The Doctor and the Single Mum. Teresa Southwick
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you think I won’t stick.”
“Exactly. I just don’t want him to get his little heart broken again—” A lump of emotion lodged in her throat and it was mortifying in front of this man.
“The last doctor,” he guessed.
His parents and siblings weren’t the only smart ones in the Stone family. She was trying to be vague, but apparently he had a gift for connecting the dots. “Yeah.”
“I wouldn’t hurt him, Jill.” The tone was extraordinarily gentle.
“Not deliberately,” she said. “I know that. But it concerns me.”
“I admire your impulse to protect him and will do my best to help you out.”
Jill hadn’t realized she was spoiling for a fight until he didn’t give her one. She appreciated the compliment about her maternal instincts, and the admiration went both ways. He seemed like a good guy, but another seemingly good guy had once stood right where he was now. That guy broke his promise and her son’s heart. Jill’s had been nicked, too.
“Thanks for understanding.” What else could she say?
“I’m still not going anywhere.” Before that could be challenged, he called out, “C.J.? Your mom says it’s time to go home.”
“Do I have to?” The question was followed by the tap, tap of running sneakers. The boy stopped beside Adam. “My tummy isn’t tellin’ me it’s time for dinner yet, Mom.”
“It’s still time to go home,” she said firmly, noting the way Adam’s mouth twitched as he struggled not to laugh.
“Why?” the boy asked.
“Because you’ve bothered Adam enough for one day.”
“I didn’t bother him. Did I?” C.J. looked up, the beginnings of hero worship on his freckled face.
Adam glanced at her, caught between a rock and a hard place. Then he answered without actually answering. “Your mom has her reasons. If I were you, I’d do what she says.”
“Okay.” Then a thought chased away his disappointment. “Can Adam have dinner with us?”
“It’s Dr. Stone,” she corrected the little boy.
“He said to call him Adam,” C.J. protested.
“I did,” he confirmed. “You could take lessons.”
“Right.” Jill smiled. “How about a compromise, kiddo? What do you think of Dr. Adam?”
“I think he’s cool,” C.J. answered.
“I meant that’s what you should call him. Remember, respect for your elders.”
“Moving day is always tough,” Adam said, “but I didn’t feel quite so old until just now.”
“Can Dr. Adam have dinner with us?” the relentless child persisted.
“I don’t think so, kiddo.” She looked at Dr. Adam, and there must have been pleading in her eyes.
“Not tonight, buddy.” Adam’s expression was half amused, half regretful. “I still have a lot of boxes to unpack.”
Jill appreciated his cooperation and knew what was coming from her son. “No, you can’t help, C.J.”
“Aw, Mom—” Hope filled his brown eyes. “What about when he’s done unpacking? He might get lonesome.”
“You’re pushing it, mister. Downstairs. On the double.” She glanced over her shoulder and thought Dr. Adam might have been looking at her butt.
It was a nice thought, but a waste of his time and energy. A crush on the movie star type notwithstanding, she would never let Adam Stone be her type.
Jill walked C.J. down the stairs and when they got to the bottom she saw Brewster Smith walking up the path. He stopped in front of her, on the covered porch.
“Just came by to see if you found C.J.” The man was in his fifties and had a full head of gray hair and a beard to match. Very mountain-man-looking. He was an employee, but more important, her friend. “I see you did.”
“Yes, he was—”
“Hey, Brew,” C.J. said. “I was helpin’ Dr. Adam unpack his stuff and he’s got a lot! Mostly books. Really big, fat ones. He said they’re too heavy for me.”
Jill put a hand on her son’s small shoulder. “I’m sorry if I worried you, Brew. He neglected to tell me where he was going.”
“Figured that.” The man’s pale blue eyes narrowed. “If he had, you’d have put a stop to it.”
This man knew her better than anyone, knew how hard it had been when she’d been left behind by the doctor. He was the one who’d held her when she cried.
The door at the top of the stairs opened and heavy footsteps sounded on the wood tread behind them. There was only one person it could be.
“C.J.? You forgot these.” Adam handed over Batman and Captain America action figures. He nodded at Brew. “Hi.”
The older man’s eyes narrowed on the new guy in town. “You’re the renter.”
“Yeah.” He held out his hand. “Adam Stone.”
“Brewster Smith,” he answered, taking the offered hand.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Hope you still think that when I say what’s on my mind.”
“Okay. Shoot.”
“This woman is like a daughter to me.” Brewster’s face was all warning, no warmth. “Treat her right or I won’t be a happy man.”
“You’re already not happy,” Adam pointed out cheerfully, apparently not intimidated at all.
“If you do anything to hurt her, I’ll be a whole lot not happier. And that goes for a lot of folks in town, too.” The older man’s gaze never wavered, before he abruptly turned and walked down the front porch steps. At the bottom he headed in the direction of the marina.
“Nice guy,” Adam said. “Straightforward.”
“He’s a good friend.”
Jill was grateful for his friendship and something else, too. The town was circling the wagons around her. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, but it still made her very happy. In the case of Dr. Adam Stone it made her incredibly grateful. He’d done nothing to anesthetize her attraction and she’d need all the protection those circled wagons could give her.
Chapter Two
Adam had just seen his last patient on his first day at the clinic. He wouldn’t say this was the worst day he’d ever had as a doctor, but moving from Texas and unpacking boxes had been a piece of cake compared to cutting through the glacial attitude of the people he’d seen today. Of course none of those people had been C. J. Beck, who couldn’t have been cuter or friendlier, unlike his mom. Except for the cute part. Jill was more than cute. And that was nothing more than a guy’s appreciative take on a very pretty, very sexy woman.
The surroundings were different from any office he’d ever worked in. Mercy Medical Clinic was set up in a large Victorian house that had been donated to the town years ago. The kitchen had been turned into an outpatient lab and the spacious living room now had sofas, chairs and tables for a waiting area. Bedrooms had been converted to exam rooms, and closets held medical and office supplies. That morning he’d had the two-cent tour from nurse Virginia Irvin, who was no warmer than the patients he’d seen. She was like a glacier in scrubs.
He grabbed a cup of coffee from the break area