Before he can say anything, the door opens a crack.
"Maggie is on her way. If you have your keys, she’ll stop here and grab them," Joy says.
"I guess they’re in my purse."
Brice stands and grabs my purse from the counter, handing it to me. My keys are right on top and so is my cell phone. I resist the urge to check it and see what calls or texts I’ve missed. I'm not sure what to tell everyone just yet.
We spend the next twenty minutes getting me balanced on the crutches. Then Brice closes up the office.
"You don't have any more patients?" I ask.
"Nothing that couldn't be rescheduled."
"What about any other emergencies?"
He shrugs, locking the door behind me. "Believe it or not, they are few and far between. But most everyone here has my number. It's on the sign on the door and the office forwards it to my phone."
"No answering services?"
"No, City Girl. We’re a bit more personable out here," he chuckles just as a truck pulls into the parking lot.
"So much for sneaking out early."
"That's just Maggie," Brice says, walking over to her.
Rolling down her window, Maggie says, "They weren't joking. She’s pretty."
"I sure hope it wasn't Nick saying that," Brice says.
"You think I'd let him live if it was? No, Mrs. Willow called me, as did Abby, and even Savannah."
"News travels fast," I say.
"Well, it isn't often we have some big Dallas CEO here, much less one that gets hurt and stays at the Doc’s house."
"Speaking of." Brice hands her my keys.
"I'll bring the stuff in when I get there," Maggie nods.
"My phone charger, too, please!"
"I'll get it! Don’t you worry. See you two in a bit."
She circles around, leaving the parking lot. Brice helps me to his truck, takes the crutches from me, and makes sure I'm buckled in before going around to his side.
As we pull out of the parking lot, we pass the bed-and-breakfast. A minute later, we’re back at the main road with WJ's to my left.
I pull out my phone. "Time to face the music."
It's filled with texts, missed calls, and emails. I ignore them all and call the most important one–my dad.
"How did the big meeting go?" My dad asks when he picks up, proving he was waiting for my call.
"Not great, but, um, I need to know how to handle something." I glance over at Brice who gives me a quick look before setting his eyes back on the road.
"Do I need to be in Dad mode or business mode?" This is how we’ve separated work and family since I started working with him and it's kept my mom sane, to say the least.
"Let's start with Dad mode. When I was leaving, I missed my step and fell. Twisted my ankle and hit my head. I'm fine. My ankle is sprained, and I can't walk on it. Unfortunately, I have a mild concussion and am unable to drive back to Dallas."