Champagne and Lemon Drops: A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance (4 page)

God, she needed a distraction. A good one.
Or else a good strong drink. Maybe both.

She rested her forehead on the desk's cool
surface and lolled it back and forth. She lifted her head and let
it drop back onto the desk with a loud thunk. It was impossible to
think. Impossible to imagine a day in her life without Oz. Without
him she had nothing but a ratty old car that depended on him to
keep it running and a job where her patients were still irked at
her for Oz being too busy to come dance with them during his Friday
lunch breaks.

Her weekends were going to be intolerable.
Every weekend for the past two and a half years they'd done
something together whether it was hiking up the local mountains,
cozying up with popcorn and a movie, paddling around the local pond
to see how close they could get to the ducks, or trying to outdo
each other on their game system. Weekends were sacred reconnection
time. Now she would see him on Sundays, for one hour, while they
drank coffee at Benny's Big Burger and discussed whether Oz was
ready to get back together or not.

What if he was never ready? What if this
break was... No. She couldn't think about it. Positive thoughts
only.

Someone rapped lightly at her office door
and it creaked open, its latch failing to catch when she banged it
shut minutes ago. She snapped upright, sending papers sliding in
all directions as they dropped from her clammy forehead. She
attempted to pull herself together while pushing her curls off her
face, spinning her chair to face the visitor. The sudden head lift
combined with a spin put her off balance and she went to lean on
her armrest, but missed, sending her sprawling onto the floor. She
landed hard beside the occupied Italian loafers just inside her
doorway.

"Whoa there." Dr. Leham placed a hand under
Beth's arm and helped her stand.

"Sorry! New chair." They both glanced at her
worn chair. So obviously not new. She gave an uneasy chuckle.
"Right. I meant um... that I switched the one I use in the common
room with this one. And... hi."

"Are you okay to stand?" he asked. She held
her breath as his ice-blue eyes zipped over her, taking in every
detail as he continued to hold her. He gave her a slight,
questioning smile, and she closed her eyes against memories as a
familiar scent drifted over her: the same cologne Oz wore on
special occasions. Reminders of him were going to be everywhere,
attacking her at irregular, unexpected intervals. Bastard. It was a
guerilla attack to the heart over and over again. She bent over and
placed her hands on her knees.

Dammit. This break better not last longer
than 24 hours or she was going to be an extremely pathetic basket
case.

Dr. Leham gently placed a hand on her back.
"Maybe you should sit down?"

She aimed her butt and plopped into her
chair. She sucked in a deep breath only to be hit by his cologne
again. "The hospital is supposed to be scent free." You big
meany.

He sat in the chair across from her. "Sorry,
are you sensitive to my cologne?"

Hello, understatement.

She waved away his concerns. "I'm fine,
really. Sorry." She stuck out her hand and introduced herself. Why
wasn't he meeting her eyes? Usually when a man had this issue his
gaze was stuck about a foot lower than her forehead.

"Dr. Nash Leham," he said, giving her hand a
brisk shake. He reached for her head with his left hand and she
pulled back. What the hell was he doing? Quick as lightning he
pulled something off her forehead. He studied the googly eye in his
palm. Still serious, he carefully handed it to her. "I've heard of
a third eye, but I didn't realize it was a googly eye. I thought it
was mythical." He handed her the eye. "You're inner child was
showing."

Beth burst out laughing. Damn. How did this
man take her from bouncing on the bottom to laughter within
seconds? She pushed her chair back until it hit her desk. Normally
she didn't mind the smallness of her office when she was chewing
the fat with Katie during breaks, but this man was seriously making
it feel crowded in a way that took her off guard.

She adopted a mask of
professionalism and waited for him to explain why he'd come by. As
the hospital's recreational therapist she was often seen as the
softie with the fluff job. Some of the city doctors who came out to
Blueberry Springs as part of the Rural Doctors Program actually
laughed when they discovered her job wasn't a volunteer position.
Which was so not funny. Her job was as important as theirs. Well,
maybe not quite
exactly
as important, but you couldn't just shove the
elderly and infirm into the hospital's attached nursing home and
ignore them. They needed a program director so their minds stayed
sharp, their moods remained buoyant, and their health stayed
stable.

And she was that person. The diploma on her
office wall proved it.

She waited for Dr. Leham to speak and worked
on emitting a cold, confident, business manner rather than the
emotional defeat she felt. She could do this. No personal life.
Just thoughts about work. This handsome doctor was a serious,
top-notch go-getter who had a killer gut instinct and had been
turning heads around town—for both professional and unprofessional
reasons—since his arrival a few weeks ago.

City meat. That's what the nurses called
him. And for the first time, meeting him up close instead of just
glimpses of him hurrying off to see patients, she could see the
appeal. While the opposite of Oz, Dr. Leham was still handsome with
his blue eyes, slim build, and perfect hair. But he was more like a
wiry, blond Bradley Cooper with those sharp, light-colored eyes
whereas Oz was like a tall Hugh Jackman. Both good looking, but
totally different.

And Dr. Leham wasn't Oz. She bit her lower
lip to keep it from trembling. Son of a bitch. There he was,
sneaking into her thoughts again.

"Uh, is this a good time?" Dr. Leham asked,
furrowing his brow. He tucked his clipboard to his chest, one hand
at the ready to push himself out of the chair.

She cleared her throat and
smiled. She could do this and
not
cry. "It's fine." She rubbed her fingertips over
the bare spot on her ring finger. The ring's absence stung like a
burn.

"I see," he said, his eyes moving from her
hands. "Tough day?"

She let out a brave snort, her eyes
immediately filling with unshed tears. She turned away to dab at
her eyes and a tissue popped up in her periphery. His gesture
opened her floodgates and she rolled her eyes at herself. So much
for holding it together and impressing him with her savvy business
manner. Now she'd definitely be marked as the softie with the cush
job. At least he was only there on a short-term contract with the
program and would be bound for the city as soon as his commitment
was fulfilled.

The more the tears fell, the more humiliated
and embarrassed she felt which, in turn, made more tears join the
chorus. She blew her nose and another tissue appeared to her left.
She snatched it from the air.

"Do you want me to come back later?"

She shook her head. Doctors never came by to
talk to her, so if he'd been paging her and had come all the way to
the continuing care wing, it must be important. She took several
long, slow breaths and thought about how strong her sister had been
as a teen. If Cynthia could persevere, so could she. She would
channel those sister genes and be strong. One last deep breath and
she turned to see Dr. Leham watching her with so much concern that
the tears almost returned full-force.

"Breakups suck." Dr. Leham said softly.

"It's just a break," Beth replied
quickly.

"Oh, well. That's not too bad then?" He
quirked his brow and gave a half smile. "A reassessment of
priorities."

"We were engaged." She blinked back tears.
Breaks were the promise ring of breakups. An IOU that meant one
day, when the timing was right and Oz had his courage shored up
about him, he might just go ahead and break up with her for real. A
small wail escaped and her brave front disintegrated into tears.
She buried her face in her hands, cheeks burning with
humiliation.

Dr. Leham patted her shoulder. She peered
through the cracks between her fingers and saw another tissue being
offered.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Her head popped up, tears slowing.
"Why?"

He blinked, caught. "Um. Well, because it
sucks."

Like he knew anything about broken hearts.
She'd bet her Volvo a guy like Dr. Leham was always on the giving
end. Because only crazy women would break up with a nice, handsome
doctor. And there weren't that many women out there who were that
kind of crazy.

"It's like your world stops," he continued.
"Days don't make sense. You can't figure out what everyone can be
so happy about when you're so miserable."

Holy crap. This man understood.

"You know," he said, "when my ex-wife left
me, I got into exercise."

"You're divorced?" There must be more crazy
women than she'd anticipated.

Nash laughed at Beth's expression. "Yeah. I
know. I'm kind of young to have been through all that already, but
she wasn't prepared to deal with my work dedication and I wasn't
prepared to change." He gave a small shrug.

"I imagine," she said slowly, "being a
doctor involves a lot of long hours and last minute changes to your
personal plans."

He smiled. "But it's a heart job." He tapped
his chest. "It's good for the soul being able to help people."

"Yeah." She got what a heart job was. Being
a recreational therapist in continuing care was soothing. It gave
her hope seeing that many people had good, long lives and bringing
a little sunshine and meaning their way with glue and a couple of
googly eyes was fulfilling—even though most people considered her
nothing more than a glorified babysitter.

Silence stretched between them as they took
each other in, deciding which way to take the conversation.

"Anyway," he began, "cardiovascular activity
naturally releases endorphins and serotonin into the bloodstream
which can elevate moods for prolonged periods of time. Plus," he
gave her a wink, "it's a great way to get back at the ex—looking
all buff."

And buff he was. His slight build had that
athletic strength to it, his shoulders broad although not nearly as
much as Oz's.

"So, Dr. Leham?"

"Call me Nash," he said. "Please."

"Okay... Nash." She liked the sound of
that.

"Can I call you Beth?"

She gave him a look. "Of course. Everyone
does." City boys were weird. She bet he was the kind of guy who
asked his dates if he could kiss them goodnight instead of just
going for it.

He gave her an apologetic shrug. "I'm still
figuring out Blueberry Springs. People are quite casual, even in
the work environment." He leaned back and crossed his arms, his
clipboard balanced on his lap.

"Yeah, we're a bit more laid back than the
city." Having spent two years in the nearest city, Dakota, getting
her diploma, she understood how the man must feel. Those were two
quirky years she never planned to repeat. If she had found it
difficult moving to the impersonal city, she could only imagine how
Nash must feel being thrust into a very personal and
in-your-business town like Blueberry Springs. "Plus, there's no
need for formalities, I'm just the rec therapist."

"Nonsense. It's a very important part of our
long-term care commitment plan. I've heard good things about your
program and the variety you offer. That's why I sought you out,
actually." He leaned forward, full of brisk professionalism as he
handed her his clipboard, the spell of casualness broken. "Reggie
Max is a new patient of mine entering continuing care. I'd like to
share my treatment plan, his health history, as well as a possible
recreational therapy plan that will benefit him both
psychologically and physically. I've listed a few of the activities
I feel would be most beneficial."

Beth sat back, clipboard in
hand. Just like that, the we're-at-work wall had come up. Not that
he had been anything other than professional before, it was more
that he'd returned to really,
really
professional. He was now very
much Dr. Leham, not Nash.

She kind of liked Nash.

Dr. Leham continued, "He is a type 2
diabetic and has been since he was—"

"In his forties. Yes, I know." It was only
recreational therapy for crying out loud. Usually doctors let her
run with it knowing their patients weren't going to get any wilder
than a weekly dance session that no longer included Oz, chair yoga,
tai chi, a few crafts, games, and sing-alongs. "My gran is looking
forward to his arrival." Beth rubbed her eyes, suddenly feeling
exhausted. "They've been dating for a few years."

"Oh. I see. Well..." he began
uncertainly.

"I have a bit of a rec plan laid out for him
already. He's partial to card games so I'm thinking I'll reinstate
bridge on Thursdays."

"Oh." He paused. "Am I out of line? In
Dakota we always—"

"No, no," she said quickly,
"I would love some input." She hesitated. She'd never actually
worked out a plan with doctors other than during her college
practicum. Out here the doctors had always been like,
Go for it, Beth. One less thing for me to worry
about. It's just crafts.

Nash leaned forward and began pointing out
various aspects of his rec plans clipped to the board. She
surreptitiously inhaled his cologne and wondered what it was that
men really wanted. Was it normal for them to act like they wanted
one thing and then whip around and say they didn't? And was this
pause in their relationship merely a precursor of worse things to
come?