Resisting the Handsome Doctor (Curvy Wives of Blackwater Falls #4)

Chapter 1 - Ivy

The invitation sits on my kitchen counter for three weeks before I finally throw it away.

The cardstock is thick and expensive, cream-colored with gold lettering that probably cost more than my grocery budget for the month. Someone on the reunion committee really went all out. I imagine it's probably Jessica Morton.

She was class president, prom queen, the kind of girl who glowed. She probably has a perfect life now. Husband, kids, a house that looks like it belongs in a magazine.

I don't know that for sure. I deleted my Facebook account years ago because watching everyone else's highlight reel was slowly killing me.

The invitation goes in the trash on a Tuesday morning, buried under coffee grounds and junk mail where it belongs. I feel better immediately. Lighter. Like I've made a decision instead of just letting one make itself.

Then Levi calls.

"Please tell me you're going to the reunion," he says without preamble.

No hello, no how are you. That's Levi, straight to the point, especially when he knows I'm trying to avoid something.

I tuck my phone between my shoulder and ear, shelving returned books in the quiet of the library. It's almost closing time on a Wednesday, which means the place is empty except for old Mr. Peterson dozing in his usual chair by the window.

"I threw away the invitation."

"Ivy."

"What? I'm not going to know anyone there."

"You went to school with all of them."

"I went to the same building as all of them.

That's not the same thing." I slide Pride and Prejudice back into its slot, running my fingers along the worn spine.

I've read it probably fifty times. Sometimes I think Elizabeth Bennet is the only woman who's ever really understood me, and she's fictional.

That probably says something about my life.

Levi sighs, and I can picture him in his kitchen, phone pressed to his ear while he preps for dinner.

He moved back to Blackwater Falls months ago to open Juniper’s, and it's been like having a piece of my heart return home.

He's the only person in this town who's ever really seen me. "You know I'd go with you if I could."

"I know, but you’re older. It's fine. I wasn't planning to go anyway."

"Bullshit. You were thinking about it."

I was. For about thirty seconds after I opened the invitation, before reality set in.

Before I remembered what high school actually felt like: moving through hallways like a ghost, sitting alone at lunch with a book, watching everyone else live lives I'd never be part of.

"Well, I'm not thinking about it anymore. "

"Owen's coming."

My hand freezes halfway to the shelf. The Great Gatsby dangles from my fingers.

"Ivy? You still there?"

"Yeah." My voice sounds strange. Thin. "That's... that's good. You guys will have fun."

“You know I can’t go."

"Right. Sorry. I got confused." I didn't forget. My brain is just currently short-circuiting because Levi said Owen's name and apparently I'm still seventeen years old inside.

"He's driving up Friday afternoon. Staying at Granddad's house through the weekend." Levi pauses, and I know him well enough to hear the calculation in that silence. "He asked if you still live in town."

"Why would he ask that?"

"Probably because he wants to see you."

"He doesn't even remember me."

"He specifically asked about you, so yeah, I'm pretty sure he remembers you."

I shelve Gatsby and move to the next cart, needing something to do with my hands. "We barely talked in high school."

"You talked plenty."

"At your house. Because I was there to see you."

"Is that what you think?" Levi laughs, but it's gentle. The kind of laugh that says he knows something I don't. "Ivy, come on. You're not that oblivious."

"Oblivious about what?"

"Nothing. Forget it." More silence. Then: "Just go to the reunion. What's the worst that could happen?"

I could walk into a room full of people who never noticed me and still be invisible.

I could see Owen Harper. Dr. Owen Harper now, successful and handsome and everything he was always going to be, and watch his eyes skip right past me like I'm part of the furniture.

I could spend two hours being reminded that I peaked at invisible and it's been downhill from there.

"I'll think about it," I lie.

"You're a terrible liar."

"I know."

He sighs again, but this one's softer. Resigned. "Okay. But if you change your mind, the offer stands."

"Focus on your grand opening. It’s almost there. That's way more important than a high school reunion."

"You're important too, you know."

This is why Levi's my best friend. He's one of maybe three people in my entire life who's ever made me feel like I matter. "Love you."

"Love you too. Now stop hiding and go live your life."

"This is my life."

"I know. That's the problem."

He hangs up before I can argue, which is probably for the best because he's not wrong.

A few days later…

Friday arrives with autumn rain and gray skies that match my mood perfectly.

I'm not going to the reunion. I've made my peace with that decision.

Instead, I'm going to go home, order Chinese takeout, and reread Jane Eyre for the hundredth time.

Maybe I'll take a bath. Maybe I'll actually finish the crossword puzzle I started three days ago.

It's going to be a perfectly nice evening alone, which is pretty much the theme of my life at this point.

The library closes at six on Fridays. I lock up, wave goodbye to Mrs. Silver who runs the tiny coffee shop next door, and climb into my old Honda Civic. She's fourteen years old and makes concerning noises, but she's mine and she's paid off and that's what matters.

I'm not driving toward the reunion. I'm absolutely not.

The venue is at the old Blackwater Inn on the edge of town—a restored Victorian that does weddings and events now.

I'm driving in completely the opposite direction, toward the market, because I need milk and eggs and I'm absolutely not taking the route that happens to go past the inn.

Except that, my subconscious seems to have other plans, because twenty minutes later I'm driving down Riverside Road and the Blackwater Inn is right there, all lit up and beautiful in the rain.

I slow down without meaning to. The parking lot is already half full. People are actually going to this thing. I can see figures moving past the windows, dressed up and laughing. My chest gets tight.

Then my car makes a sound like death and lurches to the right.

"No. No no no no." I manage to pull onto the shoulder before the engine dies completely. The dash lights up like a Christmas tree, every warning symbol I've ever seen and a few I'm pretty sure are new.

I sit there in the sudden silence, rain drumming on the roof, and laugh. Of course. Of course this happens now, right in front of the one place I was actively avoiding.

The universe has a twisted sense of humor.

I grab my phone and call Casey’s Automotive, because that's what responsible adults do when their car dies. He tells me it'll be forty-five minutes to an hour. Friday night, lots of calls, he'll get to me as soon as they can.

So, I sit. In my dead car. In the rain. Fifty yards from my high school reunion.

I should call a cab. Or text Levi, except he's three hours away dealing with his shit and I'm not about to bother him with this.

Or I could walk. It's only two miles home.

In the rain. In the dark. In the jeans and old cardigan I wore to work because I wasn't supposed to be going anywhere except the grocery store.

I'm seriously considering the walk when someone knocks on my window. I jump so hard I hit my head on the roof.

There's a man standing in the rain, leaning down to peer through the glass. He's backlit by the inn's lights, so I can't see his face clearly, just the outline of him: tall, lean, wearing a button-down shirt that's getting soaked.

I crack the window. "I'm fine, thank you. I've already called for help."

"Ivy?"

My brain stalls out completely.

Because I know that voice. I haven't heard it in fifteen years, but I know it the way I know my own heartbeat. He steps closer, ducking his head so he can see me better, and the light catches his face.

Owen Harper.

Except he's not the Owen Harper I remember from high school.

This Owen is... more. Taller, broader in the shoulders, like he grew into himself in all the years I wasn't looking.

His dark hair is shorter now, and he's wearing glasses—simple, wire-framed, the kind that make him look exactly like what he is: a doctor.

Put-together. Successful. The kind of handsome that you can see from a mile away.

My mouth has forgotten how to form words.

"It is you." He smiles, and it transforms his whole face. Makes him look younger. Almost like the boy I remember. "I wasn't sure at first, but... wow. Ivy Rose."

I finally remember how to speak. "Hi."

Smooth, Ivy. Very articulate.

"Car trouble?" He glances at my Honda like he's diagnosing a patient.

"Something like that. It just died."

"Did it make any sounds before it stopped?"

"Several. All of them bad."

He laughs. "Mind if I take a look?"

"You're going to get soaked. And you're dressed for..." I gesture vaguely toward the inn. "That."

"I've gotten wet before. Pop the hood?"

Before I can argue, he's walking to the front of my car. I pull the hood release and watch through the windshield as he props it open and leans in, completely unbothered by the rain soaking through his shirt.

I should get out. I should help. I should do something other than sit here staring. But I'm frozen, my mind racing in circles. Owen Harper is here. Owen Harper is looking at my car. Owen Harper recognized me.

He said my name like he was hoping to see me.

That can't be right.

After a minute, he closes the hood and comes back to my window. His hair is plastered to his forehead, his glasses spotted with rain. He looks unfairly good.

"I think it's your alternator," he says. "But I'm a people doctor, not a car doctor, so don't quote me on that."

"That's... probably expensive to fix."

"Little bit, yeah." He shifts, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You waiting for a tow?"

"They said forty-five minutes. But it's been about ten, so..."

"So, you're stuck here."

"Looks like it."

We stare at each other through the half-open window. The rain is getting heavier, and I realize he's been standing out there getting drenched while I sit here like an idiot.

"You should go," I say quickly. "The reunion. You're here for that."

"Yeah." But he doesn't move. "Are you... were you coming to it?"

"No. I was going to the grocery store. Just bad luck that I broke down here."

Something flickers across his face. Disappointment? That can't be right. "That is bad luck."

"Story of my life."

He laughs again, softer this time. "I don't believe that."

Before I can figure out what to say to that, he's opening my door. "Come on. You can't sit in a dead car for forty-five minutes. Let me buy you a drink while you wait."

"At the reunion?" My voice goes up an octave. "I'm not dressed for—I can't just—"

"You look fine. Perfect, actually." He says it so casually, like it's a fact rather than the most surreal compliment I've received in years. "Besides, it's just a bunch of people we went to high school with. Half of them are probably wearing jeans too."

They're not. I can see them through the windows wearing dresses and heels and button-downs. Real clothes. Reunion clothes. But Owen is standing there with his hand out, rain dripping off his nose, looking at me like my answer actually matters to him.

And I realize with sudden, crystal clarity that I have two choices.

I can stay in this car, wait for the tow truck in the dark, and go home to my quiet house and my predictable life. Safe. Invisible. Exactly what I've always been.

Or I can take his hand.

"I was hoping you'd be here," he says.

My heart stops. Restarts. Stumbles over itself.

"You were?"

"Yeah." His smile is crooked, almost shy. "I was."

I look at his hand. Back at his face. Those warm brown eyes behind simple glasses, watching me like I'm someone worth watching.

This is terrifying. This is every fear I've ever had about being seen and found wanting.

But it's also Owen Harper, Levi's little brother, the only man I’ve ever loved, who grew up to be a doctor, standing in the rain asking me to have a drink with him.

And maybe, just maybe, the universe's twisted sense of humor isn't so twisted after all.

I take his hand. It's warm and real, and when his fingers close around mine, fifteen years disappear like they never existed at all.

"Okay," I say. "One drink."

His smile could light up the entire town.

"One drink," he agrees.

And just like that, everything changes.