Second Chance Dad. Roxanne Rustand

his chair and waited until she settled on the couch with a folder in her lap that probably told her more about him than he wanted anyone to know—much less some perky little pixie who was planning to gush platitudes and false empathy about his “situation,” and then come up with yet another completely useless plan to turn his life around.

      He’d been there, done that, and wasn’t going there again with anyone—even if this gal did have a smile that could rival the lighting in a surgical suite.

      Glancing between the can of salmon in her hand and the rapt attention of the dog at her feet, she set the can on the table at the end of the couch and waggled a forefinger at Bear. “Don’t even think about it.”

      “How do I know you haven’t poisoned my dog with that stuff?”

      “I love dogs. I’m just not sure about the ones that meet me with a snarl, and I happened to have the salmon in a grocery bag I forgot to take out of my car last night. But believe me, after meeting several grumpy dogs and their even grumpier owners today I’ll always carry something yummy in the future. Pays to make friends.” She gave him a slow appraisal. “What about you? Ghirardelli? Lindt?”

      He masked a startled bark of laughter with a deeper scowl.

      “Well, then, let’s get on with things, okay?” she continued smoothly. “I suspect that with your medical background, you know far more than I do about your injuries and how to provide the exact type of therapy for regaining maximum function.”

      Did he? Not really. Not anymore. He’d specialized in emergency medicine, not the long haul of restorative medicine that often followed severe injuries, and after ten years of intense focus on his own field, what he knew was based more on logic and what was now outdated information from medical school.

      “But then that would beg the question of why you haven’t achieved that progress on your own.” She smiled gently. “My guess is that you do need me. Because I can provide the kind of deep massage, flexibility exercises and encouragement to get you to where you want to be.”

      He snorted. He was exactly where he wanted to be. Where he deserved to be. “Spend your time on those other clients in your caseload.”

      “I will. But I’ll be coming here, as well.”

      “I don’t think—”

      “We’ve got a deadline, Dr. McLaren. Both of us do, given the time limitation on your insurance policy and my boss.”

      “I don’t honestly care.”

      She leaned forward, her delicate brows drawing together. “Let’s give this a good shot anyway. I know I can help you. Let me prove it.”

      “I don’t want this. Understand?” Guilt lanced through him at the stricken expression in her eyes, and he had to steel himself against the feeling that he’d just kicked a puppy.

      But the others had given up and she would, too. He’d make sure of it.

      She blasted him with another one of her dazzling smiles as she stood and headed for him, then thrust out a hand. Without thinking, he reflexively accepted her handshake, feeling a little dazed at the firm clasp of her delicate hand.

      “I think we’ll get along just great. I’ll be back Friday, so we can start with a baseline assessment and some goal setting.”

      He stared after her as she let herself out the door and closed it behind her.

      She was coming back?

      He’d have to make himself perfectly clear, if she did show up again. He didn’t want her intruding in his life. He didn’t want anyone promising the moon and stars, and the prospect of a full and rewarding future.

      Because after what he’d done—and what he’d failed to do—that was the stuff of fairy tales, not reality. And he only wanted to be left alone.

      Back in town, Sophie sloshed through the county office building to Grace’s, her feet soaked and cold, her hair a sodden mess. Her first day on the job had presented more challenges than she ever could have imagined, but it was the final home visit that disturbed her the most.

      Grace looked up from her computer screen and surveyed her from head to toe. “What happened to you?”

      “My last appointment. The storm was only half the problem, believe me.”

      “You look like a drowned rat—pardon the cliché.”

      “I had a difficult time even getting to my car, it was raining so hard, and the roads up there turned to deep mud. I was lucky to get back.”

      Grace gave her an appraising look. “So you did see Dr. McLaren.” Sophie nodded.

      “And how did it go?”

      Sophie braced her hands on the front edge of Grace’s desk. “There should have been much more documentation in his files. That man has had severe injuries. Multiple surgeries. I cannot imagine the pain he has suffered. And all I had were the therapy orders and a brief page of progress notes—by therapists who apparently didn’t get to first base. I wasn’t prepared at all. And,” she added softly, feeling another surge of regret, “because of that, I’m afraid I was really hard on him.”

      “Good.”

      “Good? I’m embarrassed. I normally wouldn’t talk to a client like that. But when I got there, no one answered the door. I thought he was old and might be dead in there, and then—”

      A smile flitted across Grace’s face. “But you got in the door.”

      “Well, yes.”

      “And he talked to you. Right?”

      “He wasn’t very happy about it.”

      “Did he tell you about the accident itself—how it happened?”

      “No. I asked when I was leaving, and his face practically turned to granite. He said he wasn’t going to talk about it, and suddenly that was the end of our visit.” She shivered a little at the memory, because she’d seen pain in his eyes that was so bleak, so beyond reaching, that she could only imagine what he’d been through. “I think he could be a very intimidating man…but now he simply doesn’t care about anything or anyone. Except maybe his dog.”

      “I’ll leave it up to him, if he wants to tell you about what happened, though he probably won’t.” Grace pushed away from her desk and went to look out the window facing Main Street. “But you’re right—he no longer cares. A number of our therapists have tried to help him, and he wouldn’t see any of them a second time. He’s at the end of the line for us because his insurance coverage for therapy runs out in sixty days. But if you don’t give up on him, you have a chance of giving him back his life, Sophie.”

      “I’m not sure he’ll let me in the door next time.”

      Grace turned around to face her. “Like I told you before, if you prove your mettle by succeeding with your clients, I give you my promise that you’ll have a full-time job here. If Paul comes back at the end of August and wants to keep his job, I’ll find a way to stretch the budget, because I know we can keep two good therapists busy. Is that a deal?”

      She couldn’t contain her smile. “Absolutely.”

      Eli would have his school. His friends. They wouldn’t have to move to some big anonymous city, where they wouldn’t know their neighbors, and where Eli could be lost in the shuffle and never receive the kind of help he needed. They wouldn’t have to leave the little house where Eli felt secure.

      It was exactly what she’d hoped for, all along. But still, a niggle of worry crept back into her thoughts.

      What if she failed?

      Chapter Two

      Stepping into Aspen Creek Books early on a Saturday morning had always filled Sophie with a warm sense of peace and happiness.

      Until