Falling for the Dr (A Small Town Medical RomCom)

I appreciated that my hometown was so filled with people who wanted to see me happy, even if they only wanted what they thought would make me happy. If they knew the truth, that what I really wanted was a woman who was happy to keep things casual, they might die of shock.

Teddy

“Teddy, this place is too small. There’s hardly any room to breathe in here.” My brother Vincenzo tossed a pen across his big metal desk and groaned. “We need to talk about expanding the offices.”

I shook my head. “Good morning to you, too, Vince. Think I can take a seat and drink my coffee before we have this conversation for the millionth time?” It was the same old song and dance with him.

“That’s what you say now, but after coffee you’ll have another excuse to put off this conversation. I’m suffocating in here, Teddy.”

I barked out a laugh and dropped down in my seat behind my much smaller, much more accommodating wooden desk. “Suffocating, seriously? Most of the day it’s just you in here; sometimes there’s a supplier, but mostly it’s just you. If you’re suffocating, maybe you should spend a day or two out on one of the sites with us, get some fresh air.”

“Teddy, please.”

I wasn’t interested in expanding. “Vince, it’s a waste of money. I know what you’re gonna say: business is good. Yeah, it is, but this is a fickle business and here in Jackson’s Ridge we’re at the mercy of weather, the beef market, and the real estate market. It’s a lot of money just to give you a bit more leg room.”

“Leg room?” He choked on the words as his dark eyes filled with outrage. “When the Costello brothers came last week, Mark broke a chair and we could hardly fit another one in here for him. That’s embarrassing.”

“For him,” I shot back with a laugh. “If I say I’ll think about it, can we get started on new business, please?”

Vincenzo’s lips pulled into a smile and he leaned back in his chair. “That depends, did you get me a coffee?”

“I wouldn’t call it coffee since there’s more ice, milk, and caramel in it than coffee, but yeah, I got your imitation coffee drink.” It sat on the far corner of my desk, where it would stay until I got confirmation we were moving on.

“Fine,” he growled. “New business.”

I handed him the cup with a smile. “What do we have this week?”

Every Monday, Vincenzo and I met to discuss what jobs were on the schedule for the week, along with expenses, budgetary issues, and the inevitable problems. He was my older brother, but he had happily come to work for me when I opened my construction business.

After an absurdly long sip of his sugar and coffee, Vince smiled. “Busy week. A complete home reno, a mudroom addition, a man cave and a she shed on the same property, a basement expansion, and a small job at the Gibbons home.”

“What do the Gibbonses need?”

“A wet bar.” It was an easy job that wouldn’t take a lot of resources. “And the best part? Everyone paid half up front, which means the books are looking good. Really good.”

Even though I looked at the company books every week, Vincenzo’s words allowed a little of the tension in my shoulders to relax. It was especially nice because not everyone thought a woman could run a construction business, and many had tried to talk me into another line of work, life at a bakery or café, even a bookstore.

“I guess I didn’t need your pretty mug to be the face of the business, after all,” I teased him.

“Not that it wouldn’t have helped tremendously, but we all knew you could do this, Theodora.”

“You guys did, but not everyone.”

Vince shrugged. “Everyone else has shit for brains. Family is what matters, you know that.”

I nodded because I did know that. My Ricci stubbornness was a family trait that, when combined with working my ass off for the past five years, had turned Teddy Brothers Construction into a success. “When you’re right, you’re right. Happy?”

“I’ll be happy when I can move around this office without bumping into someone or something.”

I shook my head and stood. “Don’t you ever get sick of that song? I swear you sing it every week.” He tossed a napkin at me. “I’ll take care of the Gibbons job myself, that way I’ll be free to check in on the other sites throughout the week.”

Rob Gibbons had taken up mixology since retiring from the fire department, but he didn’t talk much and he didn’t meddle, unlike his wife Mel.

“Figured you’d say that. I already sent you a list of who’s at what job this week. Rob is expecting a consult at eleven, so you better get going.”

Jackson’s Ridge was a small town—it took about ten minutes to get anywhere, including the two-story colonial where Rob and Mel Gibbons lived.