Second First Kiss

Chapter 7

Sage

“Iwhat?” Sage nearly dropped her phone from where it was cradled between her chin and her shoulder. Really, she shouldn’t take a call while she was on duty at the hospital, but when Mom or Dad called, she made it a rule to answer. “I didn’t.”

“You won the grand prize bid.” Mom had loud choir music playing in the background. “Although, I’m sure it was a mistake. Energy of the moment. From what I’ve heard, he is not really a good match for you. Wrong age. Wrong reputation.”

Sage winced and ducked into a dim and empty patient room. Any given number of men at that table last night could have been the bachelor she’d bid on. “Who is it?” Please say it’s not the Leer.

“That Jasher Hotchkiss person.” Mom sounded like she’d just tasted sauerkraut for the first time. “I don’t hear good things about him.”

“Jasher!” He’d been the one with the five-date list? “Seriously?”

“You’re on a first name basis?”

“He, uh, works at the hospital.”

“And you don’t call him Dr. Hotchkiss?”

Yeah, no. She and Kennedy called him Dr. Hot Kiss instead.

I’m going on five dates with Jasher Hotchkiss. As a third-date kisser by rule, Sage catapulted through a time machine back to that luscious first encounter with the now-much-hotter doctor. Her upper lip tingled, and she bit it.

“I knew him a little in high school. We’ve been in the operating room together.” And had a warm encounter or two, not far from here—eye flirtations and such. “Sorry for the temporary freak-out. The bidding was blind. I didn’t realize his list was where I placed my bid.”

“Well, even though rumors fly that he’s really deft with his scalpel, I get the sense people don’t like him.”

“Not you, too, Mom. I thought you of all people would be willing to ignore a rumor about a basketball game that happened a dozen years ago.”

Silence.

Finally, Mom spoke. “Um, I don’t know anything about basketball. What I do know is that Elaine Parrish supposedly has a son—not her sweet stepson Redmond—but another one. Bless Redmond’s heart, though. Hanging on all these years.”

“Jasher Hotchkiss is Mrs. Parrish’s son. What of it?”

“We ran into each other at the farmers’ market. Redmond is growing a garden these days.”

“And?” Mom had better not go on a tangent about fruits and vegetables.

“She said her son is planning to sell Dr. Parrish’s clinic as soon as possible.”

Sell it! Dr. Parrish’s clinic? But, no! Mendon Regional was already about three doctors shy of a full roster, even before Dr. Parrish died. What about the patients? And surgeries—where would emergencies go? Off to Reedsville by chopper? There was only one helicopter to air-lift people. What if there were two concurrent emergencies? What about everyone who needed Parrish’s clinic?

No. This couldn’t be true.

“He’s not staying in town to run it?” She kept an even tone.

“Well, he’s not exactly … you know. Popular. From what I hear.”

No. Certainly not. For whatever petty reason. “Popularity isn’t the sole requirement for a good surgeon.”

A great surgeon, that was. Nothing should have made Sage assume a surgeon as skilled as Jasher Hotchkiss would want to lend his talents to Mendon—considering how unwelcome he was. Last night’s heckling made her cringe.

“No, and I don’t know anything more except Elaine is very upset.”

“About letting her late husband’s clinic go to waste?”

“No, she wants Jasher to put down roots here.”