RYAN STRAIGHTENED FROM the kitchen table later that afternoon at the sound of a car coming down the driveway. He rubbed two fingers into his chest when his heart began to thump against his rib cage.
Anticipation was a dangerous emotion, hope even more so. But he couldn’t quite extinguish the unexpected hope that his neighbor had stopped by to check on him.
Meredith didn’t owe him a visit or anything else. He hadn’t even been back to the animal rescue since the evening they’d had dinner together.
He couldn’t explain his reason other than he’d enjoyed himself too damn much. His stay in Magnolia wasn’t for pleasure or to ease his survivor guilt. He didn’t deserve that. After all, he was still alive, and it seemed only fitting that every day remind him of the fact that he’d been spared when others—people who had way more to live for—hadn’t been so lucky.
He had to stay away from anything that felt like happiness. Ryan wasn’t ready to allow himself any happiness. He couldn’t imagine a time when he might be.
He didn’t want to examine the disappointment that crashed through him at the sight of an unfamiliar vehicle—not Meredith’s truck—pulling to a stop in front of the cottage as he opened the front door. A few scoops of kibble and one steak dinner and he was somehow smitten with his too-cute neighbor? Ridiculous.
A man got out of the fancy SUV and waved as he headed toward the house. He looked to be a few years older than Ryan, flecks of silver running through his dark hair.
“Hey there. You must be Ryan.”
“Yes.” Ryan continued to stand in the doorway but didn’t open the screen to invite the stranger in.
“I’m Paul Thorpe,” the man told him with a smile. “Chief of staff at Magnolia Community Hospital.”
Ryan’s gut clenched, but he made sure his features didn’t give away his reaction. “You’re young to make chief.”
Paul shrugged. “I’ve worked at the hospital for my whole career, and until recently, we weren’t a big draw for younger health-care workers. Things are changing around here, and your reputation precedes you, Dr. Sorensen.”
“Ryan. I’m on vacation at the moment, and no one calls me Doctor around here.” Which wasn’t exactly true. Both Meredith and her would-be suitor had called him Doc, and it hadn’t bothered him. But the way Paul Thorpe said his name was loaded with implications Ryan preferred to ignore.
“Vacation,” the other man repeated. “Interesting. Okay, then. Would you mind if I came in for a few minutes?”
Ryan shook his head. “Not a good time.”
Paul’s warm hazel eyes narrowed. “David Parthen speaks highly of you, and I’ve read the articles about your heroism during the active-shooter event.”
Event. What an inconsequential word for five minutes that had destroyed so many lives. “I wasn’t the hero,” he said, then stepped out onto the porch, careful not to reveal his limp. He was suddenly burning up, and he needed to feel the cool breeze. “Somehow I don’t think this is a social call.”
“We’re starting a mobile health clinic to service the area,” Paul told him without preamble. “There are a lot of longtime residents in rural communities who don’t like coming to a medical center for treatment. We want to be able to offer preventative care to those folks as well as urgent-care services.”
“Good for you.” Ryan pressed two fingers to his forehead. Damn it, he once again sounded like a royal jackass. “It’s an important resource, but I’m not sure what it has to do with me.”
“My girlfriend spearheaded the initiative, and we’ve raised enough money to outfit a van with the necessary equipment and started distributing flyers to local churches and stores. Until we secure funding, the doctors and nurses who staff the clinic will have to work on a volunteer basis. David suggested that you might have some time on your hands during your...” Paul glanced at Ryan’s left leg “...vacation.”
Ryan reached out a hand to grasp the wood railing. He hoped the action seemed casual and not like he needed to ground himself from the flurry of emotions that swirled through him at the thought of practicing medicine in any capacity. “Not sure my schedule will allow time for that.” His voice remained steady, even though he guessed Paul Thorpe recognized the lie for what it was.
“Think about it,” the other man said without missing a beat. “I also was hoping to talk to you about potential sources of funding for the project.”
Ryan’s gaze sharpened. Either David had blabbed way more than was appropriate, or this local doctor had done his homework.
“I’m not connected to the foundation,” he said simply.
“You’re on the board of directors,” Paul reminded him as if Ryan could forget.
“In name only,” Ryan clarified. It was odd to be discussing the charitable organization started by Duffy Howard, his grandfather—who made his money in the early days of the technology boom—standing on this dilapidated porch in a Podunk town. Very few people in DC knew about his connection to the Howard Family Foundation, which was exactly how Ryan wanted it. His father was a carpenter by trade, living a quiet life before meeting and quickly marrying Gillian Howard, the only daughter of one of the richest men in the country. Peter Sorensen refused to take anything from his in-laws and insisted that both Ryan and his sister, Emma, make their own way in the world without relying on family connections.
The difference between his maternal grandparents’ wealth and the modest way his father dictated their family live had been a source of friction in the house all through Ryan’s childhood. He could remember a huge, enclosed trampoline being delivered for his tenth birthday and his dad forcing him to donate it to a local community center. His mom had tried to support her husband’s wishes, but Ryan knew that the tension with her parents and extended family took its toll.
He also understood that the kind of wealth his mom’s family had made him different from most other people and that despite having worked hard to make his own way, it was easier for others to assume he’d grown up with a silver spoon feeding him every advantage in life.
“We’ve put together a strong, necessary program in the mobile van.” Paul looked out over the rolling grass that surrounded the cottage. “We already qualify for the health-care grant the Howard Family Foundation offers each year, but it always helps to have someone on the inside put in a good word.”
“I’m not an insider,” Ryan answered automatically.
Paul sighed and pulled a business card out of his back pocket. “Just consider helping out in whatever way you feel comfortable.” He handed the crisp white card to Ryan. “My cell number is on the back along with the hospital’s website. There’s a schedule of where the mobile medical center will be over the next few weeks. Right now, we only have the staff to take it out once a week. We need more volunteers.” He took a step closer. “We could use you, Dr. Sorensen.”
“I’ll think about it,” Ryan said grudgingly. He didn’t want to think about medicine or people in need or his family or all the ways he’d failed when a friend had needed him most.
He wanted to escape, but that didn’t seem possible.
Paul Thorpe clapped him on the shoulder as he headed for his SUV again. “This is a great community,” he called. “Getting involved could take your mind off things.”
Ryan pocketed the business card and turned for the house without answering. What did that man know about his mind? If the good doctor had any idea of the internal torment that played over and over in Ryan’s mind like a needle stuck on scratched vinyl, he’d grab that card back and rip it into a dozen scraps of paper.
Ryan had gone into emergency medicine because he wanted the challenge and variety of working on the front line. He liked the adrenaline and the pace and the way he could take care of people without having to really know them.
He knew what that said about his lack of depth, his lack of heart, some people would say. Up until now, he could manage around that. He was a skilled physician. As long as he kept things moving and coordinated all the aspects of his emergency department, none of the rest of it mattered.
It would in a town like Magnolia. He’d grown up in a small town. He knew the drill and had no desire to get involved with anyone here.
Not entirely true. He had far too much desire when it came to Meredith Ventner, which was why after one dinner, he’d thought it best to keep his distance.
It was the smart decision for both of them.
But as he closed the front door to the house and listened to Paul drive away, the walls seemed to be closing in on him. He’d had his first panic attack a few days after the shooting, so he knew what was happening.
The hospital counselor they’d forced him to talk to had given him physical and mental exercises to deal with the anxiety. Breathing, meditation and visualization were the counselor’s preferred methods of mitigating panic.
Ryan tended to think whiskey worked as a more effective cure, but acid burned in his stomach at the thought of another night drinking himself into oblivion and the throbbing headache that would greet him the following morning.
He closed his eyes and focused on the breath moving in and out of his lungs. Even after several minutes, anxiety continued to pummel him. Grabbing his keys from the counter, he headed out the front door again, the screen banging behind him.
He got in his car without a clear destination in mind. Maybe he’d drive down the coast. Maybe he’d find a local bar and drink himself silly in a new place.
But minutes later he parked in front of Meredith’s barn. Dust swirled around the tires as he climbed out of the car. He’d left home without his cane again, and his leg protested the speed of his movements.
He welcomed the pain. Lately it was the only thing that let him know he could still feel anything.
Meredith appeared in the barn’s open doorway a moment later.
“Hey.” He raised a hand in greeting. “I was wondering if you could use some help.”
An emotion he couldn’t name flashed in her gaze, and disappointment cascaded through him as she gave a barely perceptible shake of her head.
“We can always use more help,” a voice said from behind him. He glanced over to see a teenage girl with long blond hair and wire-rimmed glasses. “Meredith is finishing up her weekly obedience class, so I can get you started.” The girl looked toward Meredith. “That’s okay, right?”
“Have him exercise the dogs,” she called. “We have about ten more minutes of class.” She disappeared again without meeting his gaze.
Ryan hadn’t noticed when he pulled in but now realized that his car wasn’t the only one in the parking lot. Four other vehicles were parked in a row along the barn’s exterior.
“She does dog training, too?” he asked as the girl approached.
The teenager nodded. “Right now, it’s only for people who adopt from us. But she could definitely get more clients if she wanted them. Heck, Mer could star in her own reality show. She’s that good.”
Ryan smiled at the adoration clear in the girl’s tone. He certainly understood why she’d be in awe of Meredith.
“I’m Shae.” The girl stuck out her hand. “You must be the neighbor who stopped by to help.”
“Ryan.” He lifted a brow. “How was the physics test?”
“Impossible,” she answered with a grimace. “But I still got an A.”
“That’s impressive.”
She led him toward the far side of the barn. “I want to study some kind of science or engineering in college. Or maybe veterinary medicine. I could come back here and work with Meredith once she expands.”
“What kind of expansion does she have planned?”
“Big-time stuff. More training classes and education. She plans to renovate the barn and start a therapy-dog program. It’s going to be awesome if it works.”
The image of Meredith asleep at her desk with textbooks piled in front of her appeared in his mind. “She’s going to need a lot more help to make all of that a reality.”
“Mostly she needs money,” Shae told him. “Niall left everything in a pretty bad way. I didn’t know the guy, but my mom says he was a big deal back in the day. It’s cool to inherit a place like this, but not if the cost of it runs her into the ground.”
Curiosity thrummed along Ryan’s nerve endings. In the time they’d spent together, Meredith had revealed a few things about herself but nothing as personal as her history with this property.
“You can toss them the ball.” Shae handed him a plastic lacrosse stick with a tennis ball cradled in the pocket. She greeted the half-dozen dogs dancing around them as they entered the gated pasture. “Sometimes they lose the balls, so there are extras in the bin inside the barn if you need more.”
“Who was Niall?” he asked as he chucked the ball as far as he could. The dogs gave chase without a moment’s hesitation.
“Niall Reed.”
“The artist?” Ryan wasn’t overly familiar with the painter, although he’d heard of him. Schmaltzy landscapes that made better greeting-card illustrations than real art as far as what Ryan had seen.
“He was Meredith’s dad. I mean, she has her other dad still but found out about being Niall’s daughter after he died last year. Along with her two sisters. It’s kind of complicated.”
“I guess,” Ryan agreed. “And she inherited this place from Niall?”
Shae looked uncomfortable, as if she realized she might have already shared more than her boss would want her to. “I don’t really know the details. You can ask Meredith. I need to go check on the cats before I head home for the night. Nice to meet you, Ryan.”
“You too, Shae.” The small herd of dogs came barreling back toward him, an Australian shepherd in the lead. The dog dropped the tennis ball at his feet, so Ryan scooped it up and sent it flying again.
He tried to figure out how to learn more about Meredith’s background without appearing overly interested. For the life of him, he had no idea why he was interested in the first place.
What he did know was that fifteen minutes hanging out at the rescue and all his anxiety about the conversation with Paul Thorpe had disappeared. It was virtually impossible to stay in a bad mood while surrounded by dogs that were so clearly thrilled by any attention he gave them. He hadn’t owned a pet since he’d moved out of his parents’ house for college. His current life didn’t seem conducive to taking on a pet, but he wondered if that was an excuse he used for his unwillingness to commit to anything other than his job.
He glanced toward the main entrance to the barn when he heard the first car pull away. There was a better than average chance that Meredith would have sent him away if Shae hadn’t intervened.
But he didn’t want to be sent away. He might not understand why being at the rescue calmed him, but there was no use denying it. And he was going to need a way to stay busy so he wouldn’t feel guilty about ignoring Paul’s request for help with the mobile medical unit. If that kind of busy included scooping poop and chucking balls all day, then so be it.
MEREDITH FELT RYAN’S approach behind her as she stood with Trinity Marshall and Biscuit, the goldendoodle Trinity and her daughter had adopted a month earlier.
Or maybe she realized he was heading her way due to Trinity’s reaction. The woman’s pale blue eyes widened, and she automatically fluffed her already expertly styled hair.
“No wonder you’re so dedicated,” Trinity said with a soft laugh, “if that’s the kind of volunteers you attract.”
“My dedication has nothing to do with him.” Meredith kept her features neutral as she turned toward Ryan.
“They lost the ball,” he said, holding up the empty lacrosse stick. “Shae told me there are more in the barn.”
“My sweet Biscuit loves to play fetch,” Trinity said, stepping forward and introducing herself to Ryan.
After an awkward moment of silence, they all glanced down at the dog, who was sprawled on his back in the dirt, private bits on full display. Biscuit loved eating leather shoes and surfing any available trash can. Chasing balls wasn’t high on his list of favorite pastimes.
“He’s a handsome boy. Seems like a real live wire,” Ryan said, and Meredith struggled to keep a straight face.
Trinity beamed. “I adopted him after my no-good husband left me for his massage therapist. Biscuit is way better company than Troy ever was, and Meredith’s helping me train him to be a perfect gentleman.”
“Well, Biscuit’s lucky you found him.” He crouched down to scratch the dog’s belly, and when he winced, Meredith noticed he wasn’t using his cane today. Biscuit stretched, then flipped over and nudged Ryan’s hand.
“I’m the lucky one,” Trinity said. “Let me know...” she eased closer to Ryan “...if you’re ever interested in getting together for a game of fetch.”
A laugh burst from Meredith, and she quickly coughed and clasped a hand over her mouth to disguise it. Trinity overlooked it, her attention laser focused on Ryan.
He definitely noticed, quickly straightening and taking a step away. “I’ll keep that in mind, but I’m going to go find another tennis ball.”
“If not fetch,” Trinity said to Meredith as he moved away, “maybe he’d be interested in a round or two of hide the sausage.”
This time Meredith didn’t bother to conceal her laugh. Based on the way Ryan’s shoulders stiffened, he’d heard Trinity’s not-so-subtle whisper.
“Keep working on Sit and Stay this week with Biscuit,” she told her lustful client. “He’s got to learn basic obedience.” She put a hand on Trinity’s sleeve. “And no more sexual innuendos with my volunteers, especially when I know you don’t mean it.”
Trinity pouted. “If Troy can poke his business in indiscriminate honeypots, why can’t I do the same?”
“Because you want more for your honeypot,” Meredith said, shaking her head. “You deserve better.”
“But you said he’s a doctor.” Trinity gestured to the barn. “What’s wrong with being interested in a doctor?”
“Nothing,” Meredith said quietly, “if you’re getting to know a person for the right reasons.”
“I should pay you extra for the pep talks.” Trinity gave her a watery smile. “Come on, Biscuit. There’s a new season of 90 Day Fiancé starting later. We don’t want to miss it.”
Meredith watched Trinity load the dog into her car, then turned toward the barn. There was absolutely nothing wrong with being interested in a doctor, she told herself, but she wished she wasn’t the one so affected by Ryan. She needed to think rationally and ignore her impulses. She’d given up men for a reason and, despite the newspaper article that claimed otherwise, Meredith wasn’t pining for love. Definitely not with a guy who was only in her life for a few weeks. Too bad logic and reason seemed to be in short supply at the moment!