Protecting What's Mine(11)

Sunshine, his yellow lab disaster, scrabbled at the glass, frantic with excitement.

“Separation anxiety. Usually she’s with someone, but with the call today, a rookie brought her back. That, by the way, is my girl,” he said as Sunshine’s front paws got tangled up in the heavy curtains. There was a muffled crash as curtains and rod rained down. Undaunted, Sunshine danced to the door and back to the window.

“Huh. Guess I was right when I pictured you with a high-maintenance blonde,” she quipped.

Yeah. He was definitely looking forward to seeing her again. “Wanna come in for a nightcap? Maybe see me with a complicated brunette?”

“It’s a nice offer, Hotshot. But I’m gonna pass.”

“If I wanted to pursue you relentlessly, how would I do that?” he asked, his good hand on the door handle.

“I have a feeling you’ll find a way,” she predicted.

He certainly would. After a long, hot shower and a good night’s sleep.

Linc opened the door with his left hand. “I’ll see you around, doc,” he said.

“I’m sure you will.”

He grabbed his bag from the back and, with a little salute, let himself in where he was promptly mauled with unconditional love.





5





She knew it was still dark without opening her eyes. Her internal clock was a marvel. An annoyingly consistent marvel.

Five-thirty in the morning. She considered pulling the pillow over her head and trying for another half an hour, but it was futile. The day had begun.

She kicked off what covers had survived the night and stepped over the bedspread that had been rejected. A lousy sleeper, Dr. Mackenzie O’Neil had gotten used to getting by on a few hours a night. There was too much adrenaline in her life.

The bedroom was small by most people’s standards. But most people hadn’t spent a good amount of time deployed to field hospitals in foreign lands. The double mattress was comfortable enough for the next six months. And when she had a spare minute, she’d probably finish unpacking her clothes.

This stopover in Benevolence, Maryland, was like another deployment. A temporary placement. A short-term job to do. Today, she’d find out exactly what she’d gotten herself into.

The floorboards creaked under her bare feet as she headed into the bathroom. It was tiny—like the rest of the house—but the landlord had managed to squeeze in enough storage in the vanity, open shelves, and sliver of a linen closet to make it usable.

Mack wrapped an elastic band around her hair, securing it in a stubby tail, and splashed cold water on her face until she felt the burn of blood flow.

Ten minutes later, she was out the door, running shoes on and muscles warm.

Late August in Maryland, she was learning, meant the fingers of summer humidity clung tight, even in the early morning hours. Turning left, she headed down the block, deciding to zig-zag through a new-to-her part of town before hitting the trail by the lake.

As her feet beat out a steady rhythm on the sidewalk beneath her, her brain organized her day. Shower. Breakfast. Tea. Then her first day on the job shadowing Dr. Dunnigan in the woman’s family medical practice where she would be spending four days a week until March.

Nerves danced up her spine, and she laughed out loud in the residential quiet. Mack O’Neil, afraid of a challenge? She was more afraid it wouldn’t be enough of a challenge. Worried the quiet, small-town life would end up being worse for her health than her previous high-stress career.

Adrenal fatigue. Impending burnout. Looming exhaustion.

As a medical professional, she knew the dangers of pushing the body too hard for too long. Yet she hadn’t just stepped a toe or two over that line. No. She’d run a good hundred yards in the wrong direction.

She’d always been able to temper the hard work with hard play. And when necessary, well-earned island vacations with nothing to worry about but umbrellas in drinks and sunscreen applications. But lately, she hadn’t been able to play hard enough. Hadn’t been able to level out.

And she was smart enough to tackle the problem now before it cost her too much.

She had the next six months to get herself together. Six months of fish oil and vegetables, meditation and sleep.

God, she hoped it wouldn’t take that long.

She’d been pushing hard since forever. And now it was time to stop pushing and start…whatever the opposite of pushing was.

Glancing down at her watch, she slowed her pace to stay in the appropriate heart rate zone. Enough for a workout but not a flat-out sprint.

“Just breathe,” Mack reminded herself. That’s all she had to do. Breathe and rest. And hope the boredom wouldn’t kill her.

She sucked in a long, slow breath. Then blew it out. The concrete under her feet changed to dirt and pine needles, and she let her thoughts shake free as the trees of the woods closed around her.

Four miles, and she was back at the front door of her rental. The flowerbeds—hell, she had flowerbeds now—needed a good weeding. The lawn was a little tall, and she remembered there was a push mower in the garage that was too small to house her SUV.

She’d squeeze in some yard work later today.

She jogged up the tidy brick steps and let herself inside. The house, a cottage really, felt like something out of a storybook with its rounded front door painted cerulean to accent the daffodil yellow siding. The door opened into the living room that took up the entire front half of the house. Yellow pine floors, cute built-ins, even a tidy brick fireplace that—were she the type—would be nice to curl up in front of with a good book on a snowy night.