-brainer. Against the odds, this woman had made a life for herself, welcomed a child into it, lost her husband and now carried the burden of raising her daughter all alone. Of course he respected her.

      What troubled him was the possibility that he felt something more than admiration. Attraction was an A-word too, and it was growing stronger every time he saw her. If he was as smart as everyone told him, he’d get on that plane she’d been trying to get him on. He’d get out of Walnut River before this turned into something that got him into the same kind of trouble he’d found in college.

      He’d fallen for a girl and she’d needed his help. When the dust settled, he’d been the one in hot water, and she’d walked away unscathed. Then she’d dumped him. That trouble had cost him more than time, money and his innocence.

      That trouble had messed up his life.

      Chapter Four

      David had been driving his rented BMW around town for hours and not just because the car was sweet. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much time on his hands. After the disaster in his first year of college, his father had cut him off financially and every hour of every day every year afterwards had been consumed with classes, study and working to survive. Something he had in common with Courtney. At least his father hadn’t been an alcoholic. Work had been James Wilder’s obsession of choice.

      After school, David had been consumed with keeping himself too busy to think, repaying student loans and building his practice. If he had less testosterone and more common sense, he would be on a plane back to that fabulous life in California.

      Why, suddenly, was he resisting it? Why was he still here?

      He passed Buns ’n’ Burgers and a vision of Courtney’s smiling face flashed into his mind. She was a beautiful woman and he had wanted very much to kiss her. After taking her back to the hospital, he’d spent a lot of time thinking about it. Maybe if he kissed the living daylights out of her, he could move on. If he didn’t, his weakness for damsels in distress might rear its ugly head and land him in trouble again. It was something else he was thinking too much about since coming home.

      That thought made David execute a quick right turn and whip the Beamer into the hospital parking lot located in front of the older structure. The new tower was visible behind it. He got out of the car, locked the doors and walked into the lobby.

      His brother, Peter, had his office in the same hospital where their father had once worked. Growing up in this town, David had pushed the envelope and tried to shake things up. For some reason he was glad that very little had changed. Including this building. Maturity was a funny thing.

      Not much was different—lobby, gift shop, information desk and signs pointing the way to the different ancillary departments. It smelled of floor polish, antiseptic and the fragility of life. Nostalgia enveloped him as he entered the elevator and proceeded to his brother’s office on the fourth floor.

      As he walked down the hall, David was bombarded by memories of this place. Very often, to see his father at all, he’d come here. He’d been a “fit in” between patients, rounds, emergencies and paperwork. He was all grown up now and it shouldn’t still bother him. But ignoring the knot in the center of his gut and its connection to the past wasn’t going to happen. Maybe he wasn’t so mature after all.

      David walked into the office and looked around the waiting room. Unlike his own professionally decorated offices in Beverly Hills, this one had generic chairs and tables, inexpensive prints on the walls and a TV mounted in the corner. Peter Wilder was older by four years, but that wasn’t