By the time I’d walked Jada out of the clinic, it was late, well after closing time. Alicia, our receptionist, was long gone, the front desk empty, and since Dr. Dicknose liked to do anything but work, I assumed he was gone, too. Which was too bad, really, considering the high I felt right now, confidence cloaking me as I strode down the hallway, knowing I’d helped a patient he’d been failing for years.
It was just more proof that my move back here to my small hometown was the right one, despite the…less than welcoming reception I’d received from him upon my arrival. One would’ve thought I’d come to tarnish his reputation instead of trying to salvage it. The man was in desperate need of retiring—something he’d be able to do, if only he would accept my offer to purchase the practice.
I turned the corner toward my office and stopped short, nearly running straight into Dr. Dicknose himself as he strolled out of his office. He was an older white guy in his late sixties. He wasn’t overly tall—just under six feet, if I had to guess, since I could look him in the eye if I was wearing heels. Which, considering how much he hated it, I tried to do on a daily basis. He kept himself fairly fit, his white hair the only real tell of his age.
As much as I loathed running into him, I wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip by. Since arriving back in Starlight Cove and starting my employment here with the specific intent to eventually own this clinic, I’d tried the calm and pleasant tack. I’d tried befriending him, much as it pained me. I’d tried the we-have-history tack since he was my father’s closest friend. Hell, I’d even tried bribery—not my finest moment, but at least we’d all benefited from catered meals made by the incomparable Beck McKenzie.
None of them had worked.
Apparently it was time for the zero-shits-given tack.
“Oh, good. You’re still here,” I said.
He jingled his keys, barely sparing me a glance. “Not for long. Have a mess you need me to clean up?”
I barely held in my snort of disbelief. The man was so delusional, it was baffling. “Actually, I cleaned up yours. I just finished an appointment with Jada Westing.”
“And?”
“Andyou’ve been brushing off her symptoms for years.”
He rolled his eyes, swiping his hand through the air as if her problems were a gnat he could swat away. “She’s overweight and constantly complained about menstruating. Much as I would love to wave a magic wand and not have to deal with the female population’s monthly issues ever again, I’m afraid that’s just not possible. It’s something she’ll have to learn to live with. Surely she’s figured that out at some point in her thirty-five years.”
I huffed out a disbelieving breath, my mouth dropping open as I stared at him. “She’s suffered with undiagnosed PCOS foryearsbecause you dismissed her very real pain and couldn’t be bothered to do your job. But don’t worry—I did it for you. I’ve finally got her on a treatment plan, and hopefully it’ll be enough to salvage her ability to have children.”
“Oh, relax. You’re being a bit dramatic, don’t you think? I’m certain her inability to conceive has more to do with her weight than anything else.”
I clenched my hands into fists at my sides. God, what I wouldn’t give to punch this asshole right in his smug face. “I’m not sure if you are purposefully being this obtuse, or if it’s a special ability reserved for me, but let me spell this out for you—my findings just saved this clinic and your ass.”
He snorted. “From what?”
“At worst? A malpractice suit. At best, a PR nightmare. That wouldn’t look great, considering the reason I’m here in the first place.”
That hit the bull’s-eye if the tightening of his thin lips was any indication. “What is it you need, Ms. Cartwright?”
I ground my teeth together at his overemphasis on Ms. instead of Dr., a designationhewould have demanded from anyone. “I’m done beating around the bush. We both know there’s only one reason I came back and agreed to work here in the first place. I want to know what it’s going to take for you to finally retire and sell me this practice.”
“To put it bluntly? For hell to freeze over. I have no intention of selling this practice to you, now or ever.”
Anger heated my cheeks, my face flushing. After years in a male-dominated field, I should’ve been used to this. Should’ve been ready to handle anything he lobbed my way. Especially since this man had been a fixture in my life much longer than that. But the truth of the matter was, I neverwantedto get used to it.
“You and I both know this clinic would be better off in my hands. And so would your patients,” I said through clenched teeth, trying and failing to tamp down my anger.
“What I know is that this is a small-townfamilypractice, and you are a single woman in her thirties with no prospects on the horizon. What I knowis that I will not have my family legacy disparaged and brought down by some kind of feminist revenge plot.”
I barked out a laugh. “Oh my God. Now who’s being dramatic?”
He sniffed and moved to walk past me. “My mind is made up, Ms. Cartwright. The practice is still open to buyers—suitablebuyers who understand and embody family values.”
“Lay it out for me in simple terms. What would I need to become a ‘suitable’ buyer?”
He slid a disdainful glance over me from head to toe, dismissing me just as quickly. “Something that isn’t in the cards for you.”
“Humor me.”
“A husband.”
Even though I knew in my gut that had been his endgame, it didn’t make hearing it any easier. Whether I had a husband should have been irrelevant whenIwas the one who had gone to med school. Who’d worked as hard—harder—than any male colleagues in my field to get where I was. Who’d put in the grueling hours, who’d sacrificed for this career. Having someone else’s last name wasn’t suddenly going to boost my credentials.
