Page 6 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

Severe Storm Warning: High winds, heavy rainfall, and potential power outages expected within the hour.

Cedar Springs didn’t mess around with storm forecasts. The town might’ve been quaint and cozy, but nature had a way of reminding us who was really in charge out here.

I tucked my phone into my coat pocket and glanced at the darkening sky. What had started as a warm, breezy afternoon was shifting fast—clouds now thick and heavy, the scent of rain clinging to the air like a promise. Or a threat.

A voice behind me broke the moment.

“You really don’t believe in the concept of compromise, do you?”

I turned just in time to see Ruby marching toward me, her arms full of florals, fabric swatches, and what I could only assume was a clipboard covered in rhinestones. She stopped beside me under the awning; cheeks flushed with irritation—or maybe just from walking uphill in heels that had no business being worn in a town with cobblestone sidewalks.

“Compromise,” I said, “implies that both parties are operating with logic. That’s been… inconsistent in our case.”

She gasped like I’d insulted her cat. “Excuse me?”

“You brought glitter to a planning meeting.”

She held up a finger. “That glitter was biodegradable and thematic. It was part of the 'Enchanted Garden' vision. Which, might I add, got three whole nods of approval from the committee.”

I folded my arms. “So did your suggestion to install a floating lantern pond. That doesn’t mean it’s realistic.”

“It’s called whimsy,” she said, glaring up at me. “Maybe look it up sometime in your dictionary of doom.”

The wind whipped her curls into her face, and she huffed as she pushed them back. A raindrop splattered between us.

I looked up.

The clouds were no longer threatening—they were moving in with force.

“You should get home,” I said, turning toward the parking lot. “This storm isn’t going to wait for you to finish defending confetti.”

“And you should consider lightening up before your face turns into granite.” She stormed off—pun absolutely intended—toward her ancient little hatchback parked near the edge of the lot.

A flash of lightning lit up the sky behind her, and I paused mid-step.

She wasn’t going to make it far in that car. I knew it. Anyone who drove a vehicle that rattled louder than a shopping cart in gravel wasn’t equipped for a flash flood.

Still, I got into my truck. Slammed the door harder than necessary. The rain started seconds later, coming down fast and unforgiving. I wiped my windshield once, twice, before turning onto the road that led toward the main drag of Cedar Springs.

And that’s when I saw her.

Ruby, sitting behind the wheel of her car, the hood up and a defeated expression on her face. She slapped the steering wheel, said something that looked a lot like a curse, and dropped her forehead against the window with the universal sigh of why me?

I pulled up beside her, lowered the passenger window, and called out over the rain, “Get in.”

She blinked at me, confused.

I gestured. “Now. Before the road floods.”

She stared at me like I’d offered her a kidney and insulted her flower arrangements at the same time.

“Are you serious?” she shouted over the storm.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“Honestly?” she shouted back. “I can’t tell with that face.”

A crack of thunder exploded overhead.

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