Page 26 of Protecting What's Mine
She looked fondly at the building and patted the window in a silent goodbye.
It wasn’t too late,Mack thought foolishly.
Maybe Trish would have second thoughts and decide to stay in Benevolence. Mack could pick up rotations in the county hospital’s emergency department or say screw it and repack her barely unpacked boxes and high-tail it for the next high-adrenaline job placement.
But then Trish was smiling and holding out the keys.
Mack hesitated for the briefest of seconds, then took the key ring.
“Safe travels,” she said to her soon-to-be absentee boss. “Your practice and your patients are in good hands.”
Mack was confident in the medicine part. She was an excellent doctor. She just wasn’t sure what kind of bedside manner she could muster. Or if it would meet the judgmental Dr. Robinson’s exacting standards.
“Don’t worry about Russ,” Trish said, as if reading her mind. “He’ll warm up when he realizes you’re not here to hit quotas and sell kidneys on the black market.”
“Don’t you worry about Dr. Robinson or me or anything. We’ve got it covered,” Mack promised.
“I know you do. And I think you’re really going to end up enjoying Benevolence, Mackenzie.”
Visions of the shirtless firefighter in her backyard flooded her mind. Mack felt her cheeks flush.
“I’m sure it will be a memorable six months.”
10
Mack headed toward home with her windows down and the radio up. She would start officially on Monday and had a fluttering of nerves over the prospect. It would be good. She would be good. Dr. Robinson’s snooty reception had actually made her feel more comfortable. In her experience, every job came with its peacocking naysayers. She’d proven herself on more dangerous battlefields against tougher critics.
She’d rise to the challenge and show Robinson what she was capable of.
Mack punched the sun visor back up when she made the turn onto a tree-lined street and started thinking about dinner. And her backyard neighbor.
She’d been surprised every time his blue eyes popped into her mind during the day. A distracted doctor was a malpractice suit waiting to happen. So she’d efficiently boxed him up and set him out of her mind.
Getting involved with Linc would be a stupid move. No matter how attractive he was. Or interesting. Or heroic. Okay, so maybe she’d joined the nurses in their internal swooning over Linc saving a man and his flowers.
But.
She’d had enough casual relationships carved into her metaphorical bedpost that it was one of the areas she’d vowed to change during the next six months. No flings with sexy hotshots. A six-month cooling-off period would do her good.
Help her decide what was next. What was the smart move?
A figure appeared from the mouth of the lakeside trail at a gallop. Thick dark hair. Sweaty, tattooed torso. Prosthetic leg.
Mack brought her SUV to a stop, leaned out of her window, and whistled.
The runner held up a hand and then pointed to the gold ring on his finger. “Thanks. Married.”
“All the good ones are,” she called back.
He stopped mid-stride and turned to face her.
“Son of a—"
She was out of the SUV and in the sweaty, beefy arms of Aldo Moretta in two seconds flat.
“Doctor Dreamy!” he said, spinning her around in the air before dragging her in for a spine-cracking bear hug.
Joy, fast and fierce, flowed between them.
