Annie O'Neil - The Surgeon's Christmas Wish

“Will you have the regular, dear?” Marian interjected, seemingly oblivious to the verbal sparring match being played out in front of her muffin display.

“Yes, please, Marian, and could you also add on whatever Dr. MacKenzie would like as well? We wouldn’t want him thinking we are bereft of manners out here in the wilds of Deer Creek.”

There was that fiery glint in Tara’s eyes again. How playfully or not it shone was up in the air.

She sure was a live wire. Even so, the last thing Fraser wanted was for Tara to think he was a sexist pig. Women were paramount in his life. His mother had almost single-handedly raised him and his brother, with their father’s military career consuming most of his time. And his brother’s wife? Well, he had met few people who could hold a candle to the strength and determination she had shown the past few years. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing the images of his family to stay behind the door he’d had to shut four years ago. They were better off without him.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

“And why is that, exactly?” Tara’s dark eyes held his gaze, genuinely curious.

“Because we are professionals and while you may run the clinic, I am quite able to fend for myself.”

“No one’s doubting your ability to buy a blueberry muffin, Dr. MacKenzie. What I am doubting, is your ability to accept some Deer Creek hospitality.”

Fraser was a master at keeping his cool and he was damned if he was going to blow his top over who was or wasn’t going to buy a blueberry muffin. This whole palaver would be a lot easier if Tara didn’t make a glaring expression and firmly crossed arms look so attractive. Fraser was no chauvinist, but he certainly was about as red-blooded a male as they came.

He took a level breath and continued, “Where I come from, manners are paramount.” He saw her eyes narrow dubiously. “It is not unusual for a new employee to greet their boss with a purely professional, no-strings-attached latte and a …” he glanced at the counter as Marian brought out a huge plate of pancakes and a steaming pitcher of syrup “… very impressive plate of pancakes.”

Marian leaned in before Tara could respond. “Keep this one on, honey. I think we’ll like having him around the place.”

Tara shot her friend an I-love-you-but-you’re-not-really-helping look.

Okay. He definitely had charming and suave covered. Not so sure about the “professional” part.

Good grief. Chill out, Tara! Fraser seemed sincere enough. And her last comment had clearly hit a nerve. Not entirely sure which nerve, but there was definitely more going on than met the eye with this man. Anyhow, she hadn’t heard the entire conversation with Marian so it wasn’t entirely fair to judge. Eat your pancakes and let it go! Besides, staring into those startlingly azure eyes of his wasn’t exactly helping her focus. Neither was the fact that he had called her a drill sergeant. Maybe she’d pushed the cool and reserved boss thing a bit too far.

This wasn’t fair! She had worked hard to get herself back to the fun-loving person she had always been before New York and now she was coming across all grouchy and horrible.

“I’ll throw in one of Marian’s salted caramel brownies for later if that will seal the deal.” Fraser tipped his head in the direction of her absolutely favorite indulgence and gave her a knowing wink.

“Now, let’s not go overboard.” It was difficult to keep a smile from creeping onto her lips. The man was good. No doubt about it. “A plate of pancakes will suffice to give us a clean slate.” Tara knew she sounded churlish but she didn’t want Fraser to think his charming smile was actually making her go weak at the knees. Which it was. Or that his long-lashed wink had unleashed a reel of goose-bumps up her arms. Which it had. But she had to ignore that now and act like his boss. Which she was.

Arghhhh! Why didn’t she ask for photos of her applicants?

“For heaven’s sake, honey.” She felt Marian poking her arm playfully. “Let the man buy you a brownie. You know they’re your favorite and they were freshly baked this morning!” Marian adorned her sales pitch with a musical trill as Fraser put on what she imagined was his best contrite expression.

“Thank you. I gratefully accept.” Tara quickly whisked her pancakes off the counter and made her way to a window table before she made a bigger fool of herself. Any more deep and meaningful eye contact with Dr. Fraser MacKenzie would be a swan dive into a danger zone she didn’t want to enter. Not in a million years.

Tara took advantage of his turned back to lean her head against the cool window for a moment before pulling her fingers through her hat-head hair. She could hear Fraser laugh quietly with Marian as he settled the bill. Even across the room that sexy voice of his put her senses on high alert. Who was she kidding? Every single thing about the man had her feeling more alive than she’d ever felt and she’d only known him for a New York second. New York. The place that had taught her how important it was to be careful—guarded. To look after number one.

Sighing, she picked up her fork and stabbed at a pancake. Maybe she was a bit uptight. But that was hardly her fault. Life had taught her to be wary and Fraser was setting off all of her alarm bells. Besides, she primly reminded herself, he had nearly had a serious collision with her this morning so she had a right to be cross with him. And another thing! Did he have to be so—so accurate in assessing her character when they’d known each other less than five minutes? She would have to be tough. Cool. Professional.

“One gingerbread latte for the good doctor.”

Uh-oh. Was that Scottish accent of his going to get her every time?

“HOW DID YOU know to get me a gingerbread latte?”

“I had some help.” Fraser nodded towards Marian, who threw a coy beauty-queen wave in their direction.

Tara couldn’t help but give him a smile of thanks as he pushed the steaming mug of cinnamon-scented coffee across the table. Poor sap didn’t know he was being used. Marian had been trying to set her up with just about every male with a pulse she’d met since she’d arrived in Deer Creek just over a year ago. Heartbroken. No. Heart shut. Heart shut for good. Which was exactly why she and ol’ Dr. MacKenzie here needed to get things off to a more professional start.

“How’s the little boy doing?”

Tick! Top marks for starting off with a work question, Fraser.

“He’ll be fine, thank goodness. His wrist was sprained, which was the worst of it. He had a small cut on his forehead, but no concussion.”

“I suppose you get your fair share of sprains up here.”

Tara sat back in the worn leather chair and laughed, relieved to be back on familiar terrain: doctor talk. “Not to mention broken clavicles, arms, legs. The regular business is in ligaments. I’m sure you’ll agree it’s the same in every ski resort, but by the end of the season you’ll be examining medial collateral and anterior cruciate ligament injuries in your sleep!”

He liked how her eyes crinkled when she laughed. In fact, Fraser liked how Tara’s whole face lit up when she spoke about medicine. It clearly fuelled her.

“Oh, and I forgot to say, I do a couple of voluntary shifts every couple of weeks at the local hospital in the ER. I’m sure Valley Hospital would welcome it if you followed suit but it’s by no means required.”

“To see patients from the clinic?” Fraser was impressed. Tara really seemed to see things through with her patients.

“No, not really. I mean, if they’re there, obviously I’d see them, but it helps me keep all of my skills up to speed and, more importantly, I don’t want the locals thinking we are a bunch of elite medics who swan in and out with the good snow. It’s mostly about giving a bit back to the community. Proving we’re here for the long haul.”

Fraser’s grip tightened on his coffee mug. Ouch. That one had hit a bullseye.

“How about altitude sickness? Much of a problem with that?”

Tara pushed her lips forward in a let-me-think-about-it-for-a-second expression. She was clearly unaware of the fact that her thinking pout was about as close an invitation to give her lips a languorous après-ski kiss as you could get. Fraser shifted in his chair. Lasting this season bachelor-style was definitely going to be a bit tougher than he’d thought.

“Not too much,” she continued, oblivious to the not-necessarily-unpleasant sensations Fraser was experiencing. “I’ve only been here a year or so, but the only altitude sickness case I’ve come across was a couple who went heli-skiing who hadn’t been before. The chopper crew got to them before any of their symptoms became too severe and we were able to get them home safely.”

Helicopters. Fraser felt his lips twitch involuntarily. He hadn’t been behind the controls of a helicopter since … Well, long enough that he shouldn’t be having a physical reaction at the mention of a helicopter. Maybe he should’ve talked to someone about it when he’d had the chance. Someone in the forces.

Who was he kidding? It had only been recently he’d felt anywhere near being able to speak about that day. But not to just anyone. If he were to open up, which was unlikely, he would need to speak to someone who could understand precisely how scarred he felt. The chances of finding someone else who could understand what it was like to be responsible for their own brother’s death, leaving his wife a widow and two children fatherless—well—they were pretty small.

“Many deaths?” It slipped out. Sounded too keen. He felt a scowl form.

“No. Sorry to disappoint you.” Tara’s dark eyes turned quizzical, obviously wondering why a lack of extreme trauma would upset someone who’d taken the Hippocratic oath to care and protect.

“We do get the odd spinal injury, and the rescue crews have seen their share of fatalities over the years. To be honest, I try not to dwell on the extreme cases, because it just means someone’s life has gotten a whole lot harder.”

Fraser sighed heavily, nodding in agreement. He could relate to that. “It’s part of the job. Seeing people’s lives, their dreams, come to an abrupt halt.”

Tara felt herself examining Fraser more closely. The cavalier guy who’d been trying to win her over with her favorite coffee seemed to have been spirited away. There was something he wasn’t telling her. Something dark. Was he lost in the same black hole she’d been pushed into after her ex had betrayed her? She scanned his face. Maybe she’d been too quick to judge.

Don’t go there, Tara. He’s male. Emotions only run skin deep. No loyalty.

“Listen.” She stabbed her fork into a final triangle of pancake. “I’d bet none of the injuries we have here are different from what you’ve seen at any other ski resort. Probably the biggest difference up here in Deer Creek are the bears.”

“Bears?” Fraser felt his eyebrows raise a little too high. Had his voice risen too? Unlikely.

Tara laughed and clapped her hands, “You should see yourself! A big strong man like you getting all nervy over a little grizzly bear.”

So she thought he was big and strong, eh? That was a plus. Little grizzly bear? Yeah, right. Fraser cleared his throat, trying to regain some professional composure.

“What do you do in the cases of a severe injury on the slopes?”