Kissed By The Country Doc. Melinda Curtis

his gap-toothed smile. “More snow. More wind. More freezing temperatures.”

       More boredom.

      Noah squashed that thought. He wasn’t here for the intellectual challenge or the thrill of new, emergency limb-saving techniques. He wasn’t here for experimental procedures or medical accolades. He wasn’t even here for a research sabbatical. He’d accepted Mitch’s invitation to become the town doctor because he could no longer be the surgeon who could perform miracles.

      “Storm after storm after storm,” Roy murmured happily. “I love winter.”

      Up here, winter lasted six months or more.

      Mitch straightened, running a hand through his dark hair. “There’s a car pulling in.”

      Mackenzie, who owned the grocery store and garage, moved to the front window along with Roy. “Maybe they’re just passing through and need a bathroom.”

      “Or something to eat.” Ivy was craning her neck, trying to see over the cook’s counter.

      “That’s no car.” Roy slapped his skinny thigh. “It’s one of those Humdingers!”

      A long black Hummer parked in front of the diner.

      “It’s them Monroes.” Heedless of his audience on the other side of the window, Roy pointed and raised his voice. “I knew it. I just knew it.”

      “We don’t know anything yet,” Mitch said in a put-out voice.

      A man in his thirties opened the diner’s door for the carload. He had wavy brown hair in a neatly styled haircut and was inappropriately dressed for the mountains—slacks, leather loafers, a light winter jacket. No cap. No gloves.

       A case of frostbite in the making.

      Noah hid a smile behind a sip of his coffee.

      A woman hurried inside. Bright red hair. Pale complexion. Black leather jacket over a black tunic sweater, black leggings and black boots. Something about her seemed familiar. She spotted the restroom sign and hurried toward it.

       Carsick.

      Whether they were the Monroes or not, they were providing Noah with some much-needed entertainment.

      Another woman scurried in. She had wavy brown hair, pointy features and frazzled brown eyes shaded by dark circles that her glasses did nothing to conceal. She held the hands of two twin toddler boys, who clumped in wearing matching dark green unzipped jackets and white sneakers that flashed bright red beams from the heels as they walked. She followed the first woman to the restrooms.

       Single mom in need of a good night’s sleep and proper hydration.

      A third woman entered, stepping to the side so the man could close the door behind her. Her hair was blond, her eyes a bright blue. She had a sprinkling of freckles and the kind of glowing skin that never tanned. She was the only sensibly dressed one of the lot in a navy stadium jacket, snow boots and a knit cap. The toddler she carried had the same coloring and wore a pink snowsuit.

      She set down the little girl and proceeded to shed layers—hers and the toddler’s—plopping their gear and a diaper bag in a booth. She wiped the toddler’s runny nose with a crumpled tissue, straightened and took a good look around, while Noah took a good look at her.

      She didn’t seem like a millionaire. She seemed like the kindhearted girl next door. The one who blushed when you asked her to help you with your English homework, and was happy for you when you told her you’d asked the cheerleading captain to prom.

       Not that I was that guy.

      She made him feel guilty all the same.

      “I’m looking for Mitch Kincaid.” The man took up a wide stance. Hands on hips. An expectation of respect in his dark eyes. “I’m Shane Monroe.”

      Something crashed in the kitchen.

      “Well, I’ll be.” Roy grabbed Shane’s hand and shook it like he was pumping water from a well. “Good to meet you.”

      “Mitch?” Who knew what Shane had been expecting, but it wasn’t the town handyman and his gap-toothed grin.

      “Nope. I’m Roy.” The old man kept pumping. “Harlan was my—”

      “I’m Mitch.” The mayor got out of his chair and introduced himself, shaking Shane’s hand in a classy one-and-done.

      Something crashed into Noah’s thigh.

      The toddler wiped her nose on Noah’s black ski pants and then looked up at him with a mischievous grin and said, “Hi,” before fleeing with a squeal and a giggle across the diner.

      “Penny.” The girl next door snatched a napkin from the holder on the table and wiped at the streak of snot on Noah’s ski pants. And then she froze, her hands inches from Noah’s thigh.

      Noah’s ears filled with white noise, not caused by any head cold or sinus infection. This was one of those surreal moments where a beauty had unwittingly touched a beast. Noah’s heart went out of rhythm. He felt light-headed.

      Heart attack? Negative.

      Low blood sugar? Negative.

      High-altitude dehydration? Likely.

      Despite his diagnosis, Noah reached for his dehydrating coffee. But his eyes... His eyes couldn’t turn away from her.

      “My apologies. That was inappropriate.” The woman’s cheeks bloomed with color. Her bright blue gaze bounced to Noah’s and away before she, too, made a run for it. “Penelope Arlene, you come back here.”

      Penny’s laughter drowned out the white noise in Noah’s head, and sent others in the room chuckling, breaking the tension that the arrival of the Monroes had caused. Noah breathed easier.

      “We thought we’d come down and stay a few days,” Shane Monroe was saying, still on his high horse.

      Not that Noah was one to judge. As an orthopedic surgeon, he’d taken many a ride on a high horse.

       And look where that’s gotten me.

      Noah clenched his gloved fists, his left hand more than his right.

      The pale redhead emerged from the bathroom and collapsed on a stool at the counter with a croak for water.

      Ivy was quick to serve her, looking slightly out of her element. “Are you Ashley?”

      Ashley Monroe? The actress? Was that why she looked familiar?

      “She’s my twin.”

      “Oh.” Ivy sounded disappointed, but not as disappointed as the redhead.

      “You wanna stay here? Now?” That was Roy. Unfiltered. “In Second Chance?”

      Mitch tried to hide a laugh behind a cough. “What Roy means is, there’s a storm coming. Many storms, in fact. We usually get snowed in five to ten days during the winter. Passes close. No getting in or out.” He gave Shane the kind of look a New York doorman gives a tenant while explaining it’s impossible to get a taxi on New Year’s Eve. “You might be better off heading down to Hailey, or the other way, to Boise.”

      “Better off?” Shane’s dark eyes narrowed. “Is there something you don’t want us to see?”

      “Three to five feet of snow,” Roy answered, smacking his gums. “It’s a-comin’ tonight. Six or more a day after. And so on.”

      Penny was playing keep-away-from-mama, running on chubby legs between tables in the middle of the room. Not that the girl next door was trying hard to catch her. More likely, she was trying to keep Penny from wiping her nose on another unsuspecting Second Chance resident.

      “All we’re saying is—” Mitch was a former lawyer and