The Doctor's Devotion. Cheryl Wyatt
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at a broken-down tractor or two.”
She giggled. “He still kick tires when they break down?”
“Still does.”
“I’m ashamed I never appreciated everything about him before.” She slumped. “Anyway, time for vitals. See you later.”
He could only hope. Mitch watched her departure, enjoying every second of her appealing stride.
Ian returned. “I’m— Wait. Why do you look sedated?”
Mitch shrugged and averted his gaze from the lovely Lauren.
Ian eyed him curiously. “Anyway, I’m heading out. See ya.”
Mitch caught Ian. “Hey, what do you have going Saturday?”
“Besides staying in a coma?” Ian rubbed tired eyes. Mitch knew the feeling. His eyelids scraped like sandpaper.
“Lem invited the med team over for a Southern-fried feast.”
“You making this famous chili we hear about?” Ian winked.
“Sure. We’ll have a chili day at Lem’s and just hang out. Refuge medical folks are covering our shifts here.”
Kate approached, chomping on a delicious-looking apple.
His invitation lifted weight off Ian’s shoulders. “Lem’s it is then.” Ian eyed Mitch pointedly. “Will Lauren be there?”
Wait…what?
Kate snickered then looked thoughtful. “You know…we need another nurse. Lauren did outstanding. Have you considered—?”
“Already asked. She said no. Not just no, but ‘don’t ask again or I’ll throttle you’ no.”
Ian snorted. “When has that ever stopped you?”
“Point taken. I’ll work on her as long as she doesn’t do to me what Lem does to broken-down tractors.”
His team laughed, but Mitch wondered how Lauren would take his familylike friendship with Lem. Daily breakfast with Lem would be interesting. Especially if he actively recruited her to be on his team, which would mean major life restructuring and relocation. Much as he wanted Lauren close to Lem and on staff, it wasn’t his choice to make.
Help her make the right one, Lord.
But Mitch’s gut knew. He eyed the ceiling. “Thanks. I’m commissioned to convince a hot-tempered redhead to uproot? This is one assignment I am not looking forward to.” Especially if he had to continue to contend with this all-too-annoying attraction.
Mitch headed to look for Lauren and give her a ride home. And pester her a little more about at least being his part-time summer nurse. She seemed to enjoy scrub duty best and was good.
“Fine. I’m on it, God. But help me accomplish this mission with the least bloodshed possible.”
He rounded the corner and ran smack into the object of his prayers. She returned his stethoscope.
He tried to hand it back. “You might—”
Her head shook firmly. “I won’t need it again. This final cameo was nice for closure, but my nursing career is over.”
Chapter Four
“She really said that?” Grandpa’s laugh drifting from his kitchen drew Lauren from sleep the next morning.
“She really did.” Mitch’s deep, answering chuckle compelled Lauren to full wakefulness. Had she slept in? She blinked into darkness until her eyes adjusted and 7:00 a.m. squinted back at her from Grandpa’s antique dresser clock.
What was he doing here?
She rolled over to listen to the cozy male banter.
Grandpa harrumphed. “Well, it’s not over until the Good Lord says so.”
“Hate to say this, Lem, but she gets her iron will from you.” Mitch chuckled. The invigorating sound lilted down the hall and lifted Lauren’s head from the pillow.
She rubbed at scratchiness that the sleepless night had left in her eyes. If only she could rub away how raw his being here scraped her inside.
Who were those hooligans talking about anyway? Her? Sounded like it. In that case, she’d best be up and ready to defend herself. Grandpa’s robust coffee should do it.
Lauren lifted her robe from the bedpost and snuggled her feet into pure comfort that Lem left beside her bed. Sentimental slippers she’d used here every summer since age ten. Ones that warmed her heart as well as her toes.
She traced fingers across calico star patterns embedded in the last quilt Grandma Bates made before she died. Lauren pulled it up, pressed it to her face and drew a sustained breath.
It smelled like home.
Lauren smiled, glad Lem left the quilt in “her” room. She felt touched that he remembered how she, Grandma and Mom toiled over the pattern together with lots of tangled thread and laughter. The quilt and its cozy memories tucked aside for later, she stepped toward her door.
“So if her stubborn streak came from you, who’d she get the luscious red hair and gorgeous green eyes from?” Mitch asked.
Lauren skidded to a halt and held her breath to hear.
“My daughter, her mama,” Grandpa proudly answered.
“She must have been a looker. Lauren is beyond beautiful.”
Mitch’s heartwarming words washed through her. He thought she was beautiful? She pattered over, peered at herself in the mirror…and laughed.
Her unruly blaze of hair looked plugged into a live socket. Illinois’s humidity poofed it out like mops-gone-wild. It was a crimson entity all its own today.
“No matter.” Lauren wrinkled her nose at her reflection.
A handsome hunk thought she was pretty.
Despite the irksome fact that he was hogging her grandpa, Lauren stood what felt a foot taller. Which would still barely bring her nose to nose with Mitch.
His unwitting compliment melted off last night’s stress and sleeplessness. Hours full of trauma images that had stalked her deep into dreams.
Worse was waking to find out that she’d actually experienced gladness and felt useful again caring for patients.
She remembered the respect that had multiplied in Mitch’s eyes every time he’d sought her out last night, which had been often. She’d felt unequivocally in her element. Ian had even commented so in a hurried hallway. Kate, too, in surgery, said Lauren looked to be doing what she was uniquely gifted for. Was she?
Lauren shook off the notion. It was nothing more than an acute case of memories or a major manifestation of jet lag.
Why was Mitch here anyway? She shuffled into the kitchen.
“Look who’s awake!” Grandpa’s explosive grin pushed tears to her eyes. He greeted her with a flurry of hugs that felt like five years’ worth rolled into one.
When had anyone been this genuinely happy to see her? How she’d missed him, and the closeness they shared!
Which he now seemed to share with Mitch. The moment soured.
“Morning, Grandpa.” She helped him to his chair and avoided Mitch’s assessing gaze. Eyes that said he knew she struggled.
“Hope we didn’t wake you.” Mitch pulled out a chair for her at Grandpa’s table, covered in a crisp red gingham cloth and place mats she’d made as a child. Homesickness overloaded Lauren’s emotions.
As always, his kitchen smelled of cinnamon, her favorite toast. The kind she’d made for her parents that fateful morning.
She’d