Stories of family and romance beneath the Big Sky!
When had touching Summer, holding her, begun to feel so right?
Scowling at the thought, Gavin tried to convince himself he was imagining things. Their marriage was a business arrangement, nothing more or less, and even if it hadnât been, he wasnât looking for a relationship.
But knowing that and remaining indifferent to Summer were two different things.
Continuing to scowl, he vowed to keep his hands to himself from that moment on, and just that easily, he set himself an impossible task. Because now that heâd decided not to touch her, she only had to shift slightly in her seat beside him for him to want her.
It was, he decided grimly, going to be a long year.
The previous August
G avin stared down at the message that he was wanted in his bossâs office as soon as possible and swore under his breath. He didnât have to know what this was about to know that it wasnât good. Whatever else Michael Preston wasâand as Chief of Surgery at Whitehorn Memorial Hospital, heâd been called more than a few choice names over the yearsâhe wasnât insensitive to the pressure of the work his surgeons performed. He wanted them calm, cool, and collected when they walked into the operating room, so he made sure any discussions he had with his residents was restricted until after surgery. Or at least, he always had before.
But then again, heâd never had one of his surgeons accused of murder before, either.
His square-cut face set in harsh lines, Gavin was tempted to ignore Michaelâs missive and to meet with him later, after surgery. Whatever beef Preston had could wait. Gavinâs patients came first with him. Since his arrest, work was the only thing that kept him sane. With the rest of his life in turmoil, he couldnât take a chance on screwing up his residency. Scowling, he strode down the hall to Michaelâs office.
Seated at his desk, the older man was waiting for him, his expression grim. Gavin greeted him with a curt nod. The nerves in his stomach clenched in a fist, but he had no intention of letting Preston or anyone else see him sweat. Heâd learned the hard way to protect his thoughts. His own face impassive, he shut the door behind him and stood stiffly in front of Prestonâs desk. âYou wanted to see me?â
To his credit, Michael didnât try to lighten the moment with frivolous chitchat, but instead got right to the point. âSit down, Gavin. A situation has arisen that I think you need to be made aware of.â
He preferred to stand, but this wasnât the time to draw lines in the sand. Dropping into the chair positioned across from Michaelâs desk, he stretched his long legs out in front of him and mentally braced for whatever was about to come. âYou might as well give it to me straight. This has something to do with the trial, doesnât it?â
He didnât bother to deny it. âYou know the hospitalâs policy regarding the charges against you. Youâre innocent until proven guilty.â
âIf you called me in here to tell me the hospital knows itâs only a matter of time before that happens, you wasted your time,â he said flatly, irritation flashing in his dark eyes. âI know the evidence looks damning, but I didnât kill Christina Montgomery. And somehow Iâm going to prove it.â
âI hope you do,â the other man said honestly. âYouâre a damn fine surgeon. We need you around here. The problem, though, isnât the administration. Itâs your coworkers. More than a few of them have doubts about your innocence.â
He wasnât telling Gavin anything he didnât already know. He was aware of how a majority of the staff felt about him. As had most of the people in town, theyâd rushed to judgment the second theyâd heard heâd been charged with Christinaâs murder. Trying and convicting him, they hadnât stopped to consider the fact that all the evidence against him was circumstantial or that he wasnât a violent man. He was a doctor, for Godâs sake, and in the business of saving lives, not taking them.
And if he was going to kill someone, it certainly wouldnât be the mother of his baby girl. Heâd never loved Christinaâtheir relationship had been little more than a one-night standâbut he certainly hadnât hated her or wanted her dead. If anything, heâd felt sorry for her and had only tried to help her once heâd found out she was pregnant. And because of that, people now thought he was a murderer.
âI canât control what people think,â he said curtly. âIf they want to believe Iâm a murderer, thatâs their problem.â