Page 21 of Rescuing Dr. Marian
“It’s okay, girl,” I said, crossing the room to kneel beside her. She licked my face, her warm weight against me comforting. “We’re going on an adventure soon. Just you and me.”
Friday morning came with clear skies and a forecast of another scorching day. I loaded my gear and Chick into my truck and pointed us north toward Montana, windows down to catch whatever breeze we could find.
The drive gave me too much time to think. About my mom’s worried face when I’d told her I was leaving for the summer.About Way’s not-so-subtle suggestion that this trip might “clear my head.” About the way I’d been holding everyone at arm’s length since Hawaii.
Maybe they were right. Maybe a summer in Legacy was exactly what I needed. Maybe there’d be hot firefighters and pilots at SERA who could help me forget about the last man I’d kissed.
“What do you think, Chick?” I glanced over at my co-pilot, who had her head out the window, ears flapping in the wind. “Ready for an adventure?”
She barked enthusiastically as I reached for the knob on the radio and turned up the music.
The landscape changed gradually as we crossed into Montana—the land a little wilder, the forests denser. The temperature dropped as we gained a little elevation, a welcome relief from the heat wave we’d been experiencing in Majestic.
Legacy itself was a charming town with rustic character, nestled at the bottom of Slingshot Mountain with a river running through its center. Local legend said it was named by a gold miner who’d struck it rich and declared the town would be his legacy to his children. The gold had run out eventually, but the town had persisted, reinventing itself as a quirky little place with similar but less robust outdoor tourism than Majestic and a burgeoning art and eatery scene. With only two slopes, it would never compete with the ski traffic at Vail or Jackson, but it had enough visitors in summer to justify an eclectic collection of shops and restaurants that had, themselves, become a draw for tourists year-round.
Now, in peak summer, the main street was bustling withsporty tourists in hiking boots and artsy types in flowy hemp pants and cropped tank tops. Outdoor gear shops and artisan cafés lined the road, along with a few bars that looked like they’d been there since the mining days.
After driving through and then out of the town center for several more miles, I pulled up to SERA headquarters—a sprawling lodge with several outbuildings and small cabins, nestled against the base of the mountain. The parking lot was packed with vehicles sporting license plates from half a dozen states.
Chick and I were late. I’d stopped to help a family change a flat on the side of the road, and by the time we made it into the main building, instructor orientation was already underway. I slipped into the back of the room, Chickie at my heels, and scanned the setup, which included about a dozen people, equipment displays along the walls, and detailed maps of the surrounding wilderness.
My attention shifted to the front of the room, where a man with an award-winning ass was speaking, his back to me as he pointed at a topographical map.
“—conditions are particularly challenging this season. Which is a good opportunity for us to teach the importance of improvisation in wilderness emergency response.”
His voice hit me like a physical blow, and I froze.
Tommy?
It couldn’t be.
He turned then, and our eyes locked across the crowded room. I blinked in shock.
Tommy fucking Marian was standing at the front of theroom, looking just as stunned as I felt. For a moment, he faltered, the words dying on his lips as he stared at me.
My heart hammered against my ribs. Six months. Six months of trying to forget, and now this. The one man I never thought I’d see again. Didn’twantto see again.
Asshole.
Tommy recovered first, breaking eye contact to address the other people in the room again with a small clearing of his throat. “But it also means we need to be ready for the unexpected, which I’m sure you already know.”
The rest of his words faded to background noise as I tried to process what was happening. What were the odds? What was he even doing here? He was supposed to be a hotshot ER doctor on the verge of selling out to anesthesia. He was supposed to be inNew York, playing happy family with his poor, unsuspecting bride.
I felt a tug on the leash and looked down to see Chick sitting alertly, head tilted as she studied Tommy with great interest.
Great. Even my dog was captivated by him. The traitor.
When orientation ended, people began milling about, talking in groups, and I turned to go. Maybe I could use Chick as an excuse to get some fresh air.
A friendly woman with a clipboard and a name badge that saidRobynstopped me and introduced herself as one of the program coordinators.
“Sheriff, welcome to SERA. Trace will come find you as soon as he has a free minute. In the meantime, here’s your room information and key, as well as a property map. Don’thesitate to let me know if you have any questions. We’re so happy you could join us!”
“Thanks, sorry I was late. But, uh… can you tell me what Tommy Marian is doing here?”
Her face lit up. “Oh! He’s the temporary medical director. His family helped Trace start SERA. In fact, the land we’re on was originally part of the Marians’ property. They donated it to the program. You’ll love Dr. Marian. He’s amazing.”
I could tell she was the victim of a little hero worship, and part of me wanted to ruin her pretty image of the man by explaining he wasn’t quite as amazing as she thought. Instead, I nodded and murmured my thanks.
