“Am I gay, you mean?”
“That’s not what I asked, but—”
“No. I’m not.”
“That’s a relief.” She realized that thought hadn’t stayed in her head and added, “I mean, for the single women in Blackwater Lake who went to all the trouble of giving you their phone numbers.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve been watching them hand you slips of paper too small to be a résumé or autobiographical novel. And I did catch a glimpse of numbers.”
“You’re very observant.”
“Attention to detail is the hallmark of the hospitality business,” she said, irritated at how much she sounded like her father. “So, how does someone who looks so good on paper escape personal entanglements unscathed?”
The twinkle in his eyes vanished and the warm cocoa color turned almost black. “Who says I did?”
“So you have a story.” It wasn’t a question.
“Doesn’t everyone? You go first.”
“Nice try.” She shook her head.
If he was curious he could just Google her. There was plenty documented on the internet that she’d never live down no matter how hard she tried. Or he could ask the hotel staff. They’d be happy to share.
And judge. The employees had made up their minds about her based on tabloid stories and entertainment gossip. They’d decided she was too shallow, too spoiled, too short and too blonde to be taken seriously.
Why should Ben McKnight be any different?
Chapter Two
“I don’t think it’s broken, but I’ll know for sure after I look at the X-ray.”
“The garage is really busy right now so I’m holding you to that not-broken thing.”
Ben hadn’t expected to start the week treating anyone in his family, but he had been wrong. Sydney McKnight sat on the paper-covered exam table cradling her right hand. His little sister was a pretty, brown-eyed brunette who loved fixing cars as much as he liked fixing people. As a little girl she’d followed their father around McKnight’s Automotive and learned from the best mechanic in Montana.
“You know,” he said, “if you wanted some big brother time, we could have done lunch. It would have been a lot less painful for you.”
“Not if you made me buy.” She winced as he probed the swelling. “In my opinion, what this clinic really needs is a neurologist. You need to have your head examined, find out why it’s so big.”
“Seriously, Syd. This is nasty. What happened?”
“An accident at the garage.” She shrugged. “There was a wrench involved. My hand slipped. Occupational hazard.”
“And aren’t you lucky big brother the doctor is back to take care of you?”
“We’ve done all right.”
Without you, he thought. Ben knew she hadn’t meant to make him feel guilty for leaving, but he did anyway. His father had encouraged him to do what was necessary for his future the same way he’d nurtured Sydney’s love affair with cars. Eventually Ben had gone, but now he was back. Where he wanted to be.
The exam room door opened and nurse Ginny Irwin walked in. She was in her late fifties and had blue eyes that missed nothing. Her silver hair was cut in a short, nofuss style. It suited her no-nonsense attitude.
“Hey, Syd,” she said.
“Hi, Ginny.” His sister started to lift her hand in greeting, then winced and lowered it.
“I’ve emailed the X-rays to the radiologist at the hospital and it will be a while before we get the report. But here are the films, Ben.” Ginny had known him since he was a kid and didn’t feel the need to address him as Doctor.
He liked that. Adding Doctor to his name didn’t make him a better medical practitioner. No polite protocols or assembly-line medicine, just solid personal care to, sometimes literally, get people back on their feet.
“Let’s take a look.” He put the films on the lighted view box. He wasn’t a radiologist, but in his expert opinion there was no break, although he took his time studying all the small bones, just to be sure.
“Don’t keep me in suspense,” Syd said.
“I have to look at the full range of densities. It can go from white to black and I need to evaluate the contrast ratio for a diagnosis.”
“Please don’t go all medical techno-speak on me,” Sydney begged.
“It’s not broken.”
“Good.” Ginny almost smiled, then looked sternly at the patient. “I don’t want to see you back in here, Sydney Marie.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’d salute, but this Pillsbury Doughboy hand would just punish me.”
“In so many ways. Take care,” Ginny said, just before slipping out the door.
“She scares me,” his sister said. “So I’ll ask you. Can I go back to work?”
“Really?” He folded his arms over his chest. “I’m the weak link? Do we need to get Ginny back in here to keep you in line, Sydney Marie?”
“I’m happy to stay in line if you’ll just tell me what I have to do so I can get back to work.”
“Take the rest of the day off. Use ice and over-the-counter pain meds. When the swelling goes down you can work.”
“That’s it? You’re not going to do anything? No quick fix? What kind of doctor are you?”
“The kind who replaces hips and fixes broken bones, sometimes with surgery. I have a piece of paper that says it’s okay for me to do that.”
“Just asking. I guess you’ll come in handy for water-and snow-skiing seasons.” She settled her injured hand on her thigh. “Speaking of that…how do you like living at Blackwater Lake Lodge?”
The mention of his living arrangement turned his thoughts to the lady who was in charge of the place where he lived. This wasn’t the first time she’d crossed his mind and every time it happened, the thought was followed by a vague regret that she wouldn’t be around very long.
“Did I say something wrong?” Syd’s eyes narrowed.
“What? No. Why?”
“You look funny.”
“Define funny,” he said.
“I don’t know. Sort of goofy. Sappy. Like you walked down the hall at Blackwater Lake High and saw the girl you had a crush on.”
“Interesting diagnosis, Doctor.”
“Am I right about a woman being involved?” she persisted.
“Yes.”
“I’d clap my hands in excitement, but…” She looked ruefully at the puffy extremity. “Who is she? Anyone I know?”
“Do you know Camille Halliday?”
“Everyone knows her.” Syd’s expression said it wasn’t in a good way. “She’s the hotel heiress.”
“I know. Met her Saturday.” And he’d seen her again at dinner last night. He wondered if she was having another bad day.
“Are you aware that she has a certain reputation?”
“What kind of rep?”
“Partying.