The Doctor’s Irreplaceable Love (MacFarland Ranch #10)

Chapter One

Shelley tidied her desk and looked around the reception area. She did her best to keep things neat throughout the day, but it amazed her how much mess people made while they waited for their appointments.

Trip had told her repeatedly that it wasn’t her responsibility—Joan came in to clean every evening after clinic hours were over. But Shelley felt bad. Joan was an older woman, and she had enough to do just keeping the place clean. Shelley liked to at least leave the place tidy for her.

She wandered around, straightening chairs and returning magazines to the pile. She stopped in front of the window and stared out at the mountains. It had been a beautiful day. And thank goodness the days were getting longer now. Winter in Montana wasn’t for the faint of heart, but she’d survived it.

She turned back to her desk. What she needed to decide now was whether she was going to stick around for the summer—or even the spring.

When she’d first arrived in Livingston, she’d only planned to stay for a couple of weeks. For the last couple of years, she’d enjoyed living as something of a nomad. She wasn’t like the kids who traveled the world, working on their laptops at the beach. But since leaving her old career—leaving her marriage and her life behind—she’d enjoyed staying on the move.

She was fortunate that she didn’t need to work to survive; she’d invested well over the years. Of course, she took jobs here and there when she found them—just because she had money didn’t mean she needed to use it all without replenishing her funds.

She hadn’t expected to work here in Montana, though. She’d thought of this stop as more of a vacation. But that had changed purely by chance.

She’d been chatting with the girl behind the counter at the local pharmacy. The girl had explained, at great length, that they’d been having difficulty lately getting prescriptions from the local doctor’s office. She’d assured Shelley that the doctor himself was perfectly competent and a very nice guy, but he’d been struggling for months to find someone who could fill in as a receptionist. Apparently, the woman who’d worked for him for years had recently retired, and his attempts to replace her had been spectacular disasters.

After leaving the pharmacy, Shelley had decided to stop by the doctor’s office to see if he wanted temporary help. She smiled at the memory—she’d walked in to find Trip standing behind the reception desk, looking frazzled. It seemed he couldn’t even work his own appointment system.

He’d given her a harried look and asked her to give him a few minutes while he tried to set up a follow-up appointment for an older woman who was waiting. When Shelley realized that Trip was just getting himself in deeper, she’d asked if he wanted her to take a look and see if she could help.

She would have understood if he’d refused—and now that she knew him better, she was surprised that he hadn’t. But he’d given her a frustrated nod of agreement. It hadn’t been hard to figure the system out, and within a couple of minutes, the older lady was leaving with a smile on her face and an appointment card in her hand.

Shelley hadn’t even needed to ask Trip for the job. He’d laughed and jokingly asked if she wanted one. He’d been shocked when she told him that, yes, that would work out well for her.

She checked her watch. They were supposed to finish at five on Fridays—but they never did.

Trip had told her again before his afternoon appointments that she was free to go whenever she was done for the day, but she didn’t like to leave until she knew he was finished. On Friday afternoons, he liked to book patients who needed a little more time. She loved that he didn’t rush them, and she had no problem sticking around in case she was needed.

This afternoon, his last appointment was with Jim Sheridan.

Shelley loved Jim. He was an old rancher, something of an institution in his own right. He was well-respected in the valley—everyone knew and loved him. Shelley adored him. He always had a smile and a kind word for everyone, and since she’d gotten to know him a little, he also had a wink for her.

Although he seemed popular and outgoing, Shelley suspected that he was lonely.

One afternoon, while waiting for his appointment, he’d told her his wife had died twelve years ago—and he still missed her. He owned, and from what Shelley could gather, still ran one of the largest ranches in the valley. Of course, he didn’t run it physically himself; he had a whole team who worked for him. But he was still very much the man in charge.

She had a feeling he might need to make a follow-up appointment when he came out, so she sat back at her computer to wait. It wasn’t as though she had anywhere else to be this evening.

She smiled to herself. She had made some friends here—good friends. Most of them were the girlfriends—if that was still a word they could use at their age—of Trip’s friends. There was a whole group of them, and they often invited her along to hang out. She enjoyed the women’s company, and when they all went out as a group with their men, she usually went along, too.

The thing was, she was the only single woman. And Trip was the only single guy. It was natural for them to pair up. And she wouldn’t deny that she enjoyed it. There were sparks between them. There had been since the beginning.

But… she wasn’t looking for anything. Neither was he.

Perhaps if they’d met under different circumstances—if she didn’t work for him—they might have had some fun together while she was here. But things hadn’t worked out that way.

It was all good. The way things were suited her just fine.

She looked up when the door to Trip’s office opened. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but she kind of wished things were different. That they had a chance.

But they didn’t.

She smiled when Jim came out of the office and made his way back to the desk.

“Looks like I’ll be seeing you again in a couple of weeks,” he said.

Shelley nodded warmly. “You know I’m happy to see you whenever.”

“I feel the same way, but I’d rather see you in the bakery than in here.”

Trip appeared in the doorway to his office and smiled at them. “We could all head down there now if you like, Jim.”

“You know, usually I’d take you up on that, but I have a few stops to make while I’m here in town. Maybe next Friday.”

Jim turned to Shelley. “You should take him up on the offer. Everyone else will be down there. You know what it’s like on Friday afternoons—they’ll all be catching up on the gossip and hanging out.”

“I think it’s a bit late for me,” Shelley said. “By the time I get down there, it’d be time to come back again.”

She knew that most of the valley’s residents met up at the bakery on Friday afternoons. The girls tended to meet up around three, though, and she was usually still here, working.

Jim turned and raised a bushy eyebrow at Trip. “You should take her down there.”

Trip shrugged. “I would if she wanted to go.”

Shelley laughed. “I’m fine, thanks. Let’s get your appointment set up so you can be on your way. You’ll need to get moving if you’ve still got stops to make in town; it’s almost five-fifteen.”

Jim tipped his hat at her before he left. “See you in a couple of weeks—if I don’t see you around.”

“I’ll look forward to it, Jim.”

When he was gone, Trip came and rested his elbows on the counter. “You know, you don’t need to hang around and wait until I finish.”

“And you know—or you should by now—I don’t mind.”

He smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Shelley held his gaze for a moment.

He was a good-looking guy. There was no denying that.

It baffled her that he was still single.

He was pretty much the definition of an eligible bachelor—former military, a doctor, a really great guy. Not to mention he was loaded. From what she’d seen of the women around here, she would have expected one of them to have snapped him up long ago.

He cocked an eyebrow, bringing her back to the moment—making her realize she was standing there, simply staring at him.

“What are you up to this evening?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Not a lot. How about you?”

Her tummy flipped over when he said, “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On you.” He grinned. “I have a proposition for you.”

She gripped the edge of the desk, grateful that he couldn’t see how white her knuckles were. “What kind of proposition?”

He chuckled. “Don’t look so worried. Maisie was over at my place again yesterday, cooking up a storm. You know what she’s like—she gets bored and decides I need to be fed. The only trouble is, she forgets there’s only me. I was wondering if you wanted to come over and help me eat my way through some of it.”

Shelley laughed. Maisie was Trip’s old housekeeper. Apparently, she’d worked for him for years, but she’d retired a while ago.

The only thing was, she didn’t seem to have the hang of retirement. She kept showing up at Trip’s house and, as he said, cooking for him.

When she didn’t reply, Trip straightened up and stepped back from the desk. “Sorry. You probably have other plans, don’t you?”

She really didn’t. There was no reason she shouldn’t spend the evening with him—at least, no reason other than the fact that she was finding it more and more difficult to resist her attraction to him.

When she’d first started working for him, it had been hard to ignore the sparks flying between them. They were compatible, no doubt about it, and boy, was there chemistry! But Shelley wasn’t looking to get involved with anyone. She really hadn’t intended to stay here for long.

From what she’d learned, Trip wasn’t looking to get involved with anyone either.

In fact, if she had to describe it, she would have said he blew hot and cold in the beginning. At the time, she was blowing on the hot side herself. As the weeks had gone by, she couldn’t exactly say her interest had cooled—it was more that her logic had kicked in.

It wouldn’t be a good idea.

He gave her a rueful smile. “Just because I don’t have any plans on a Friday night doesn’t mean you don’t, does it?”

She laughed. “It doesn’t necessarily mean the same thing, no. But we both know it’s true; I don’t have anything going on.”

He met her gaze and held it. Looking into his eyes, she couldn’t think of a single reason why she shouldn’t go.

When he raised his eyebrows, she laughed. “Okay, go on then. You talked me into it.”

He grinned. “Great. Are you ready?”

She locked the desk drawer and reached for her purse. “I am. I’ll follow you down there—I can stop at the grocery store and get us a decent bottle of wine.”

He gave her a stern look. “Are you trying to say my wines aren’t decent?”

She rolled her eyes. “No. I’d be a fool to suggest anything of the kind. I just want to feel like I’m contributing something.”

Trip laughed. “You are. Your company—that’s all I want. And besides, it’s not as though I’m going to spend hours cooking for us. It’s all already done. If you think about it, you’re doing both me and Maisie a favor. She’ll be happy to know you enjoyed what she cooked, and I’ll feel better that it’s not going to waste.”

He followed her to the front door and held it open for her. Once they were outside, she waited while he locked up.

“You don’t need to bring anything, Shelley. Just yourself. I’ll see you there.”

With that, he walked her to her car before heading to his SUV.

As she pulled out of the parking lot behind him, she smiled to herself.

She might give in to the occasional daydream about Trip—about what could happen between them—but when it came down to it, she was happy enough just spending an evening in his company.

~ ~ ~

As he approached the house, Trip kept one eye on the rearview mirror and felt himself relax when Shelley’s car emerged from the line of cottonwood trees by the creek. He knew she was following him, but until she crossed the creek, he wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t change her mind and turn around.

He didn’t know why, but he was the same way every time he invited her over.

He pulled around the back of the house and parked near the kitchen door, leaving the closest space for Shelley. When she pulled up next to him, he opened her door for her.

This wasn’t the first time she’d come over to hang out with him after work. They enjoyed each other’s company—she’d become a friend. He’d tried to convince himself that was all there was to it, but he hadn’t succeeded.

She’d thrown him off his stride since the first moment he met her.

He’d never forget seeing her walk into the clinic while he was wrestling with the appointment scheduler, trying to get Dorothea Claiborne set up. He’d felt like a fool, grappling with the computer system, when Shelley breezed in—looking all confident and competent and… Sexy as hell, if he wanted to be honest about it.

He frowned; he didn’t particularly want to be honest about that.

She climbed out of her car and followed him up the steps to the kitchen door.

Once they were inside, he asked, “Do you want a glass of my not-so-decent wine?”

She laughed. “I’d love one—even though we both know it’s far too good for the likes of me.”

He made a face. “That’s not true, and you know it. We both know that I have a whole cellar full of the stuff and no one to share it with. At least no one who appreciates it,” he added. “I mean, Travis will have a glass with me every now and then, just out of pity. But you know as well as I do that he’s much happier with a beer.”

Shelley laughed again. He knew that she loved his best friend, Travis—everyone did.

When she first met Travis, he knew that she’d found it strange that he and Trav were so close. They were different characters. Travis was fun and outgoing—boisterous, if not loud. They’d served in the Navy together—and with the rest of their friends.

Trip could see how he and Trav might seem an unlikely match to an outsider, but everyone around here knew that they’d been best friends since kindergarten. Trav liked to say that he was the brawn while Trip was the brains, but that wasn’t entirely true. There was so much more to their friendship than that.

He came back to the moment when he realized that Shelley was waiting for her wine. “Want to come down to the cellar with me and choose?”

Shelley followed him downstairs, looking around as she went. Trip had to wonder how this place must seem to her. It wasn’t exactly a regular house.

His father had been a well-known actor—a movie star, if you wanted to call it that. He’d come to visit Montana with some friends back in the late sixties. He’d fallen in love with Paradise Valley and had bought property here. He’d built this house for his wife—Trip’s mom—when Trip was just a baby.

Trip had lived here for most of his life, so he was used to what other people referred to as the grandeur and luxury of the place. Shelley had been over to visit a few times now, but other than commenting that it was a beautiful home, she hadn’t said much.

When they reached the wine cellar, he gestured around with his arm. “What are you in the mood for?”

He swallowed when it occurred to him that if she were to ask the same question, his honest answer would be that he’d rather skip dinner and take her and a bottle of whatever wine she preferred upstairs.

From the way she met his gaze, he wondered if she was thinking along the same lines.

She let out a short laugh. “Why don’t you choose? You know what we’re eating, and you know what’s good. Although, knowing you, it’s probably all good.”

He tilted his head to the side, wondering what exactly she meant by that.

She laughed again. “You’re a man of good taste.”

He nodded. He was tempted to say something about his taste in women—about how attractive he found her—and that just proved he had good taste. But he let it go.

There was no point.

Instead, he scanned the cellar and selected a bottle of his favorite Shiraz. He already knew she preferred big, bold red wines.

Back in the kitchen, he uncorked the bottle and immediately reached for the decanter. “This needs to breathe for a bit,” he said, pouring the wine in a slow, steady stream. “Give it about half an hour, and it’ll be perfect.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I love how you say that like you’re some kind of wine guru.”

He grinned. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I do know a good Shiraz deserves a little patience.”

She watched as he set the decanter on the counter. “Now that you’ve got that taken care of,” she said, “what can I do?”

He gestured to one of the stools at the counter. “Take a seat and keep me company. There’s not much to do—it’s just a case of reheating things. Although, before you sit, come take a peek—see what you’d like.”

She followed him to the fridge, and they both peered inside.

“If you’re in the mood for something hearty, there’s chili or lasagna. If you prefer chicken, that tray there is Maisie’s specialty—chicken thighs with shallots and little tomatoes and some other magic. I don’t know what.”

“There are a couple of kinds of soup, a huge bowl of salad, and –” He chuckled. “To be honest, I don’t really know what else. But feel free to dig if you like. Oh, and she made a loaf of her garlic bread as well.”

“How hungry are you?” Shelley asked.

“You should know by now—I’m always hungry.”

“That’s true. I don’t know where you put it all. I’ve never known a man who can eat as much as you do.”

He shrugged. “I won’t deny that I like to eat—but I do the work to keep the weight off.”

When she turned and let her gaze run over him, a prickling sensation ran over his scalp and down the back of his neck.

He didn’t know if she was aware of it, but she did that often—looked at him with what could be called appreciation in her gaze.

He wanted to think it was lust, but it was safer to call it appreciation.

“Whatever you do, keep it up—it works for you,” she said. “And since I know you’re hungry, I would love lasagna and garlic bread. It’s one of my favorites, and I can’t remember the last time I had it.”

He chuckled. “Don’t let Maisie hear you say that. She’ll fix you a batch of your own and send you home with enough to fill your freezer to overflowing.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He shrugged. “If you like the idea, I’ll let her know. I guess my only problem with it is that if you have your own supply, you won’t need to come over here and eat with me.”

Her eyes widened, and he held his breath. Why had he said that?

He relaxed when she smiled.

“That’s true,” she said. “As much as I enjoy whatever Maisie makes—the company is a big part of the enjoyment.”

Trip nodded as he took the lasagna out of the fridge.

“I hope you know it goes both ways. I don’t just invite you over here to help me eat my way through all this food.”

“No, I get it.”

He raised an eyebrow, wondering if she really did.

When they’d first met, he’d been tempted to pursue some kind of relationship with her. But it had felt like there were too many reasons not to. He’d decided the wisest move was to keep a lid on it.

He knew he could handle the attraction he felt for her. What he didn’t know was if he’d be able to handle the complications that came with getting involved with her. It seemed she wasn’t following his line of thinking.

She smiled. “It makes sense for us to hang out sometimes. We get along. I know that most of your buddies have met women and settled down now—you’re kind of on your own. As for me… I mean, sure, I’ve made a few friends since I came here. But…” She shrugged. “We’re friends. There’s no reason we should both sit home alone on a Friday night. Is there?”

He shook his head. She definitely wasn’t thinking the same way he was. He shouldn’t be surprised. He’d blown any chance he might have had early on. And that was fine. It had to be fine.

Whatever sparks there might be between them, there were too many complications for them to consider anything more than friendship.

He made himself smile. If he stopped to think about it, he knew he should consider himself lucky to have her as a friend.

He needed to remember that.