The Sheriff Of Wickham Falls. Rochelle AlersЧитать онлайн книгу.
Epilogue
Tap! Tap! Tap!
Natalia Hawkins opened one eye and then the other, and stared up at the ceiling in her bedroom; staccato tapping had jolted her out of her much-needed sleep, and she wasn’t ready to accept that she’d moved into a house with a woodpecker living in a tree on the property.
Tap! Tap! Tap! Tap!
There it was again. After sitting up and sweeping off the sheet and lightweight blanket, Natalia swung her legs over the side of the bed. As soon as her bare feet touched the floor, she knew she would be up for the day. As a former ER doctor working in an overcrowded, understaffed Philadelphia municipal hospital, she was used to performing her duties on limited amounts of sleep.
She had believed Wickham Falls, a remote town in the Appalachian Mountains boasting a population of less than five thousand residents, was a place where she would no longer be jolted awake by honking horns from bumper-to-bumper rush hour traffic, the wailing of emergency vehicles’ sirens or her name coming through the hospital’s loudspeakers. She had left the noise of a large metropolitan city behind to get a peaceful night’s sleep, only to be awakened by an annoying bird.
Natalia opened the blinds and bright early morning sunlight flooded the space. Her gaze lingered on boxes lined up against a wall that were filled with linens, blankets, clothes and shoes. There also were boxes in the smaller bedroom, the kitchen, bathroom, and living and dining rooms. It had taken less than six weeks for her to box up her life to leave behind all that was familiar to move and become a small-town family doctor—something she had always wanted, even before graduating medical school.
Slipping her feet into a pair of fluffy yellow SpongeBob slippers that were a Christmas gift from her eight-year-old niece, she walked out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. Although the compact one-story house was larger than her condo in the luxurious high-rise building in Philadelphia, it did not have the open floor plan or panoramic views to which Natalia had become accustomed. That no longer mattered because as soon as she opened the door to walk into the house, it became her sanctuary. She did not have to gird herself for a confrontation with her fiancé who had managed to find fault in everything. After a while, Natalia preferred sleeping at the hospital rather than come home to a hostile environment that had become even worse instead of getting better. And thanks to his duplicity, Daryl made it very easy for Natalia to make a clean break with her place of birth to follow and fulfill her dream to live and work in a small town.
She brushed her teeth and then washed her face as she stared at her reflection in the oval mirror over the pedestal sink. Even though she didn’t look any different than she had in years, Natalia knew she wasn’t the same woman who’d gotten her wish to become a doctor, and fall in love with a man she had thought of as perfect. She was still dedicated to her profession; however, her personal life had been filled with angst and turmoil. Her fiancé abruptly moved out of the condo four months ago, taking her engagement ring and the dog he’d given her as a gift for her birthday.
Natalia wasn’t as upset about losing her ring as she had been about Daryl Owens taking Oreo, the dark-brown-and-white toy poodle that had been her constant companion. She’d promptly contacted the building’s management to change the locks on the unit because she didn’t want Daryl to return and renew what had become a toxic relationship where despite living under the same roof, they argued constantly and hadn’t made love in months. The first night Natalia went to bed and woke up alone signaled a new beginning for her. And it took only a few days to realize she had been reborn and she didn’t have to monitor every word or action because Daryl would invariably challenge and ridicule her.
Walking out of the bathroom, Natalia returned to the bedroom to make the bed. Normally she would head for the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee but that would have to be put off until she unpacked the coffee maker. She’d carefully planned her day to go into town for breakfast, and then stop at the hardware store to pick up paint, brushes and rollers to paint the kitchen. Shopping for groceries to stock the refrigerator and pantry was next on her to-do list, followed by unpacking as many boxes as she could to make her new home appear lived-in.
She fluffed up her pillows and positioned them against the wrought iron headboard, and had just opened the windows to let in fresh air when she heard a string of explosive expletives. Peering out the window, she saw a man holding his hand as he continued to spew curses, this time under his breath.
Instinct galvanized her into action as Natalia raced to the front door to see if the man had been seriously injured. She met a pair of light brown eyes in a face the color of golden-brown autumn leaves. He was tall, at least six inches above her five-five height, and powerfully built as evidenced by the white T-shirt stretched over a muscled chest and broad shoulders.
“Please, let me see your hand.”
* * *
Seth Collier stared at the woman who seemingly had appeared out of nowhere. The pain in his left thumb intensified, throbbing as if it had its own heartbeat. “Who are you?” he asked her.
“I’m a doctor, and it appears as if you’ve injured your hand.”
“You don’t say,” Seth drawled sarcastically. He’d accidently hit his thumb with the hammer when attempting to drive the last nail into the post for the birdhouse, fearing he had broken it. His gaze went from the face of the slightly built woman with a short natural hairstyle and a flawless complexion that looked like chocolate mousse to her chest. He had an unobstructed view of firm breasts in a floral tank top she had paired with red cotton lounging pajama pants. He averted his eyes before she caught him ogling her like a voyeur.
“Do you want me to look at your hand? There is a possibility that you have broken a bone.”
Seth extended his hand at the same time he bit down on his lower lip; the pain had intensified. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d injured himself while wielding a hammer. His general contractor father had taught him everything he needed to know about handling tools, but it was apparent he had temporarily forgotten the very important safety precautions. Seth blamed the accident on inattentiveness rather than fatigue. He’d left Savannah, Georgia, before midnight after spending a week with his mother and sisters, to drive back to Wickham Falls to arrive home at dawn. As soon as he pulled into his driveway, he saw the white BMW SUV parked next to the house that had been vacant for a year. His neighbor, who had planned to rent his house because he was out of the country, had asked him to watch his property. Not only was Seth surprised that someone had moved in, but as one of Wickham Falls’ deputy sheriffs, there was very little that went on in the town that he wasn’t aware of.
The second thing he noticed was the birdhouse he had put up once he’d moved back to The Falls was down again. Seth knew the boys who lived in the house on the street behind his tended to jump the fence rather than walk around the block, and in doing so knocked over the birdhouse. He had held off talking to their grandparents, who had taken in the boys while their parents were going through a contentious divorce, but now he knew he had to warn them about trespassing and vandalizing his property.
“Does that hurt?”
“No,” he said, as the doctor massaged his fingers. It wasn’t his hand but his thumb he’d injured, and thankfully he was right-handed or he wouldn’t be able to perform his duties. Seth had another two days before he was scheduled to return to work.
“Try opening and closing your hand,” she said in a quiet voice. Seth complied. “Lucky for you, you haven’t broken any bones. I’m going to spray your thumb with a solution that will temporarily numb the pain. You hit your thumb rather hard, so you’re going