Melting the M.D.. Tanya Michaels
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church cancelled,” Meg said woodenly. “I can’t believe this! The weather finally warmed up a couple of degrees and now the pipes burst?”
“Sometimes the worst damage comes when frozen pipes start to thaw,” he told her. “Places around here, where freezes are rare, aren’t as prepared as facilities up north.”
She blinked. “I don’t mean to sound insensitive about the damage to the church and the cleanup they’re facing, but Lucy’s wedding is the day after tomorrow! What am I going to do? She’s already a nervous wreck. How am I supposed to tell her this on top of everything else?”
Scott sat next to her. In another lifetime, he would have put his arm around her, pulled her into a comforting embrace. The temptation was there, but…getting that close to Meg, letting her past the wall of cool reserve that protected him? It would be like those frozen pipes that had started to thaw and then crack: disaster. She’d hurt him once. Only a fool would risk becoming emotionally vulnerable to her again.
“You’re really taking this hard,” he observed, at a loss for what to say.
“It’s my job!”
“Your latest job.”
Color came back to her cheeks as she glared at him, brown eyes flashing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You do have a history of bailing when things get difficult, Meg.” The anger that washed through him caught him off guard. He hadn’t planned to get personal. But maybe he needed this closure, since the way she’d left him—and subsequently dodged his calls—hadn’t allowed him to properly say goodbye. She’d even quit the bakery, effectively disappearing from his life. “Are you sure you’re going to stick around and help Lucy through this? Wouldn’t it be easier just to wash your hands of the whole mess and leave her a note wishing her well?”
“I would never do that!”
His gaze clashed with hers, challenging.
Meg ducked her head, blushing with guilt even as she insisted, “Lucy can count on me.”
“Then you were right earlier. She is lucky.” He got to his feet. “A lot luckier than I was.”
By the time Meg caught up to Scott’s long-legged stride, he was inside the tux shop, explaining to a store employee why a change in the rental order was necessary. Meg took a seat in the waiting area and thumbed through a catalogue. But the glossy photos of grinning grooms and wedding guests only highlighted her problems.
Like Lucy—and her lack of a church for the ceremony!
Meg had been so startled by the pain and anger in Scott’s gaze that she’d almost forgotten about her client. She’d rarely seen him angry. He’d remained tolerant of patients even when they disregarded his sound medical advice and further injured themselves. He’d even seemed understanding when he’d first told Meg he loved her and she couldn’t quite bring herself to return the sentiment.
“No pressure,” he’d told her. “I just wanted you to know how I felt.” Yet once she had been able to admit that she did love him, he’d immediately started talking about marriage. How was that “no pressure”?
In retrospect, his pattern was clear. From coaxing her into staying the night after they’d made love, to seemingly casual comments that she would make a great mom someday, he’d always been subtly pushing her toward the future he wanted.
Perpetually unstable Meg, a wife and mother? Not likely. She would have been a bitter disappointment to him.
She glared down at the tuxedo brochure, where a newly married couple appeared inanely giddy with joy. “Stop looking so smug,” she grumbled. “You don’t know everything.” Not everyone rode the honeymoon limo into the fairy-tale sunset.
But if she had anything to say about it, Lucy and Grant sure as heck would!
Meg dropped the annoying catalogue and pulled out her cell phone. She dialed Bertha Hoffman, their bed-and-breakfast owner who’d grown up in this area. Why not brainstorm possible solutions before telling the bride-to-be that there was a problem?
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