The Surgeon's Christmas Wish. Annie O'NeilЧитать онлайн книгу.
was thirty-four years old, but it was all she could do not to tip back her head and scream, Yippppeeeee!
A year in Deer Creek had done wonders for her psyche, not to mention her emergency medical skills. She now ran her own ski injury clinic. Well, almost her own. Just a bit more scrimping and a few more paychecks to go … More importantly, she ran her own life. It was about time.
Tara felt a smile forming on her lips as she scanned the mountainside. Only the hardcore skiers were out this early. Early enough to see dawn’s blush spill over the Rockies. And with just enough time to get to Marian’s bakery before all of the specials were scooped up by seasonal visitors.
Hearing a couple of exhilarated whoops behind her, Tara pulled over to a small knoll on the edge of the slope. A pair of freewheeling snowboarders wearing Santa hats hurtled past, throwing a “Thanks for moving” in their wake. As they flashed down the steep terrain, she let the silent beauty of the mountain settle around her. Who needed a Christmas tree in their living room when there was an entire mountainside riddled with evergreens?
Me. That’s who. She smiled, knowing full well she was as much of a sucker for the traditional trappings of the upcoming holiday as anyone. Only five more weeks!
Even so, spending it on your own was—
Stop it, she silently cautioned herself. Spending Christmas on her own in Deer Creek was exactly what she wanted. She had everything she needed in the small mountain village. A good job, a local shop with everything from pretzels to antifreeze, a Wi-Fi connection to die for and a bakery that specialized in threatening to expand her waistline.
Besides, how many doctors saw a variation of the North Pole from their office every morning? The view from up here was insane. There was nothing claustrophobic about Deer Creek. No one stealing your research or trying to shoehorn you into a career path you never wanted. Just an honest, simple life. A life absolutely, perfectly on her own.
Tara scrutinized the scarcely populated slopes. Fingers crossed, there wouldn’t be too many injuries arriving at the clinic today. Not that she minded the work. Medicine was definitely her calling. It was just that every time the doors to the clinic opened, or her radio crackled to life, it meant someone else was having a very bad day.
She knelt to readjust the clips on her boots. Another five minutes or so to the clinic and—
“Heads!”
Tara flattened herself to the small knoll as a snowboarder whistled overhead. She felt her mouth go dry and her heart rate soar. Shivers shot across her shoulders and her scalp tingled in a combination of fear and adrenaline.
What a first-class idiot!
Just a few inches in the wrong direction and she would’ve been the one entering the clinic. Not only was the snowboarder thoughtless—he was plain dangerous.
Heart pounding, Tara bolted upright and sped after the tall figure in racing blue as he shot down the slope at lightning speed. The broad reach of his shoulders indicated he was definitely a grown man. A very athletic man from the looks of things. Long legs, trim hips, an assured strength behind his movements. There was no doubt he knew how to command the slope.
Her brow crinkled. This was hardly the time to be admiring someone’s build and athletic panache.
“Stop!” Tara knew her voice didn’t carry far on the slopes—but she didn’t care. Good looking or not, the snowboarder could have killed her. “Stop, you—you mountainside menace!”
Tara felt heat roil in her belly. How dare he endanger someone’s life?
The man seemed blissfully unaware of Tara’s increasingly irate attempts to get his attention. As she watched him disappear around the next bend, she felt her fury double. His type was exactly the reason Deer Creek needed doctors on constant duty.
It was just the sort of thoughtless behavior her ex would’ve—
Stop. Stop. Not going to go there. I am not going to go there. Something positive. Just think of something positive.
The new surgeon.
Thank goodness he was starting in a few days. Tara had been running the clinic on her own throughout the summer with the ad hoc help of the local search and rescue crew. Summer saw a steady trickle of hikers, river rafters and the occasional rock climber, but it was not as busy as the ski season. Not by a long shot.
Over the summer and fall, the relative solitude of the mountain retreat suited her. Neither did she mind the twenty-four-seven nature of the job, but having another colleague to throw ideas at was always useful when it came to sports-related injuries. Plus, with freshly opened slopes and the start of the Thanksgiving vacation, five patients a day had the potential to become twenty.
Dr. Fraser MacKenzie’s résumé had genuinely impressed her. He had done ski seasons all over the world, following a five-year stint as a British military surgeon in the Royal Marines. She wasn’t surprised to see that after seasons in France, Italy and New Zealand he’d wanted to add the American Rockies to his list.
Tara normally didn’t hire unknown seasonal staff, but the colleague she had been relying on from last year had called just two weeks earlier to say he was very sorry but he’d just accepted a tenured position at a hospital in Banff. She could hardly begrudge him such an enviable post. The chief of sports medicine in a prime resort hospital? He would’ve been a fool to turn it down.
Can I trust this one to last the whole season?
She’d seen other resort clinics suffer from multiple cases of doctors jumping ship early. The call of higher mountains, steeper slopes, a fresh start in a new hemisphere.
Tara frowned discerningly as she took in the majesty of the mountains around her. The Rockies were enough for her. Heck, Deer Creek was enough for her. She shook her head, knowing full well she was hardly one to cast aspersions. Just as the season-hoppers might be fleeing their pasts, she too was in her own form of escape. Deer Creek was where she had been hiding for well over a year. And being a lone wolf suited her down to a T.
Fraser pulled up to the clinic with a professional swish. He’d done higher-level Alpine training in the military, but skiing had always been something he’d enjoyed for pleasure as well. Snowboarding was a welcome adrenaline rush to add to his repertoire.
Slipping off his boots, Fraser popped his snowboard onto the clinic’s purpose-built stand and jogged, sockfooted, into the wood-shingled building. He couldn’t stop a smile from slipping onto his full lips. Mountainside menace. That was a good one.
He felt a quick stab of guilt about his near collision on the piste with the black-haired beauty—but it was his first day of work and an emergency was an emergency. Besides, wearing a white ski suit was hardly an advertisement to your presence on the slopes. Even if it looked as though someone had poured Giselle Bundschen’s body into the woman’s form-fitting all-in-one. He’d been lucky he’d seen the red bobble on her hat.
Fraser was relieved to note that the building’s old-fashioned exterior hid an incredibly modern clinic. The Deer Creek website had shown photos of first-aid and examination rooms kitted out with everything a doctor needed up here. Well, everything but a full operating theatre and accompanying staff. Mind you, those were close enough, down at the Valley Hospital. Just a scenic trip down to the proper town on the gondola, or in an ambulance if the weather suited, and, voilà—everything a surgeon could dream of.
A petite redhead with a pixie cut leaned through a pair of swinging double doors, “Dr. MacKenzie? That was fast.”
What was the nurse’s name again? They’d only had a quick phone conversation and he’d been paying more attention to the details of the patient. Lisa? Lise? Liesel! Liesel the nurse and Tara the doctor. He’d better get those right.
Liesel’s voice sounded definitively Antipodean, despite her Germanic name. Australian, he would’ve guessed. If looks were anything to go by, she seemed a cheery sort. They’d