way.” Blonde Rita, the receptionist, walked with a distinct sway down a short hall. Out of the blue, Julie wondered if Trevor was now married with children.
They passed four patient-exam rooms toward a modest office at the end, gulp, where Trevor Montgomery, the once-gifted high school athlete, exceptional student, all-around dreamy guy—not to mention the man who’d taken her virginity—waited.
Julie did one last futile battle with the panic jetting along her nerve endings, then threw in a quick prayer to help her get through the interview.
Trevor stood behind a huge rustic weathered wood ranch-style desk, smiling and reaching for her hand when she finally had the guts to look up. Tall, as she’d remembered, dark hair, piercing brown, almost black, eyes thanks to distant Native American heritage on his mother’s side. Handsome as ever. She stopped in her tracks and took him all in.
She couldn’t very well stand there gawking, so she tore away her gaze, and glanced around the office. Matching woven iron lamps with stretched cowhide shades said classic cowboy chic through and through.
The steer antlers that were thankfully missing in the waiting room were mounted on the wall behind his desk, like a crown, exactly where he stood. No white coat for him. No, he wore a blue pinstriped, long-sleeved, button-down, Western-style shirt, open at the neck, no tie. No wedding ring either. The black Wrangler jeans with a tasteful, not overly large, silver-and-bronze intricately patterned belt buckle were de rigueur for these parts, and she assumed he wore boots, but couldn’t be sure since he stood behind the behemoth desk. But obviously he did, right?
“Julie? It’s great to see you again.” Those eyes seemed to look into her soul. Thirteen years had transformed the good-looking young jock into a mature and handsome thirty-four-year-old man, by her count, complete with winter tan and creases fanning out from his eyes—the mark of a guy who still worked outdoors on his family’s Circle M Ranch.
“Nice to see you, too,” she mumbled and lied, forced a step forward and jutted out her hand, performing some kind of royalty handshake, one she’d normally never do. But since his mere touch had set off sparklers all the way down to her fingertips, she didn’t want to hold his hand unnecessarily—even if it made her seem prudish. It was just all so awkward, wasn’t it?
No ring. No picture of a family on his desk that she could see either. Didn’t mean he wasn’t involved, though, did it?
He didn’t belabor the wimpy handshake. “I had no idea you were a nurse practitioner, with great credentials, too.” His relaxed cadence reminded her how much she’d forgotten about home since living in LA for thirteen years. Things slowed down here, not that mad rush called daily life out West.
She nodded, not anywhere ready to find her voice.
“So what are you doing back in Cattleman Bluff?” He gestured for her to sit. She obeyed but perched on the edge of the chair rather than getting comfortable—no way that would happen anyway.
She cleared her throat, goading herself to woman up. “The truth?”
He nodded, a hint of intrigue darkening those already deep brown irises.
“My parents died in a car accident.”
“I’d heard. What a tragedy. I’m so sorry,” he said with a perfect mix of empathy and sincerity. Good job, Doc.
She gave a quick nod, unwilling to get sidetracked. Not now—she had to stay focused. Win the job! “Yes, well. They left me the house, and it turns out there was a place for my son at the military academy in Laramie for the rest of this semester. He’s in orientation now.”
“I’ve heard good things about that school.” Though the one quirked brow proved he knew the school was a haven for troubled boys, and Cattleman Bluff had a perfectly good middle school just around the corner.
Her jaw clamped tight. His brow remained quirked. They stared at each other.
“Ah.” She was grateful he trudged ahead rather than allow an awkward silence—probably just to be polite. “You know my brother keeps an apartment in Laramie. He prefers it there over Cheyenne.” They’d hit their first rocky patch. Trevor—or Dr. Montgomery as he deserved to be called for today’s purposes—segued smoothly as that driven snow outside the window into easy banter. “When he isn’t gallivanting around the country lecturing and training other cardiologists, that is.”
Julie raised her brows in acknowledgement, but didn’t add a comment, not wanting to open the door for a deeper discussion on why her son was going to military school.
She’d heard of the great Cole Montgomery, practicing cutting-edge mitral valve replacements in the same fashion as cardiac catheterization, at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. The guy who’d been the pride of Cattleman Bluff and the one person Trevor couldn’t seem to outshine. The thought made Julie wonder why Trevor had settled here, practicing family medicine, instead of pursuing a more lucrative medical specialty like his big brother.
“So,” Trevor continued on, since Julie was proving to be less than chatty. “You’re certainly the best-qualified candidate for this job. I need someone who can pull their weight and work independently. The fact that you’re also a licensed midwife is a big plus. Hell, you’re probably better at delivering babies than I am.” He flashed his trademark charming smile—nice lips, white teeth. Yeah, she remembered that smile.
“I’ve delivered a hundred or so babies over the last five years. Handled my share of difficult births.”
“That’s great, Julie. We’ll need those skills, too.” He laced his fingers and rested his elbows on the desk. “You’re probably wondering why I’m hiring.”
“Business is booming?”
He gave an obligatory smile. “Not quite. The reason is my father has had some health issues lately, and I need to be more help on the ranch. Some days, if you get the job, you’ll be running the clinic all by yourself. Would you be okay with that?”
“I would.” And she meant it. She’d been expected to pull her load in the last two clinics where she’d worked in Los Angeles, even when she’d protested that they were treating her as if she were a doctor, but not paying her the same wages. Fact was, she knew how to handle hard work.
“Some days it’s deader than the prairie around here, then all of a sudden everyone gets sick. You just never know. And with winter almost over, people come out in droves. But I need to know my patients are in good hands when I’m doing my ranch chores.”
“If you hire me, I’ll give this job one hundred percent effort. I promise.”
“You need the job?”
This was no time to play coy. Of course I do! “I do. That military school is pricey, and, last I looked, you’re the only game in town.”
“Fair enough.” He sat straighter, reached for a pad of paper and a pen. “Then I need to do an extensive interview to gauge your medical experience, if you don’t mind.”
Great, now they’d play twenty questions—medical tricks, and treatment of the day—and she’d better come through. At least her jitters had settled down, thinking about medicine. “Fire away, Dr. Montgomery.”
Twenty minutes later, after the most thorough
