Page 3 of Doctor Grump

Fred frowned. “Who?”

“Me,” came a deep familiar voice. It was a baritone from the heavens itself, a voice that sent shivers of lust running through me even before I turned around to meet the cool green gaze of Ian Graham.

The most fascinating man in the world.

2

IAN

If there was one thing I hated more than funerals, it was wealthy elites who thought they were better than everyone else just because they happened to be born into money.

Somehow, I managed to experience both things on a scorching Saturday afternoon, which I suppose was my “fuck you” from the universe today.

It was to be expected, though, after I moved to a town that was teeming with wealthy geriatrics. Gracetown was a combination of things, but most of all, it was a town bitterly clinging to its sixties heyday of southern charm. In Gracetown, no one said anything without attaching polite nonsense to it, and everyone seemed stuck in everyone else’s business. Also, apparently, a surname meant everything. I had already been given the lowdown of the “founding families” of Gracetown and how they were essentially local celebrities. The whole thing seemed ridiculous to me, and I tried as much as possible to have as little to do with it, but it seemed like the more I tried, the more I couldn’t avoid them.

Evidenced by the fact that I was attending the funeral of the matriarch of one of the founding families itself.

Jesus, I just knew I would need the mother of all Scotch after this.

Heads turned at my statement. It was an instantaneous freeze-out as silence descended over the small crowd. Everything from curiosity to animosity leaked from their gazes, but there was an overwhelming sense of unwelcome. And to be honest, I couldn’t have given two shits. I just wanted this to be over with, so I could get back to the pile of work I had on my desk.

“Excuse me, who are you?” the tall man standing next to the priest demanded, his booming voice carrying loudly over the area.

“Someone who doesn’t want to be here,” I retorted. “Where’s Mick?”

“Over here.” The lawyer weaved through the crowd and stuck his hand out for a handshake as he neared me.

“Thanks for coming, Dr. Graham,” he said with a smile—one I didn’t return. I didn’t like the lawyer much either, and I did not trust his overly affable personality. Besides, I wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries.

“Well, I showed up,” I said. After his incessant calls, I figured I might as well come and see why he had hunted me down like a damn bloodhound. “Now, are you going to tell me what all this is about?”

“Yes, of course,” he answered. “Please have a seat. The reading of the will shall start soon.”

“What on earth is the meaning of this?” the first man repeated, looking angry. “Who is this man?”

“Your mother requested that he be here for the reading of the will,” the lawyer responded. “He is also included in it.”

A murmur went through the crowd at that revelation, but I ignored them, searching for a quiet corner to sit in. I took a seat near the back, next to a giant oak tree a little away from the crowd. A teenage boy turned to look at me as I sat down. I glared, and he turned around sharply and shifted his seat a few more inches away. Good. More breathing room for me.

Although, that didn’t stop the stares. Some of them were the same looks I had been getting in town ever since I arrived, full of curiosity as they sized me up like I was a piece of beef. Like they were trying to ascertain my breeding from my body language and see how much respect they should give me. There were also other looks, which bordered on flirtatious. I usually got those from marriageable-aged women who heard the word doctor and, all of a sudden, decided I was somehow in the market for a wife. Despite the fact that they had no idea about my background or even wealth, I guess the title more than made up for it.

But there was also animosity radiating from some. In my experience, this was their way of expressing their superiority and stating clearly that I did not belong. Too bad for them since I barely gave a fuck.

The lawyer jogged over to whisper something in the first man’s ear, and he frowned. He gave me another dark look and proceeded to pointedly ignore me as he continued his speech.

A few seconds in, I felt a tap on my shoulder. But even before I felt it, I smelled her. Daises and sunshine. That was the only way to describe the scent. It was like the epitome of spring, a summer of running through poppy fields, a long-forgotten childhood.

I turned around to see her—the woman who was quickly becoming the bane of my existence—standing there.

“Hiya,” she greeted with her trademark warm smile. “Fancy running into you here again.”

Damn. Why on earth is she here?

She gave a belated wave after her statement and waited, probably for some kind of response. When she didn’t get one, her smile faltered slightly. Still, that wasn’t enough to deter her.

“I’m Piper,” she continued in the same cheery tone. “We met at Kayla and Monty’s party remember?”

I did. Monty was a client of mine—a vet with some PTSD symptoms. He and his fiancée, Kayla, had thrown a birthday party for their son some months ago, and I reluctantly attended since Monty and I had become somewhat friends. But that was not entirely how I knew about Piper. I knew who she was because it seemed I couldn’t go anywhere in town without someone mentioning her. With the number of people she knew, one would think she was some kind of town ambassador. For every single problem I had, from fixing a radiator to finding a school for my daughter, I was referred to Piper, who “probably knows someone.” Then, there was the fact that I would often run into her at the most random times, like when I was grocery shopping or simply sitting and having lunch. And whenever she spotted me, she would wave and say hello, like we were old friends or something, instead of ignoring me like a perfectly sensible person. I would think she was stalking me if I didn’t know better.

---