Page 16 of Paging Dr. Summers

“It’s embarrassing, and it wasn’t what I was meant to do with my life.”

I tilted my head. “Why does it have to be one or the other? A singing doctor could help put patients at ease,” I teased.

His lips twitched into an almost grin. “Regardless, being a doctor is my real calling.”

“Do you ever sing anymore?” I was curious to know.

“Only in the car and in the shower.”

I bet that was a sexy sight. Crap. Scratch that thought. If I entertained visions of Logan singing in the shower, my nervous giggles and word vomiting were going to make a comeback.

“Since we’re in a car, will you sing for me?”

“No can do. This is a truck.” He smirked.

I rolled my eyes. “Very clever, Doctor. But someday, before this summer is through, I’m going to hear you sing.” Though that was probably a bad idea. A man who could sing well was my kryptonite. Logan’s sexy speaking voice was already tempting enough. If he ever sang for me, I would probably forget he wasn’t looking for any romantic entanglements and that he’d had a perfect wife whom I would never measure up to.

“Good luck with that.” He threw open his door and exited the truck.

I jumped out on my side. “Challenge accepted.”

He confidently chuckled in the richest timbre, which only made me want to hear him sing more.

Together, we walked across the full parking lot, both making sure to keep our distance from each other. I didn’t want to look like a couple. I never knew when I might run into the man I was meant to have a summer fling with. Assuming there was such a man out there. At the very least, I was hoping for a few dates while I was in town.

“So, what should I be looking for in a paddleboard?” I asked, changing the subject. My plan was to lull him into a false sense of security so he would relax around me, and I would catch him singing unaware. I wasn’t sure why, but I knew I had to hear him sing.

“Given you’re a beginner, you should probably buy an all-round board. You might also think about a wet suit. The water is only around sixty degrees right now.”

I shivered for effect. One of my bucket list items was to go skinny-dipping. Had Mom not known how cold the lake water was? Yikes. “I’ll definitely get a wet suit.”

As Logan graciously held the door open, I stepped inside the opulent sporting goods store. The scent of leather and polished wood tickled my nose. The sounds of distant chatter and soft music filled the air, while the gleaming displays of high-end equipment dazzled my eyes. Before that summer, I could never afford to go shopping at a store like that. I almost felt guilty knowing how much money I would probably spend there.

I assumed my father, whoever he was, probably shopped at stores like this, given the sizable sum of money he’d paid to silence my mom. Part of me continued to think I should have saved it all for a rainy day or rainy months. It was some pretty serious cash. But I knew that would disappoint Mom. And I was taking life to the limit this summer.

“Paddleboards are toward the back.” Logan led the way.

I followed him, looking around at all the shoppers in designer clothes. I felt out of place in my cutoffs and tee. Sporting goods stores were different in Nebraska. Back home, I’d seen people walking around them drinking cans of beer they’d crush against their heads while shopping. Here, I was waiting for a fancy server to show up and ask me if I’d like some sparkling water or a glass of chardonnay.

I had to wonder why Mom loved Aspen Lake so much. She honestly fit in more with the beer-guzzling and can-crushing crowd. I could never see her wearing anything made by Ralph Lauren or Tory Burch, like the women nearby dripping in brand names while they perused the merchandise. Not that there was anything wrong with that style. Sometimes I wished I could afford designer clothing.

It was just that my mom spent her girl rock days mostly in dive bars and county fairgrounds. She’d proudly told me once how she could drink any man under the bar. But there was something about Aspen Lake that had called to her. I could see it in her eyes every time she’d spoken about it. Something about this town had captured her heart. I supposed she’d wanted me to discover that magic too.

As we walked toward the back, I noticed a few women ogle Logan. I kept my distance from him, though I knew those women had no hope of snagging the sexy doctor. His heart belonged to Erica. Logan’s devotion to his deceased wife was sweet and refreshing. I hoped if I ever got the chance to get married and I passed away before my husband, that he would mourn for me the way Logan clearly did for Erica.

Those same women eyed me, clearly questioning a possible relationship between Logan and me. That was a big fat no. I wanted to tell them as much, but that seemed like something only Roxanne Crawford was capable of. I smiled, picturing Mom whispering conspiratorially to the women, telling them she would never date someone as beautiful as the doctor. She’d believed beautiful men were trouble. I had a feeling my father was one of those beautiful, troublesome men. But I would never know.

Logan and I stopped in front of the paddleboards of every shape and size, mostly in bright colors.

“All right, Paddleboard Master, which one?” I bowed to him like I was his padawan.

He shook his head and laughed before grabbing a ten-foot multicolored board in shades of mint, orange, and yellow. “This would be a good one for you. It’s made with Gatorshell.”

“Like an alligator?”

“No. Think strong plastic.”

“Gotcha. I don’t speak paddleboard yet.” I grabbed the board and admired it, unsure what I should be looking for other than the price tag, which made me a little queasy. But I reminded myself I had plenty of cash to burn this summer. “I’ll take it. Now, where are the wet suits?”

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