Page 18

Okay, maybe I crossed a line with bringing that up here in the place she works with listening ears, but my curiosity’s been killing me.

Mrs. Mayberry let it slip that Regan’s boyfriend of six months proposed to her a few days ago, and according to some light, casual digging on my part, she turned him down.

I can’t resist poking because I want to know the details.

No, I need to know the details. Because I’m a sick fuck who wants to know everything about her for some reason.

“How do you know about that?” she demands, her voice stronger now, her posture fully on defense mode.

“Mrs. Mayberry mentioned it,” I say with a shrug, keeping my tone casual.

She mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like a curse aimed at small-town gossip and no privacy.

“No, I’m not re-proposing to anyone. But I’m also not showing you all my cards.” She shoves away from the bar, crossing her arms like she’s trying to build a wall between us.

“Well,” I say, taking another sip of the whiskey—damn, it’s good and smooth. Her family really does know what they’re doing. “I doubt that.”

Her glare sharpens, her eyes practically into slits now. “What do you mean by that?”

I shrug again, all nonchalant. “Mrs. Mayberry will change her mind and sell me the place.”

Her arms tighten across her chest as if she’s bracing herself, but I can tell she’s already plotting her next move. It’s written all over her face. Game on and I like playing with her.

“Hayes…what did you do?”

“I might’ve sent her flowers tonight,” I say, leaning back in my seat with a grin. “She called me immediately and said that she loved them. She also said that I was such a fine young man who she hopes will own the property someday.”

Regan rolls her impossibly blue eyes so hard I think she’s about to strain something and then she laughs.

“She’s not changing her mind. She clearly just told you she’s not selling it to you unless you find a wife so, you might as well go out there and get to looking. Flowers aren’t going to cut it.”

I chuckle, low and steady. “Not happening.”

Her lips twitch, almost like she’s holding back a laugh.

“Why are you so commitment-averse anyway? I’d marry someone in a heartbeat for this kind of opportunity.”

“Then why didn’t you marry your ex?” I fire back.

That gets her. She exhales sharply, the humor draining from her face.

“Because that’s fucked up. He wanted a wife, not a business partner. I wouldn’t marry someone who actually loved me, and I didn’t return the feelings. That’s how people get hurt.”

Well, damn. That was blunt. The guy loved her. And she didn’t love him back. Before I can decide how to feel about that statement, she launches into another monologue.

“I know you don’t know me, but I’m not a cruel person, Hayes.”

I nod because that’s fair. I get why she wouldn’t go back to the ex now to get the land. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up again.”

She bites down on her bottom lip softly and nods.

“By the way, how’s your head feeling. Any residuals symptoms after your fall?”

She shakes her head and touches where the bruise has almost faded completely now. “No. I feel fine.”

“Do you remember how the fall happened?”

She hesitates and I instantly know there’s a story there.

Then she smiles and shakes her head before looking up at the ceiling.

“My sister-in-law Rae gave me weed brownies and I ate too many before taking a shower. My limbs gave out and I got lightheaded. Slipped on the water and woke up in the car.”

My brows jump. “What?”

She laughs. “Yeah. Not my finest moment.”

“Damn, that could have been more serious.”

She smiles. “I know. That’s probably the last time I ever do something like that.

At first, I thought I was imagining you as my doctor because I was so high.

The next morning, I checked my discharge paperwork twice just to make sure your name was actually on there and I hadn’t dreamt the whole thing. ”

I chuckle, picturing Regan stoned off a tray of chocolate brownies. No wonder she was so quiet when I walked into her hospital room. She was probably freaking out even more than I was.

“So… what was all that commotion about when you walked into the bar?” she asks, changing the subject again.

I shrug, trying to downplay it. “Ah, nothing. Not a big deal.”

A guy sitting next to me at the bar who I hadn’t noticed earlier leans over with a conspiratorial whisper. “He saved a baby’s life today. Whole town’s been obsessing over the good doctor here.” He squeezes my shoulder in an affectionate way.

“What?” Regan gasps, eyes going wide as saucers.

I shake my head. “It was a toddler.”

“What happened?” she presses, leaning closer.

“Nothing. Just a little choking incident. No big deal.”

“Baby was blue in the face,” the old man cuts in, his voice a touch too loud. “Doctor Walker brought him back to life. It’s all anyone’s been talking about tonight.”

I glare at him—not because he’s lying, but because he’s not but I don’t need everyone rehashing what happened. And I really don’t need Regan looking at me like I just descended from heaven with a halo.

Compliments have never sat well with me.

Blame my dad, who drilled it into me that pride was the devil’s playground, and I’d never amount to anything worth value.

“Compliments made you soft” , he’d say, which was rich coming from a man whose fists never missed their mark.

Even if he had tossed an occasional compliment my way, which he never did, it wouldn’t have softened those blows.

“Thanks…?” I trail off, raising a brow at the old man.

“Smythe,” he says, grinning like we’re old friends already.

Regan leans over the bar, propping herself up on her elbows as she looks at me with softer eyes. “Smythe’s a town legend. He and Cash hang out together at the high school football games when my nephew plays.”

“Of course they do,” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else. “I take it Cash is one of your many brothers?”

She nods. “He is, but don’t change the subject. That’s really incredible that you saved that baby’s life.”

“Yeah,” I say flatly, not wanting to dive any deeper into this conversation. I might’ve been able to keep the kid breathing, but the praise that comes with it? That’s a whole different beast I’d rather let go.

Regan seems to pick up on my mood shift. “Well… is there anything I can get you to eat tonight?” she asks, her voice softer now, careful.

I wave her off, even though my stomach’s growling like I haven’t eaten all day.

“Nah, I’m good. Already ate. Probably just gonna head out, turn in early. Gotta be up for a shift at the hospital in the morning.”

She nods. “Well, it was nice to see you tonight.” And then gives me a rare, small smile and a wave before disappearing through the management door in the back.

I watch her go, feeling a weird mix of relief and regret.

I didn’t mean to kill the vibe with my piss mood, but conversations like this always mess me up.

Compliments twist me up inside, and my default reaction is to self-sabotage.

Always has been. Unfortunately, that’s one thing I haven’t grown out of in my old age.

Smythe leans closer once she’s out of earshot, his breath heavy with whiskey and beer.

“You got the hots for the Marshall sister, eh?”

I pause, not sure how to answer that question because I most certainly do. “I don’t know…” I trail off.

He grins, wide and knowing. “Prettiest girl in town. Sweetest soul too. I know you’re new here, doctor boy, but give it time. Once you’ve looked around, you’ll see. There’s no one in this town like her.”

Yeah. People keep telling me that.

And that’s the damn problem.