Bluebonnet Belle. Lori Copeland
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gaze slowly traveled the length of her sprigged cotton dress. For some insane reason, she was glad she had worn blue this morning. Henry said it was most becoming to her.
“It’s you—the woman who sells Pinkham’s compound?”
“You know very well who I am, Doctor.” How dare he play innocent with her! Did he think he could tell Grandpa about her activities and expect her to roll over and play dead?
His implacable expression showed no indication of betrayal. “Do you want something?”
She did, but his unexpected appearance drove all thoughts from her mind. There he stood, leaning against the door frame as if he’d been there all the while observing her. His jacket was off, his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders in a distracting fashion. His hair was mussed, as if he’d run his fingers through it.
Studying her with heavy-lidded eyes, he waited.
What was it about this man that made rational women lose their minds? It was infuriating, that’s what it was. Simply infuriating.
When she realized he was waiting for her to state her business, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Is this your hat?”
His gaze was unwavering. “Yes.”
A smug smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. “I thought so.”
She hung the hat back on the rack, embarrassed that he’d caught her making fun of it. Now what she had to say to him wouldn’t carry the same impact.
“Is there something you wanted?” His eyes refused to leave her, bringing a rush of color to her cheeks. “Other than to make fun of my hat?”
“Actually, I’m here on a personal matter.” She adjusted her dress, repositioned her own hat on her head, then smoothed the sides of her hair, trying to bolster her courage. She hated confrontations, but this man inspired them. She could not, would not, allow him to think he could interfere in her life and get away with it.
Awareness dawned in his eyes, and he straightened. “Oh…I see. Step into the examining room, please.”
She didn’t have all day, and this wasn’t a social visit. She could state what she had come to say out here just as easily. And she was about to do so when he took her by the arm and ushered her into a small room lined with cabinets and reeking of rubbing alcohol.
Wrinkling her nose, April glanced around the place, uneasy with his close proximity. “Aren’t you with another patient?”
“No, just catching up on paperwork. Are you in pain?”
She met his gaze curiously. Do I look like I’m in pain? If I am, mister, you’re the cause of it!
Reaching for a chart, he cleared his throat. “I’ll step out while you disrobe.”
Her gaze darted around the room to see who he was talking to.
They were the only two people in the room.
“Disrobe?”
“Yes. Take off your clothes, cover yourself with that white sheet, and I’ll be back in a moment.”
Her eyes narrowed. Disrobe? Why, the knave!
“You’re not only a blabbermouth, you’re disgusting!”
Already halfway out the door, he stopped and turned. “I beg your pardon, miss?”
“Disrobe?”
Wait until Grandpa heard what his precious Dr. Fuller had just suggested! Why, he would have him thrown out of the community! Dignity didn’t hold with the likes of crude, ungodly men.
“Before I can examine you, you’ll have to take off your clothes.”
She stiffened. “I did not come in here to take off my clothes.”
“If you have a female complaint, I’ll have to—”
“Female complaint?” She stopped. Oh, yes, a female complaint. She couldn’t have a simple ache or pain, no, it had to be a “female complaint.”
“Yes, I do have a complaint and I am female, but the last thing I would do is disrobe for you.”
Calmly closing the door, Gray returned to his desk and sat down. “Let’s start over. Exactly what is your ‘personal’ problem?”
Planting both hands on the edge of his desk, she leaned close, glaring at him as she clearly enunciated each word. “What I do with my life, or what I take up as a profession, is absolutely none of your business!”
Leaning back in his chair to keep space between them, Gray frowned.
“And I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself, Dr. Fuller.”
It was his turn to look over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t speaking to someone else.
There were still only two of them in the room.
“It’s bad enough,” April continued, “that I have to contend with your archaic views on the female population, but now you’ve really done it.” Her tone dropped menacingly. “You’ve dragged Grandpa into this, and I cannot emphasize strongly enough that it is not your place to be telling Grandpa what I do, just because we do not see eye to eye on certain subjects!”
Pulling herself up to her full height, she felt weak with relief. This hadn’t been as bad as she’d expected.
Readjusting her hat, she expelled a deep breath. “I believe I’ve made myself clear.”
That said, she headed for the door and slammed it soundly behind her.
Gray’s framed medical certificate fell to the floor, the glass shattering.
The doctor stared at the rubble, mystified. Getting slowly to his feet, he walked to the outer office in time to see the hem of her skirt whipping out the front door.
He opened the door and watched her flounce down the sidewalk and enter Ludwig’s Pharmacy, slamming that door, as well.
What was that all about?
Stepping onto the sidewalk Gray peered at the closed door of the pharmacy, muttering under his breath.
More to the point, who was her grandpa?
The woman was an infuriating mystery, one he wasn’t sure he wanted to unravel. She had a temper; the shattered glass of his medical certificate was proof. But she was angry because he’d told her grandpa what she was doing with Lydia. The question puzzled Gray. Who was her grandpa?
He narrowed it down to three possibilities, with Riley Ogden at the top of the list. Could she be the “April” his friend talked about? It was more than possible, since Riley described her as stubborn, but beautiful. And if she was April, Gray couldn’t argue with either description.
“A man, Beulah. That’s what he is! A pigheaded, obstinate man! Doesn’t that say it all?”
April was still fuming over Gray Fuller. The fact that she hadn’t let him get away with it didn’t help. The nerve of that man to expound about “modern medicine” at Lydia’s rallies, when so many doctors still inflicted their obsolete opinions on women! The fact galled her.
“A most good-looking man,” Beulah mused. “But not good enough for you to nearly break the glass out of Papa’s front door.”
“Handsome? I don’t think so.”
“Better have your eyes checked.”
“Not all women are blinded by meaningless appearances,” April reminded her. “There are some of us who judge a man for his character, which, if you recall, Dr. Fuller is sadly lacking.”
“Dr. Fuller really gets under your skin, doesn’t he?” Beulah carefully counted out fifteen pills before taking a knife and scooping them