Page 4 of The Doctor's Irreplaceable Love

Shelley laughed again.He knew that she loved his best friend, Travis—everyone did.

When she first met Travis, he knew that she’d found it strange that he and Trav were so close.They were different characters.Travis was fun and outgoing—boisterous, if not loud.They’d served in the Navy together—and with the rest of their friends.

Trip could see how he and Trav might seem an unlikely match to an outsider, but everyone around here knew that they’d been best friends since kindergarten.Trav liked to say that he was the brawn while Trip was the brains, but that wasn’t entirely true.There was so much more to their friendship than that.

He came back to the moment when he realized that Shelley was waiting for her wine.“Want to come down to the cellar with me and choose?”

Shelley followed him downstairs, looking around as she went.Trip had to wonder how this place must seem to her.It wasn’t exactly a regular house.

His father had been a well-known actor—a movie star, if you wanted to call it that.He’d come to visit Montana with some friends back in the late sixties.He’d fallen in love with Paradise Valley and had bought property here.He’d built this house for his wife—Trip’s mom—when Trip was just a baby.

Trip had lived here for most of his life, so he was used to what other people referred to as the grandeur and luxury of the place.Shelley had been over to visit a few times now, but other than commenting that it was a beautiful home, she hadn’t said much.

When they reached the wine cellar, he gestured around with his arm.“What are you in the mood for?”

He swallowed when it occurred to him that if she were to ask the same question, his honest answer would be that he’d rather skip dinner and take her and a bottle of whatever wine she preferred upstairs.

From the way she met his gaze, he wondered if she was thinking along the same lines.

She let out a short laugh.“Why don’t you choose?You know what we’re eating, and you know what’s good.Although, knowing you, it’s probably all good.”

He tilted his head to the side, wondering what exactly she meant by that.

She laughed again.“You’re a man of good taste.”

He nodded.He was tempted to say something about his taste in women—about how attractive he found her—and that just proved he had good taste.But he let it go.

There was no point.

Instead, he scanned the cellar and selected a bottle of his favorite Shiraz.He already knew she preferred big, bold red wines.

Back in the kitchen, he uncorked the bottle and immediately reached for the decanter.“This needs to breathe for a bit,” he said, pouring the wine in a slow, steady stream.“Give it about half an hour, and it’ll be perfect.”

She raised an eyebrow.“I love how you say that like you’re some kind of wine guru.”

He grinned.“I wouldn’t go that far, but I do know a good Shiraz deserves a little patience.”

She watched as he set the decanter on the counter.“Now that you’ve got that taken care of,” she said, “what can I do?”

He gestured to one of the stools at the counter.“Take a seat and keep me company.There’s not much to do—it’s just a case of reheating things.Although, before you sit, come take a peek—see what you’d like.”

She followed him to the fridge, and they both peered inside.

“If you’re in the mood for something hearty, there’s chili or lasagna.If you prefer chicken, that tray there is Maisie’s specialty—chicken thighs with shallots and little tomatoes and some other magic.I don’t know what.”

“There are a couple of kinds of soup, a huge bowl of salad, and –” He chuckled.“To be honest, I don’t really know what else.But feel free to dig if you like.Oh, and she made a loaf of her garlic bread as well.”

“How hungry are you?”Shelley asked.

“You should know by now—I’m always hungry.”

“That’s true.I don’t know where you put it all.I’ve never known a man who can eat as much as you do.”

He shrugged.“I won’t deny that I like to eat—but I do the work to keep the weight off.”

When she turned and let her gaze run over him, a prickling sensation ran over his scalp and down the back of his neck.

He didn’t know if she was aware of it, but she did that often—looked at him with what could be called appreciation in her gaze.

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