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Kristin hesitated, knowing she should refuse. But she’d had an exhausting day, and the pleasant burn of alcohol sliding down her throat would do wonders to calm her frayed nerves.
“You’re aware that liquor is illegal now, aren’t you?” She stirred the soup, which was barely lukewarm.
“Yes, I know. That makes it taste even better.” He laughed as he opened a cabinet and took out a half-empty bottle and two glasses.
“Just a taste,” she said. “I can’t climb the stairs with a bowl of soup if I’m tipsy.”
He poured her more than she’d asked for, handed her the glass, then poured some for himself. Standing by the stove, she sipped slowly, keeping an eye on the pan of soup.
“I know you’re here for a worrisome reason,” he said. “But I’m grateful for the chance to get to know you. Blue Moon hasn’t had its own doctor since Simon Bardolph passed away in that awful accident years ago. You’ll be a great asset to the community—and I hope I can count on your help here at the ranch from time to time.”
“Of course you can. It’s my job.”
“And I’m aware that you don’t work for nothing. I plan to pay you a generous fee for saving my cousin and staying to take care of him.”
Kristin raised an eyebrow. “Even though I was practically shanghaied into coming here?”
“You’ll get extra for that.” Webb chuckled. He had an infectious laugh, she thought. And he was a handsome man, wealthy as Midas and charming, when he chose to be. It was a wonder some woman hadn’t snatched him up after his wife passed away.
She could smell the soup getting warm. She slid the pan off the fire to let it simmer while she finished her drink. Pride tempted her to refuse payment for her services. But that would be foolish. She wasn’t working on salary for the U.S. Government anymore, and setting up her practice wasn’t going to be cheap. Besides, it wasn’t as if he and Logan were poor men.
“You’re a lovely woman, Kristin.” He studied her in the stark light of the electric fixture that hung from the ceiling. “I can imagine you in a beautiful scarlet ball gown with your hair pinned up and rubies dangling from your ears. You’d be stunning.”
Kristin managed an awkward laugh. “All I can say is, you’ve got a vivid imagination, Mr. Calder. Or maybe it’s just the whiskey talking.”
“Please, call me Webb, and I can assure you I’m not drunk. Why is it you haven’t married? Surely you’ve been courted.”
“Courtship takes time. And I’ve never had much of that to spare—or found a man worth my trouble. You might say I’m married to my career.” Unsettled by his flattery, Kristin put down her empty glass, ladled some warm soup into the bowl, and added the spoon. “I need to get back upstairs,” she said. “Oh—a napkin would be helpful.”
“Here you are.” He took a folded cloth out of a basket on the counter. “Since the stove’s still hot, do you think our patient would like some coffee? I could brew some and bring it up to the room.”
“That sounds fine. It should make him more alert and help get more fluids in him. But take your time. I want him to have the soup first.” She gave him a tired smile. “As long as you’re making coffee, I could use a cup myself.”
“No trouble. I’ll make an extra.”
Kristin placed the bowl, spoon, and napkin on a tray and turned to leave the kitchen. He stepped into her path, his gaze holding her a reluctant captive.
“Kristin, you’re exhausted. You need to get some rest. The room next door has a bed you could use. I’d be willing to give Logan the soup and sit with him for an hour or two.”
She shook her head and stepped back. “Thank you for the kind offer, Webb, but Logan isn’t out of danger. As his doctor, I need to stay and check his vitals in case he shows any signs of getting worse. I’ll be fine. I’ve been in a war, remember? I’m accustomed to long nights.”
“I understand.” He nodded. “Sometime, when you’ve got time to talk, I’d like to hear the stories of your war experiences.”
“You wouldn’t want to hear my stories, Webb. And I wouldn’t enjoy telling them. Some memories should be buried and forgotten. That’s what I’m trying to do.”
Turning away before he could keep her longer, she hurried back to the stairs. With light filtering down from the hallway above, it was easy enough to see her way without stumbling.
Had Webb been flirting with her? If so, it was the last thing she’d expected. She was a member of the family he hated. And after her harrowing day, she looked like a red-eyed, frowzy, bloodstained walking nightmare.
Experience had taught her that a man didn’t say the kind of things she’d heard without some purpose in mind. But Webb Calder? That didn’t make sense. Maybe her exhausted mind had read too much into their conversation.
She found Logan sitting up in bed against her orders to lie still. She was tempted to scold him, but his color looked all right, and the dressing on the wound appeared to have stayed in place.
“I hope you’re hungry,” she said.
He cast her a defiant look. “I could be—as long as you don’t plan on spoon-feeding me. I’m not as helpless as you seem to think I am.”
“Be my guest.” She laid the tray across his lap. He took the spoon with an unsteady hand, dipped it in the soup, and managed to get it to his mouth. “How does it taste?” she asked.
