Chapter 4
4
Caroline
The scent of pot roast unlocked years of memories as I stepped into my childhood home, a large ranch-style place that had always been synonymous with comfort and expectations. It was the kind of house that seemed to stand still in time, filled with memories of scraped knees and science fair trophies.
Mom’s collection of ceramic roosters watched from their perch on the windowsill as Dad carved another slice of meat with practiced ease.
“Caroline, you’ve hardly touched your food,” Mom chimed in, her voice laced with concern and a dollop of motherly critique.
I pushed around the roasted carrots on my plate, trying to find the right words. “Just got a lot on my mind, I guess.”
Dad looked up from his plate, his eyes crinkling at the corners—a telltale sign of impending wisdom. “You’re doing important work, taking over the practice.”
“I know. But I also know your patients want you back. I don’t think Whittier Falls was ready for you to retire. ”
“Well I sure as heck was,” he said with a twinge of humor.
“I know. They’re just used to you is all. And used to thinking of me as your little girl.”
“These things take time. You’re a talented physician and I wanted you to take over for a reason. I could have sold the place. Could have just closed up shop. But you, Care Bare, are creating a legacy. You’ll win them over.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I couldn’t help but smile at this childhood nickname he used. His encouragement felt like a sturdy fence post in a storm, something I could lean on when the wind howled too fiercely. Even if, at times, that encouragement came with a big heaping scoop of expectations.
Mom spooned another helping of mashed potatoes onto her plate, the silverware clinking softly against the china. “It’s lovely that you’re following in your father’s footsteps, dear. But don’t forget about your personal life. A smart girl like you should have no trouble finding a man.”
The familiar tug-of-war between their expectations began anew. On one side, there were the years I’d spent learning the intricacies of the human body and mastering the art of healing. On the other, the loud ticking of my biological clock combined with the unspoken rulebook of small-town life, complete with a deadline for getting hitched.
I wanted to throw up.
“Mom, I’m really trying to focus on the practice right now,” I said, hoping she’d understand without me having to spell it out.
“Of course, but a good relationship is just as important,” she countered, her gaze soft but insistent.
I sighed inwardly, feeling the weight of the white picket fences pressing down on me. It wasn’t that I didn’t want someone special; it was just that my love story had always been on pause while I chased a different dream—one with stethoscopes and patient charts. And now, here I was, unsure of what I wanted.
Or rather, wanting both, and clueless on how to focus on both at the same time.
Dad cleared his throat. “Caroline, your mother and I only want the best for you. But don’t let anyone rush you into something you’re not ready for. You’ve got time.”
Mom raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge in her gaze as she regarded Dad. “Time’s a-ticking, Tom. We all know how fast it flies.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, suddenly feeling like the main course on the dinner table, under scrutiny from both sides. Their contrasting views on my personal life were like two opposing currents converging into a tempest within me.
“I appreciate your concern, Mom, Dad. I really do,” I began cautiously, trying to navigate treacherous waters. “But can we please just focus on one crisis at a time?”
Dad chuckled lightly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Who knew finding a good man could be considered a crisis?”
“I meant winning over your patients.”
“They’re your patients now, Care Bare.”
“Right. Anyway, it’s getting late,” I said, using the creeping dusk outside as an excuse to escape the mounting pressure.
“Alright, honey. Just remember what I said,” Mom replied, her eyes tracing my every move as I stood from the table.
“Will do, Mom. Thanks for dinner,” I murmured, planting a kiss on her cheek before wrapping Dad in a quick hug.
Stepping out into the cool evening, the vast expanse of the sky stretched out above me like a canvas painted with stars. My parents’ voices faded behind the closing door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
As I walked to my car, the gravel crunched beneath my feet, a steady rhythm to the chaos in my head. The town had always been a part of me, yet I felt like a stranger trying to fit into a puzzle where all the pieces had changed shape.
“Focus on the practice,” I whispered to myself, letting the night swallow my words.
A short drive later, my key turned in the lock with a satisfying click, and I stepped into the stillness of my new old house. Boxes towered like cardboard sentinels guarding the remnants of a life I was only just beginning to unpack. A sigh escaped me as I flicked on the lights, the soft glow chasing away the lingering shadows of doubt that had hitched a ride home from my parents’ place.
“Surprise!”
The shout jolted me out of my reverie, and I spun around to see Sutton and another woman bursting through the door, each brandishing a bottle of wine like victorious cowboys in a saloon.
Sutton used her wine bottle to point to the familiar looking woman with long brown hair. “Caroline, this is Eryn. She fell in love with my dumb, stubborn cousin and is now one of my closest friends. Eryn, this is my lifelong bestie, Dr. Caroline Cressley.”
“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” she beamed. It was then that I realized just who she was.
“Eryn Blake, right?”
“Guilty as charged.”
I felt like this was some sort of Twilight Zone episode, but then I remembered my mom telling me about how Gray Anderson had gone and fallen in love with a world-famous heiress and influencer. Mom didn’t even know what an influencer was, but she passed along the gossip like a pro.
Apparently she’d come to town for a vacation and simply never left. I didn’t have time to pay much attention to the world of pop culture and social media, but I’d known who Eryn was. Everyone did. And I had to admit, she looked great standing in front of me tonight. Montana life must be agreeing with her.
Walker hadn’t mentioned her at breakfast, but then again, I got the feeling that his brother was a sore subject at times.
I led the way back to the kitchen, where my unpacking procrastination was on full display. Boxes lined the walls, leading into the attached den. Some were stacked four or five high, and others were open, half-rummaged through as I’d searched for one thing or another.
“I may have run into Lisa, who may have told me you weren’t unpacked yet. Figured you could use some reinforcements,” Sutton said, her smile as warm as the fresh bread from her bakery.
“Or at least a drink,” Eryn added, her bohemian bangles jingling as she set down the wine and started to rummage through cabinets for glasses.
“I’m afraid everything is still a mess. I haven’t had the time, or really the energy, to get unpacked.”
“Thats why we’re here! Don’t worry about a thing.”
We settled into an easy rhythm, the conversation flowing as naturally as the merlot we poured. Sutton perched on the edge of my kitchen counter, while Eryn commandeered the couch, tucking her legs beneath her.
“Thanks for coming, guys,” I murmured, my fingers tracing the stem of my glass. “I’ve been so wrapped up in the clinic, it feels like I haven’t had a minute to breathe.”
“Speaking of breathing,” Eryn quipped, “have you exhaled since you got back to Whittier Falls? I’ve heard the practice is packed. I called to make an appointment for next week.”
“Well, it’s been fairly busy but I’m losing patients too.”
Eryn’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Why?”
“People don’t want me, they want my dad. ”
“People in Whittier are old fashioned and slow to change,” Sutton said. “But fuck ‘em. The ones leaving are a small fraction of the people you’ll be helping. And they’ll regret it soon enough when the good reviews start spreadin’ around.”
Eryn nodded, understanding. Surely as someone new to town she had experienced some of this herself. “I agree then. Fuck ‘em!”
A laugh bubbled up, but it was tinged with something else—a realization that had been simmering below the surface. The laughter faded, and I found myself voicing thoughts I’d kept locked up tighter than the prescription meds at the office.
“I’m not gonna lie—I’m feeling pretty out of my depth here. Not just with the practice, but . . . personally.”
I hesitated, my gaze flitting between their expectant faces. But Sutton was my best friend and Eryn had already made me feel comfortable in the ten minutes I’d known her. If I couldn’t open up to them, what was the point of even having girlfriends?
“You know, I spent all those years studying, interning, nose always in a book or a medical journal. And now, I’m this . . . doctor, but I don’t know how to be anything else. I just came from my parents’ house, where I was reminded by my mom yet again that my biological clock is ticking. And I haven’t even had a minute to stop and think about what I even want.”
“Well, that makes sense. You’ve been working so hard, I’m sure you never had much time to stop and try new things or plan your future.” Sutton leaned forward, her eyes sharp and insightful. “I don’t remember you ever telling me about guys. Have you dated at all?”
“I’ve had exactly one boyfriend—another resident at the time. Our schedules were so busy, we barely saw each other and it wasn’t exactly what I’d call romantic.” I sighed, plopping down in the wingback chair in the corner. “I don’t know the first thing about dating, flirting, or even . . . sex.” The word hung in the air, heavy and foreign. “It’s like I missed that entire chapter in the book of life.”
Eryn stood, pouring another glass of wine and handing it to me. “Caroline, it’s never too late to start writing a new chapter. That’s what I did and believe me, it was the best thing I’ve ever done. Besides, half the town probably has a crush on the smart, beautiful new doctor. You’ll learn plenty in no time if that’s what you want.”
I took a sip of the wine which was smoother than I expected. “Smart and beautiful doesn’t exactly translate to experienced and confident,” I countered, my cheeks heating at the compliment.
“Experience is overrated,” Sutton chimed in, her grin mischievous. “And confidence? Well, that’s just something you fake until it becomes real.”
“Easy for you to say, you’ve never had to fake anything,” I shot back playfully, though a part of me wondered if there was truth in her words.
“Hey, we’re here for you. I know we just met, but Sutton is family to me now and any friend of hers is a friend of mine,” Eryn said, her amber eyes glinting with a mix of compassion and determination. “Whatever you need—flirting tips, date-night ideas, or even the . . . ahem, sex talk—we’ve got your back.”
Their assurances wrapped around me like a warm blanket, soothing the frayed edges of my nerves. Perhaps with a little help from my friends—and damn, did it feel good to have friends again—I could navigate this uncharted territory. Maybe it was time to stop being just Dr. Caroline Cressley and start figuring out who Caroline was outside of the white coat and stethoscope.
“Okay,” I agreed, a tentative smile breaking through. “Let’s do this. But let’s start with the basics. How does one flirt without looking like they’re having a seizure?”
Laughter filled the room, echoing off the walls and lifting the weight from my shoulders.
“Okay, if that is your baseline, then you definitely need our help,” Sutton said.
I swallowed the rest of my wine in a single gulp while Eryn stood and grabbed a box to unpack.
“Come on, Doc. We’re gonna get you and your house sorted.”
Twenty minutes later, we’d already gotten through four of the boxes that had been sitting there for weeks. Maybe life really was better when you let yourself lean on others.
The bubble wrap crinkled under my fingers as I freed a framed photo of my graduating class, the edges of my mouth tilting upwards at the memory of valedictorian glory. It was a stark contrast to the chaos of cardboard boxes strewn about my living room.
“Look at you, all smarty-pants with your big ol’ diploma,” Sutton teased, plucking the picture from my grasp and setting it on the mantle.
“Brains over brawn,” I quipped back, though in this town, sometimes I wondered if the opposite held more sway.
“And as your newest patient, I appreciate that. But nevertheless, we’ll make a cowgirl out of you yet, Caroline,” Eryn chuckled, her bohemian dress swishing around her knees as she effortlessly hefted a box labeled ‘Books’ onto the shelf.
“Speaking of cowboys,” Sutton said, her gray eyes dancing with mischief, “tell us about running into Walker at the diner. You’ve been holding out on us.”
“How the heck did you hear about that?” I asked, before realizing this was Whittier Falls. You couldn’t do anything in public without at least three people reporting back on it. The look on Sutton’s face confirmed my suspicions .
“People here sure love their gossip.” I felt a flush creep up my cheeks, not just from the wine warming my belly. “It really wasn’t anything special. He was just being . . . Walker. Friendly as ever. I mean, I haven’t seen him in a million years, I was surprised he even remembered me.”
“Uh-huh,” Sutton drawled, unconvinced. “And when he flashed those baby blues and that charming smile? He may be my cousin, but I know how he operates.”
“Okay, fine,” I conceded, a giggle escaping me despite my attempts at nonchalance. “I may have always had a bit of a crush on him. He’s got that whole rugged cowboy look down pat. And obviously the charm.”
“He sure does,” Eryn agreed with a knowing nod.
“But he’s just another friend in town,” I added quickly, trying to brush off the implication that it could be anything more. Friends were safe. Friends didn’t complicate your life when you were trying to establish a professional reputation in a place where everyone remembered the time you threw up on stage at the fifth grade talent show.
I forged ahead. “I’m serious. I might have thought he was dreamy in high school, but this is not then. And I know how he operates, too,” I added, with a knowing look at Sutton. “But I admit it was a nice conversation. It felt good reconnecting. Or, I guess, connecting, as friends, in a way we hadn’t done as kids.”
Their knowing looks told me they weren’t buying it, but mercifully, they let the subject drop. We continued unpacking, the comfortable rhythm of our movements filling the spaces of my too-quiet house.
As I sipped my third and final glass of wine, a warmth that had little to do with alcohol spread through me. Here, with Sutton and Eryn, I could be just Caroline—flaws, fears, and all. They didn’t expect Dr. Cressley; they just wanted their friend .
“Thank you, guys,” I murmured, more to my glass than to them. “For being here. For listening.”
“Always,” Eryn replied, her amber gaze softening.
“Besides,” Sutton piped in, wagging a finger playfully, “who else is going to teach you the art of seduction in a town where the dating pool is shallower than a kiddie splash pad?”
“Is there an art to it then?” I asked, only half joking. The other half of me genuinely wanted to know.
“More like a science,” Eryn mused, a twinkle in her eye. “But don’t worry, we’ve got enough collective wisdom to write a thesis on it.”
“Or at least a very detailed guidebook,” Sutton added with a laugh.
I couldn’t help but join in, the sound mingling with theirs, and the giddy feeling from the wine taking over my body. For the first time since moving back, I felt the stirrings of something more than just responsibility and legacy. I felt happy. Hopeful.
Maybe, just maybe, it could lead to a little romance as well. After all, wasn’t there a saying about all work and no play? So maybe I needed to learn how to play. Maybe that wasn’t normal, but who cares, as long as I was successful at it?
A cardboard box crinkled under my hands as I lifted the flaps, revealing a trove of college textbooks—remnants of a past life where flirting was an abstract concept buried in psychology chapters, not a skill I needed to master. Flirting was on the curriculum now. Conversation. Kissing. Sex. If I approached these topics like the subjects in these books, I had no doubt I’d master them. Or at least get a passable B.
It was, perhaps, the smartest idea I’d ever had. Or maybe it was just the wine talking. Either way, I was committing.
“Okay, so let’s say hypothetically,” I began, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and casting a glance between my two friends, “I wanted to . . . you know, get someone’s attention. How would I even start?”
Eryn leaned back, her amber eyes gleaming like two drops of honey under the overhead lights. “First off, eye contact. It’s all about the eyes, Caroline. You’ve got beautiful green ones, use them. Think smolder, not medical examination.”
Sutton chuckled, nudging a half-unpacked photo frame with her foot. “And body language. Don’t cross your arms; it’s like putting up a ‘Closed for Business’ sign on your chest.”
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of years spent buried in books and long shifts lifting slightly off my shoulders. “You know, I just started reading a romance novel and it’s given me inspiration. I’ve developed this silly fantasy,” I confessed, cheeks warming with the admission. “A sort of . . . steamy encounter with a man who looks at me like I’m the only woman in the world.”
“Steamy, hmm?” Sutton teased, her eyes dancing with delight. “Well, why not? Fantasies are healthy. Plus, they’re a good place to start when you’re figuring out what you want in reality. Or what you don’t want.”
“Exactly,” Eryn chimed in, her eyes gleaming with encouragement. “And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to feel desired. It’s human nature.”
“Right,” I murmured, emboldened by their support. “But how do I even begin? Flirting feels like a foreign language to me.”
“Well, desire needs to build from something. A look. A conversation. A touch. Flirting might be a step to it, but it’s not a guarantee. There’s that X factor to it, too.”
“X factor?”
“Chemistry. A vibe. A spark. Flirting is a great step, but without those things, that’s all it is. Which isn’t a bad thing! Innocent flirting is fun and will get you practice.”
“Think of it this way,” Sutton began, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Flirting is just a playful conversation. It’s about giving a compliment here, a light touch on the arm there, and lots of eye contact.”
“Right. Eye contact,” I repeated, as if committing it to memory.
“Yep, and smiling,” Eryn added. “Smiling’s universal. Shows you’re approachable.”
“Approachable,” I nodded, my mind racing with these seemingly simple yet uncharted tactics.
“Most importantly,” Sutton said, reaching across the cardboard boxes to squeeze my hand, “be yourself. You’re smart, kind, and absolutely stunning. Any man would be lucky to have you glance his way. You have to act like you know that. Show confidence. And fake it if you need to until you feel it.”
“Is it really that simple?” I asked, skepticism lacing my voice even as I straightened my posture, suddenly conscious of how I held myself.
“Simple to say, harder to do,” Eryn said, nodding sagely. “But you’ve got to be genuine. If you’re comfortable, they’re comfortable. And comfort leads to . . . other things.”
“Right,” I murmured, the idea of ‘other things’ painting my cheeks a shade that rivaled the boldness of the wine.
“Confidence is key,” Sutton added, tapping the rim of her glass. “You’ve accomplished so much, Caroline. You’re a brilliant doctor. Flirting is just . . . applying that confidence elsewhere.”
“Like transferring skills from suturing to seducing?” I quipped, earning some chuckles and rolled eyes.
“Something like that,” Eryn agreed, her smile encouraging. “But remember, it’s not just about snagging any date. It’s about connection, finding someone who appreciates you, quirks and all.”
“Quirks? Oh, I have plenty of those,” I said with a self-deprecating chuckle.
“Exactly!” Sutton exclaimed, her gray eyes lighting up. “Embrace them. Quirks are endearing. And let’s face it. You’re a fucking catch, Car. All the single cowboys will be wanting their shot with you once you put yourself out there.”
Cowboys. I thought back to Walker, his easygoing smile at the diner. The only man I’d actually dated was an uptight doctor. The opposite of the laidback cowboys of Whittier Falls. Same for the few men I’d tried and failed to connect with in the time after that ill-fated relationship.
“Maybe,” I conceded. Maybe it was a good thing to be in a town full of men who worked with their hands out in the sun all day. Strong men who could lift me up above their heads if they wanted. A shiver of excitement shot its way down my spine. I’d never allowed myself to think about men like this. To . . . fantasize. It seemed that I’d been missing out.
“Look, I might be new to town, but even I can tell the dating pool is a joke. You’re a catch anywhere but in Whittier, I’d say you’re more like the Queen. Every man will be vying for your affections,” Eryn said with a wink. “Now, intimacy—that’s another dance altogether. But when the time comes, you’ll find it’s less about the steps and more about the rhythm.”
“Rhythm, huh?” I echoed, considering the metaphor. “I guess it’s like learning a new procedure. It might be awkward at first, but with practice . . . ”
“Exactly! You’ll be a pro before you know it,” Sutton said, her voice full of mirth.
“Alright then,” I said, feeling a newfound determination stirring within me. “Consider me a student ready for lessons in . . . all of the above. ”
“Good,” Eryn said, raising her glass in a toast. “Because we’re going to make sure you ace this class, Dr. Cressley.”
“Here’s to education,” I replied, clinking my glass against theirs, the sound crisp in the air that now thrummed with possibility.
“Nothing like a good Merlot to keep the spirits high,” Sutton said after taking a sip.
“Especially when paired with the girl gang,” Eryn chimed in, her amber eyes twinkling with warmth as she settled back into the worn couch that had become our impromptu confessional.
“Agreed,” I said, taking a sip and letting its boldness remind me of the courage I sought to find within myself. “And to think, this is just the beginning.”
“Speaking of beginnings, what do you say about a girls’ day out next week?” Sutton suggested. “We could hit up the farmer’s market, maybe grab lunch at the Riverside Café? Give you a break from the office and let you mingle with the locals a bit more.”
“Sounds perfect,” I replied, excited by the idea of integrating more into the social fabric of Whittier Falls. It was time to shed the remnants of my shy, bookish teenage self and step out into the community as Dr. Caroline, confident and approachable.
Eryn leaned forward conspiratorially. “And how about after that, we treat ourselves to a little pampering at Sunshine Acres? My treat. You can’t conquer the world—or the dating scene—without a little self-care.”
“Count me in,” I said, grateful for the generosity of their spirits and their unwavering belief in me. It wasn’t just about finding romance; it was about finding myself in this tapestry of small-town life.
And I was ready to do just that.