the clinic. Her job was to assist him and she was all about doing a good job.
Dawn got a text on her cell phone that Jamie had just pulled into the clinic parking lot on South Lodgepole Lane. She pushed open the back exit door and headed for the rancher’s familiar vehicle. The cowboy slid out of the driver’s side and opened the rear passenger door. He was tall, a blue-eyed blond, although it was hard to tell the color of his hair because of the Stetson he always wore. There was an air of sadness about the tanned, muscular man. His wife had died in childbirth in February, nearly six months ago, and now he was working his ranch and raising triplets by himself.
He couldn’t manage three infant carriers alone so she always waited for his text, then helped bring the babies inside.
“Hi, Jamie. How are you?”
“Tired.” He sighed, looking into the backseat full of babies.
“I bet.” She reminded herself never again to whine about being exhausted. This single working father of triplets was the walking definition of exhaustion. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in months and had little prospect of one in the near future.
She grabbed one of the carriers and the bulging diaper bag, while Jamie took the other two and followed her into the building. All of the infants were sleeping soundly, probably soothed by the movement of the car during the drive.
“We’re going into exam room four, as always.” It was the biggest and had an infant scale. “The doctor will meet us there. Dr. Clifton is new, a pediatrician.”
“Okay.”
As it happened, the doctor didn’t meet them there—he was waiting for them. “Mr. Stockton, I’m Jonathan Clifton.”
“Nice to meet you, Doc.” Jamie put down one of the carriers to shake the other man’s hand. “Everyone calls me Jamie.”
“Okay. Please, call me Jon.” He glanced at the babies. “That’s a good-looking bunch you’ve got there. Cute kids.”
“Yeah.” That got a rare smile from the new father. “Henry, Jared and Kate. Just wait until they start crying all at once.”
“Doesn’t scare me. It means they’re healthy and that’s a good thing.” Dr. Clifton looked confident, cheerful and incredibly competent. Friendly and approachable.
Dawn thought the white lab coat over his shirt and jeans could have been sexier, but she wasn’t sure how. She’d been through this triple checkup scenario before and could have taken the lead, but decided to see how he’d deal with it. “Let me know what you want me to do, Doctor.”
He looked sincerely conflicted when he said, “It’s a shame to wake them, especially because they’re not going to like being undressed. But...” His gaze met hers. “Let’s do this assembly line style. We’ll put them on the exam table. Jamie, you ride herd and make sure no one rolls off. Dawn, you undress them down to the diaper and hand them to me. I’ll weigh and measure them.”
In the past they’d dealt with one baby at a time. This process, she had to admit, was faster and more efficient, over before the babies were fully awake and notations were made in their charts. Then came the part where things usually deteriorated even more. Dr. Clifton warmed the cold metal stethoscope between his hands before placing it on each small chest and back.
Dawn always did her best to be a health care professional, emphasis on professional. So when the sight of the doctor’s big hands handling each infant with such capable gentleness made her heart skip a beat, it was cause for alarm. On top of that, he smelled amazing—some spicy scent mixed with his particular brand of masculinity. All that and he was gorgeous. Darn it. Why couldn’t he look like a hobbit?
After examining the last baby he straightened and smiled at each of them. “Henry, Jared and Kate are perfectly healthy.”
“Good to hear.” Jamie seemed to relax a little.
“I’m sure when they were born someone explained to you that preemies begin life just a little behind the curve compared to full-term babies. But most children born early catch up and reach normal size for their age in a year or two.”
“They did tell me,” Jamie said.
“But right now we’re dealing with their adjusted age as opposed to gestational age, which would be how long they were in the womb. They’re almost six months old, but because they were eight weeks early, their adjusted age means they have the physical development of a four-month-old.”
There was the barest hint of panic in the single father’s eyes. “Is that a problem?”
“Not at all. The only reason I mention it is that a flu shot is recommended for infants at six months old.”
Clifton glanced at her, obviously remembering their friendly, almost flirty flu conversation. If she’d known then that he was the new doctor, she wouldn’t have given him a chance to be charming. And it was annoying to admit that she had been charmed by his lack of smoothness. Refreshing. But she’d learned the hard way not to trust new doctors.
“I’m not sure I understand,” Jamie said.
“For these three,” Clifton continued, “we need to wait another couple of months until their growth and development catch up. It’s not a big deal.”
“Whatever you say, Doc.”
“Something else you should be aware of...” The doctor hesitated a moment, obviously thinking about what he was going to say. “Sometimes with preemies, the lungs aren’t fully developed and a virus can be problematic. There’s a medication that can protect them from RSV—”
“What’s that?” Panic was back in Jamie’s eyes.
“It’s a very common infection that makes the rounds during flu season and presents with all the symptoms of the common cold. It isn’t a problem unless an infant is severely premature—which yours are not. Or if there’s a weakened immune system for some reason.”
“Should I be worried?” Jamie asked.
The baby closest to the doctor started to fuss and the pink elastic headband clued them in that it was Kate. Without hesitation Clifton picked her up and cuddled her close.
“It’s okay, kiddo. You and your brothers are just fine.”
At the sound of his smooth, deep voice the little girl stopped crying and just stared at him with big, wide blue eyes. Dawn wondered if all females were like that—putty in his hands. Susceptible to a handsome face that hid the heart of a self-indulgent, narcissistic snake.
He smiled reassuringly. “There’s nothing to worry about. Their lungs sound great, completely normal. New parents sometimes are critiqued for being overprotective but in your case that isn’t a bad thing. I always recommend taking steps to keep them as healthy as possible. It’s just basic common sense.” He leaned a hip against the exam table, apparently in no hurry to put the baby girl down. “Anyone who’s sick should keep their distance from the triplets. Stay away from places where people and germs tend to gather—churches, malls.”
That got another smile out of the single dad. “Not a problem there. Shopping isn’t high on my list.”
“Didn’t
