Submitting to the Doctor (Cowboy Doms 7)

“Don’t you have to get to work?” she asked as he steered her out the front door.

“Not for a few hours. The clinic’s receptionist is rescheduling my morning appointments. This, and you are more important.”

She tried not to read too much into that grumbled statement that gave her a warm fuzzy. They didn’t find her phone in the smoke-damaged apartment, or any clothing that didn’t reek to the point of rendering it unsalvageable, so they drove to the precinct where Grayson was waiting for them. “What’s on your phone that someone would take such a risk for?” Grayson questioned as he wrote down her information.

“There’s nothing of importance on it, no banking information or credit cards. I’m very careful about that, so it had to be random.”

“No, it didn’t.” Grayson leaned back in his chair, removed the toothpick from his mouth and dropped a bombshell on her. “You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Brad McCabe being in the hospital, recovering from a brain bleed caused by a concussion, would you?”

Shock drained the blood from Lillian’s face, and it was only Mitchell’s large hand closing over hers on the armrest of the chair that kept her grounded as she worked her mind around that startling information. “I had no idea,” she murmured. “I swear, he was fine when I left, maybe a little dazed, but good enough to continue his tirade against my leaving.” She looked from the sheriff to Mitchell, resigned to reliving that morning for their benefit. “My sister was pronounced brain dead that morning, following six weeks in a coma and…” She paused, refusing to mention Brad’s blackmail, the reason she stayed. “And I’d had enough, wanted out to be alone to grieve. You should understand that,” she said to Mitchell, her tone accusatory with frustration.

“Continue,” was all he said.

Shrugging, she gave them the bare bones. “He came home to find me packed up, ready to go except for two large paintings I was carrying downstairs. I wasn’t expecting him, but he’d heard about Liana. He came at me, the first time he ever went for my face, and I realized how far he was willing to go this time. After the kick to my ribs, I managed to get up and swing the one painting I still held at him. The frame caught his temple and he went down. I ran out with him well enough to curse me, able to get help if he needed it. That was weeks ago.”

There was no censure or criticism on either man’s face. Grayson kept writing as he replied, “Since that’s out of my jurisdiction, I can’t get a doctor’s report. I’m waiting to hear back from his brother, hoping he’ll be open to talking.”

Lillian scoffed. “Don’t count on it. Bryan idolizes his baby brother, covers for him every time Brad gets so much as a speeding ticket.” Pushing to her feet, she gave in to the need for fresh air. “I have things to do. Are we done here?”

“For now.” Grayson nodded at Mitchell and he clasped her hand again and led her out.

As soon as they stepped out of the small precinct, she rounded on him, insisting, “I’m fine, before you ask. If you’ll take me back to get my car, you can get to work.”

“After breakfast. So you know,” he added, setting out toward the diner, “you will eventually have to reveal the rest of the story between you and McCabe.”

Lillian didn’t reply. She had enough to think about to keep her on edge for a while.

Mitchell hated that cloud of shame that darkened Lillian’s eyes whenever he mentioned her ex. She wasn’t a meek woman, or gullible, which meant there was a reason she’d stayed with the bastard after the first abusive incident. He tried not to push her for answers – at first because it was none of his business and he had believed he would never see her again after she left his cabin. Since then, he’d been waging a battle with himself over his growing interest in her and how far he was willing to let it go. He never considered another committed relationship was in the cards for him, and had been content with being among the lucky few who got to spend years with that one special person everyone hoped they would meet.

After taking her back to his place, he drove to the clinic admitting he wanted it all again, this time with someone who was the complete opposite of his beloved Abbie and yet, perfect for him as much as his wife had been. Lillian would keep him on his toes, challenge his dominant side and fill the void Abbie’s death had left in his life. He didn’t question how he could love two such opposite women, not after learning the hard way how short life really was. He didn’t go looking for another relationship, but he wasn’t going to waste any more time denying what was staring him in the face after she’d come so close to real harm from that fire.

Mitchell went into his office before seeing

the first patient and checked his calendar for the week. The clinic appointments were light, but he started his new once-a-week position as the on-call trauma surgeon at All Saints Hospital in Billings on Friday. As much as he had reaped the benefits of an easier, slower professional pace since relocating here, he had discovered he didn’t want to let his surgical skills lapse all together. Seeing no appointments scheduled as of yet on Wednesday afternoon, he blocked those hours off, planning to take Kurt up on his offer to bring Lillian out to the ranch for a ride. Leslie, a grade school teacher, was off this week for spring break, and the more he could aid Lillian in cultivating friendships here, the easier it would be to talk her into staying.

Between now and then, he was sure he could come up with a scene to take her mind off her troubles and demonstrate, once again, how much she enjoyed his sexual kinks.

For the first time since losing Abbie, Mitchell returned home after work without dreading the emptiness waiting for him. With signs of spring popping up came longer days and he found Lillian on the back porch perched in front of her easel wearing a paint-splattered smock and sad expression. She looked up as he stepped outside and those expressive eyes masked whatever she had been thinking about as a small smile tilted the corners of her lips.

“What’s up, Doc?”

“My hunger.” It was his turn to grin when arousal swirled in her eyes. “For dinner first, pet.” She didn’t disappoint him when she scowled.

“Why must you continue using that ridiculous nickname? I’m not hungry. Go away.” She waved her hand, dismissing him and picked up a paint brush.

It was then he noticed how pale she was, the dark circles under her eyes. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he asked, “Are you feeling okay?”

She shrugged him off, irritation lacing her voice as she replied without pausing in brandishing the bright blue paint onto the canvas. “You’re not my doctor anymore, remember? You ditched me, so you don’t get to ask about my health.”

“It’s not ethical to sleep with a patient,” he returned, his cool rebuke drawing a flush over her face that looked better than the fatigue. That hadn’t been his main concern at the time but acknowledging his deeper feelings didn’t negate that motive.

A chagrined wince crossed her face. “I didn’t think of that.” The doorbell chimed and she flicked him a rueful glance, arching her head back. “That’s the pizza I ordered. I hope you like the works. It’s already paid for.”

Mitchell pivoted to go back inside, tossing over his shoulder, “Evasive truths are the same as lying and have consequences. I’ll get it.”

“Saying I’m not hungry when I am doesn’t count,” she argued to his back.

Lillian’s buttocks clenched at that threat regardless of his mild tone. Needing a few minutes to get herself together, she soaked her brushes and brought her supplies inside, putting everything in the spare bedroom. She heard Mitchell talking to the delivery person then the front door close as she strolled into his bedroom. Upon exploring the house after she returned from a shopping trip into Billings, she discovered the kitchen wasn’t the only room in the middle of a renovation. The second bathroom was stripped to the studs, leaving the master bath her only choice.