his ex, and he didn’t want or need a woman like her anywhere around him. Way too many bad memories of her disgust of everything Country.
“But my sister does, in an array of colors for some odd reason. We wear the same size, so in that sense, I’d have to amend my answer and say yes. I have access to cowboy boots. Why? Are they part of the job description?”
“I’d have to say they are.”
She scooted up straight in her chair, crossing her fine legs under the table. “My sister never mentioned it.”
He felt certain this was the stickler. “Huh. Can’t figure why not. It’s what we wear.”
“Your office has a dress code?”
“Strictly enforced.” Not exactly true, but now he was desperate.
“Anything else I should know about?”
His mind raced to think of something, anything, that this temptation in heels might not like, but mud had once again settled in parts of his head and he couldn’t seem to come up with a thing.
He knew he could save himself a whole lotta grief if he simply hired Mrs. Abernathy, the seventy-year-old ex-nurse who had offered to take the job. Unfortunately, Kitty had already warned him not to do it. Mrs. Abernathy was inflexible in her ways and tone deaf. No way could she sing to his patients or run the office the way Kitty had set it up.
He wondered if Maggie could hold a tune. “We sometimes have to sing to the patients.”
“I don’t sing. Completely tone deaf.”
Her answer was his out. His escape hatch. His adios, amigo. Even Kitty would agree on this one.
Maggie stared at him, looking all pretty in the morning sun, and Blake had to admit a part of him wanted nothing more than to have her around for the next fifty years. But the danger of falling for someone so like his ex-wife meant grabbing the branding iron by the hot end, and he was not in the mood for another round of hurt.
Blake stalled for a time, pretending he was chewing on her answer, while he screwed up his flailing courage.
He had thought moving back to the family ranch in eastern Idaho with his dad and brothers would have slowed his life down, especially after living in L.A. for several years, but it had been nothing like that. When Blake had arrived in Briggs, he’d hit the ground running, and he’d been going nonstop ever since. Maggie Daniels was the kind of woman who would only tangle up his spurs, and at this point, he wasn’t sure he was up for the challenge.
Just then his phone chimed. “Excuse me,” he said. The phone’s screen illuminated the name Lindsey Luntz. Her thirteen-year-old son, Chad, was a patient of Blake’s. Chad was having difficulty adjusting to his new braces and he probably needed a “cheer up, buckaroo” talk, which would take some time, knowing Chad. Blake took the call, but asked Mrs. Luntz to hold.
“I have to take this,” he told Maggie. Then, as though he didn’t have anything under his hat but hair, he said, “See you in the morning. Eight-thirty?”
She nodded.
“Kitty can tell you the rest.”
“Thanks,” she said.
Feeling muddy-headed again, he tried to get his wits honed back to concentrate on the waiting Mrs. Luntz.
Blake watched as Maggie pushed herself up from the chair, gave him a little smile, turned and walked away.
He stared after her as she sashayed into the doughnut shop. The woman had one of those walks that made a man stare—hips gently swaying, elegant legs careful of each step in her fancy high heels, straight back and hair that glistened in the sunlight. Desire swept through him.
His breath caught in his throat and he found it difficult to wrest his gaze from Maggie until he heard Mrs. Luntz calling his name. “Doc Blake? Are you there? Doctor? Darn these phones.”
* * *
MAGGIE WALKED INTO Holey Rollers and ordered a double cappuccino, dry, and a blueberry muffin. She wanted something decadent with sprinkles to celebrate the occasion, but her hips didn’t need it. Once she’d turned thirty, everything she ate seemed to stick to her hips.
Despite that misfortune, Maggie knew she still had it, could still turn a man’s head when she wanted to. The good doctor had proven that. She had seen the attraction in his eyes. Heard it in his voice.
Sure, she had other job applications out, but the likelihood of any of them coming through was remote. Still, she felt she had to tell him the truth and rely on her looks to get him to hire her anyway.
Maggie couldn’t hide the fact that the overly judgmental world labeled her as beautiful. She didn’t dwell on it, rather, it was a truth she had come to accept. Still, more than anything, she had always wanted to be treated like a normal girl—a buddy other women could confide in, or a girlfriend to some sweet guy who loved to cuddle on the sofa, eat popcorn drenched in real butter and watch old movies.
Regrettably, she had little experience with any of those things.
Ever since she could remember, she had been the outcast in any group of girls, the cufflink on the man with power and the catch for the guy who wanted to elevate his social status.
Her only friend—her only confidant and ally—during all of the insanity of her life was her sister, Kitty.
Maggie thought Kitty was amazingly beautiful, more beautiful than Maggie could ever be. Apparently, the world hadn’t caught on to that fact. And because of the oversight, Kitty had led a relatively ordinary life. A life Maggie hungered to call her own, especially after her latest breakup with Brad Allen, the lying, cheating dog of a man who’d had the nerve to propose to her while he was sleeping with his secretary.
Once Maggie caught them, she was out of the relationship and out of the job she loved. She had worked hard to become vice president of marketing for Silicon Systems, but there was no way she could stay after she’d learned the truth. Brad was executive V.P. of the entire company. No getting around the scandal.
So, after nearly four months of unanswered resumes, she finally had a job, albeit a temp job in a town so small it had taken three drive-bys just to find the right exit. It was a paycheck nonetheless.
The girl behind the counter turned to Maggie. “That’ll be three dollars and sixty-five cents.” Her name tag read Amanda. She wore her mahogany hair extra-short, which accentuated her bright red lipstick and dangly earrings. Maggie guessed that Amanda was closing in on eighteen.
Maggie leaned in across the counter, certain that Amanda must have forgotten to ring up one of her items. “That was a double cappuccino and a muffin.”
Amanda rolled her eyes and leaned in closer, as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear. “I know. Like, my boss raised the price on some of the pastries last week, thinking nobody would notice. I told her people were going to complain, but, like, did she listen? Noo. Nobody ever listens to me. I bet you never get that, especially wearing that suit, huh?”
Maggie smiled, noticed everyone clad in casual clothing and felt completely out of place. The tiny shop was crowded with customers hovering in front of the glass doughnut counter, desperately trying to make up their minds while three other employees in light brown aprons with the Holey Rollers logo emblazoned across their chests, eagerly waited to fill their sugar fix. An assortment of doughnuts, muffins and other pastries, all of which looked incredible, filled every inch of the glass display, with the extras stacked on metal baking shelves along the walls. The shop smelled sweet, with just the right amount of freshly brewed coffee scent wafting through the air.
“I had a job interview.”
“With Doc Blake?”
“You mean Doctor Granger?”
“Everyone calls him Doc Blake. It’s easier.”
Maggie liked the nickname. It fit him. “Yes.”
Amanda