Page 3 of Tension with the Mountain Man (Silver Ridge Mountain Men #2)

three

Sally

I can't stop thinking about lunch with Tucker yesterday.

The way he looked at me, like he could see straight through every defense I've carefully constructed.

I’m running. From expectations, from the pressure to constantly prove myself, from the fear that maybe I'm not as good as everyone thinks I am.

Vancouver General offered me a position in their Emergency Department, and instead of being thrilled, I'm terrified.

What if I can't handle the pace? What if I'm just a small-town doctor who got lucky with early residency completion?

"Dr. Jacobson?" Bronwyn appears in my office doorway with two cups of coffee. "Thought you might need this."

"Bless you." I accept the cup gratefully. Bronwyn's been here longer than me, and she's become something of a lifeline in navigating Silver Ridge's unique medical challenges.

"So," she says, settling into the chair across from my desk with a knowing look. "Tucker Reeves."

I nearly choke on my coffee. "What about him?"

"He's been asking about you."

My heart does something ridiculous. "Asking what?"

"Nothing inappropriate," Bronwyn says quickly. "Just casual questions. How long you've been here, whether you like Silver Ridge, if you're planning to stay." She pauses, studying my face. "He's different from the usual loggers who come through here."

"Different how?"

"Quieter. More thoughtful. And he actually follows medical advice instead of arguing about it." She grins. "Plus, he's easy on the eyes."

I feel heat creep up my neck. "I hadn't noticed."

"Right." Bronwyn's expression turns more serious. "Sally, can I ask you something? Are you happy here?"

The question catches me off guard. "What do you mean?"

"You work constantly. You never socialize, never date, never seem to do anything just for fun. You're brilliant at your job, but you seem..." She searches for the right words. "Lonely."

Lonely. I've been so focused on proving myself, on being the perfect doctor, that I've forgotten how to be a person.

"Actually," I hear myself saying, "there is something I should tell you. Vancouver General offered me a position in their ER."

Bronwyn's eyebrows shoot up. "That's huge! Congratulations!"

"I haven't accepted yet."

"Why not? That's exactly the kind of opportunity you've been working toward, isn't it?"

"I thought so. But now..." I trail off, not sure how to finish that sentence.

"Now?"

"Now I'm not sure what I want anymore." I take a sip of coffee, buying time. "When I came here, I thought it would be temporary. A stepping stone to something bigger. But Silver Ridge has grown on me. The work is challenging in different ways, and the community..."

"And Tucker Reeves?"

I give her a sharp look. "What about him?"

"Come on, Sally. I saw the way you looked at him during his follow-up visit. And the way he looked at you." She leans forward. "When's the last time you were interested in someone?"

"I don't have time for relationships."

"That's not what I asked."

She's right. The truth is, I haven't been truly interested in a man since... well, maybe ever. I've dated, had relationships, but nothing that made me feel the way Tucker did with just a simple conversation over lunch.

My phone buzzes with a text message. Tucker's name on the screen makes my pulse quicken.

Coffee this afternoon? If you have time.

"Is that him?" Bronwyn asks, noting my expression.

I nod, staring at the message.

"What are you going to say?"

What am I going to say? The smart thing would be to decline. I'm supposed to be focused on my career, on the Vancouver decision. Getting involved with a local, especially a patient, is the last thing I should be doing.

But God, I want to see him again.

How about 4? I type back.

His response comes immediately: See you there.

"I'm going to regret this," I mutter.

"Or you're going to finally start living a little," Bronwyn counters. "Sally, you're twenty-six years old. You're allowed to have a personal life."

An hour later, I find myself standing outside Pine & Percolate, smoothing my scrubs and wondering what the hell I'm doing. I never meet patients for coffee. I don't date locals. I keep my professional and personal lives completely separate.

But then I see Tucker through the window, and all my careful rules seem ridiculous.

He's waiting at a corner table, hands wrapped around a coffee cup, and when he sees me, his face lights up with a smile that makes my stomach flip. I've never had a man look at me like that—like I'm something precious, something worth waiting for.

"Hey," he says as I slide into the seat across from him.

"Hey yourself." I order my usual—large coffee, black—and try to ignore the way my body responds to his presence. "How's the shoulder?"

"Good as new. You do excellent work." He pauses, studying my face. "Rough day?"

"No more than usual.”

Tucker laughs, a rich, warm sound that makes me want to hear it again. "Small-town medicine."

"Exactly." I take a sip of coffee. He's wearing a clean flannel shirt and jeans, his hair still damp from a recent shower, and there's something about his presence that makes me feel safe. Protected. Like I could tell him anything and he wouldn't judge me for it.

What is happening to me?

“Can I tell you something?” he asks.

I nod.

He's quiet for a moment, considering his words. "You seem like someone who's spent her whole life trying to prove she belongs. Like you're constantly looking over your shoulder, waiting for someone to figure out you don't deserve to be where you are."

The accuracy of his observation steals my breath. "That's very perceptive."

"Am I wrong?"

"No." The admission feels like stepping off a cliff. "I finished residency two years early. I was the youngest in my program, the only woman in several of my rotations. I got used to having to work twice as hard to be taken half as seriously."

"And now?"

"Now I don't know how to stop. I don't know how to just... be good enough as I am."

"You are good enough," he says with quiet certainty. "More than good enough."

"How can you be so sure? You barely know me."

"I know you've never once made anyone feel stupid for coming to you with their problems, no matter how minor." His gaze holds mine steadily. "Small towns talk, Sally. And what they say about you is that you care. That's worth more than any degree."

Tears prick at my eyes unexpectedly. When was the last time someone saw me so clearly? When was the last time someone looked past my credentials to see the person underneath?

"Thank you," I whisper.

"For what?"

"For seeing me. The real me, not just the doctor."

Something intense flickers in his eyes. "I'd like to see more of the real you, if you'll let me."

The words hang between us, heavy with implication. This is my chance to back away, to maintain professional boundaries, to focus on my career and the Vancouver decision.

Instead, I hear myself saying, "I'd like that too."

"Good. How about dinner tomorrow night? My place. I promise to cook something that doesn't require medical attention afterward."

I laugh despite myself. "That's quite a promise."

"I aim to exceed expectations."