Page 6 of A Place Like You

The fucking arrogance doesn’t go unnoticed.

My gaze snaps back to Finnegan. “I don’t want some outcast who’s paying you to save his ass tending to my patients.”

“Mommy said ‘ass,’” Milo chimes in, and even Rhea stirs, the commotion bringing her back from the brink of sleep. Drake’s laughter rings out at my son’s bafflement.

“The jelly-bug and I have to head back home. In the meantime. . .” He pauses, sparing Drake a sideways glance. “I’ve done my part. Introduced you. As for the rest . . . well, she might not invite you to play. After all, it is her sandbox.”

With that, he turns on his heel, leaving me with the cocky, wannabe doctor in the doorway.

“Take him with you,” I request as he walks away.

“I think you should reconsider,” Finnegan calls out, the smirk evident in his voice as he glances over his shoulder. “You could use some help at the clinic. But hey, what do I know?”

“I have things to do,” I respond, directing my words at Drake. “Maybe we can discuss this at a later time. Let’s say February thirtieth. Goodbye.”

With that, I firmly shut the door, leaving behind an atmosphere of finality.

Very mature, Wren.

But seriously, what am I supposed to do? Open the doors of my practice to a guy that might be here for a few weeks, and then what? I need stability in my life, including the clinic.

Then again, choosers shouldn’t be . . . how does that phrase go?

It doesn’t matter. If I really need a doctor, I’ll contact a headhunting company, not Finnegan. He has many qualifications, but common sense isn’t one of them. Is it?

Chapter Three

Wren

Every Thursday afternoon, my best friends—Sutton, Regina, and Jez—and I meet at the Mountain Range Bar and Grill. Jezebel—Jez for short—owns the joint, so I’m not sure if it counts as her joining us for lunch when she’s darting between tables, making sure everything is running like a well-oiled engine while we eat.

The four of us have been friends for years. Jezebel’s grandma calls us the modern-day Golden Girls, only younger and less funny. We’re more of a family, bound not by blood but by shared laughter, tears, and history.

Like every week, we’re here at noon. The theme of today is: Last night’s uninvited guest. Sutton hasn’t arrived yet, but that doesn’t stop me from telling them what happened with Drake Kershaw.

“The audacity of Finnegan, to just drop a stranger in my lap and expect me to hire him,” I complain.

Okay, he didn’t tell me to hire him. More like he tried to help the guy but warned him that I might not be persuaded to do such a thing.

Regina, always the practical one, nonchalantly shrugs. “I don’t understand your hesitation. You do need a doctor,” she points out. “If you can’t afford his salary, I can help you with that.”

I shrug off her suggestion. It’s not about the money, but the principle. “Who knows if this guy is even a competent doctor?He comes from a big city, probably an overpriced cardiologist who charges exorbitant fees by spending all of five minutes with his patients declining surgeries and having affairs. He could be a wife beater . . .” My voice trails off, the words heavy with memories I shouldn’t bring back.

“Way to project yourself,” Regina interjects.

I shrug, because maybe that’s my biggest problem with Drake. There’s an inexplicable familiarity about him that fills me with an unsettling unease.

“What did he say during the interview?” Jez interrupts our conversation, placing our drinks on the table.

“Um, there wasn’t an interview—and I won’t be hiring him. As I explained, Finn brought him by last night as if he were some present that’ll bring me joy. He didn’t. Obviously, I dismissed them both.”I reach for my glass and take a sip. The peach iced tea is probably the best around here, not that there are many places that even offer it in this area.

Just then, Sutton slides onto a barstool. “Who are we hiring?” she asks, her grin mischievous. “Did we decide to start a strip club because I’m ready for the interviews—full naked body.”

“No strippers.” Jez rolls her eyes.

“Apparently, a doctor,” Regina replies.

Jez turns to Sutton. “The usual?”

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