Charming Hannah (Big Sky #1)(2)

I nod and pull into the emergency bay behind the ambulance. Hannah jumps out and I see her give a quick report to a doctor that walks up – one she appears to know – and it’s amazing to see her in her own element.

I’ve never been more turned on in my life.

She’s stunning, her blue eyes bright and red hair around her face. She’s a force to be reckoned with.

After all of her reports are given to the doctors on staff, she blows out a breath and returns to me with a shy smile. “Sorry, I just needed to see this through.”

“No need to be sorry.” I can’t keep myself from dragging my finger down her cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Of course.”

“Hannah!”

Both of us turn at the sound of her name. A tall doctor, Drake I believe his name is, rushes to her and cups her face in his hands.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I wasn’t in the accident.”

“Thank God.” He pulls her in for a hug, and it’s clear that they’re close. Intimate.

Together.

So while they’re hugging and she’s telling him all about what happened, I slip out the door to my truck.

The sexy doctor isn’t available.

Fuck.





Chapter One


Hannah

“I’M GOING TO DIE.”

“I’m one hundred percent sure that you’re not going to die today,” my best friend, Drake, says with a smirk.

A freaking smirk.

“How do you know?”

“I’m a doctor,” he says and reaches over to steal a donut hole from my plate. “I went to school for a really long time so I could tell hypochondriacs like you that you aren’t dying.”

I narrow my eyes and watch him, sitting all smug like across from me. We’re at our favorite café in town, Drips & Sips, sitting outside for the first time this summer, now that the weather is finally nice enough to allow it.

It’s a breezy seventy degrees, yet there is still some snow clinging to life at the top of the ski mountain that’s directly in my view.

It doesn’t suck to live here.

“You can’t tell just by looking at me that I’m not dying.”

“Okay,” he says and takes a big bite of his scone. “Why do you think you’re dying?”

“My low back has been killing me,” I reply. “I have twinges in the ovary area. I’m pretty sure I must have ovarian cancer.”

“Or, you have a back ache and you’re ovulating,” he replies, and I want to slap him for being so flippant about it all.

“Drake—”

“Hannah Banana, I love you, more than you’ll ever know. But I’m going to say this to you, again, and it probably won’t be the last time. You’re an amazing doctor, but you never should have gone to medical school. You know too much. A twinge here and there isn’t cancer.”

I try to speak, but he holds a finger up and keeps talking.

“It isn’t. You’re a healthy thirty-five year old woman with a great career, ridiculously attractive friends, and you make enough money to buy yourself a pretty condo pretty much anywhere in the world. Stop buying trouble with the whole dying thing.”

“You’re not that attractive,” I reply and fidget with the silverware on the tabletop, trying not to sulk.

“Yes, I am,” he says and flashes his annoyingly perfect teeth at me.

“I have been on my feet a lot lately,” I concede and pop a donut hole in my mouth. “Lots of babies decided to show up this week.”

“There you go,” he says. “Not cancer.”

I sigh and nod, feeling stupid. “Why do I do this to myself?”

“Because you’ve seen first hand what illness can do. It’s scary.”

“Also, being a doctor means that we’re confronted with our mortality all the time.”

“True.”

“I don’t think this is unusual.”

“It’s not.”

“So I’m not crazy.”

“I didn’t say that,” he replies with a grin, and I finally laugh.

“You’re supposed to be my best friend and make me feel better.” I kick out with my foot, connecting with his shin.

“Ouch.” He laughs and rubs his shin. “You’re a violent woman, Hannah.”

“Yeah, well, you can take it.”

Suddenly Drake’s phone begins to ring.

“It’s the hospital,” he says grimly. “This is Dr. Merritt.”

He listens quietly for a moment, then tosses his napkin on the table and I know our breakfast is over.

“I’ll be there in ten.” He ends the call. “Gotta run. Appendectomy.”

“Good luck.” He reaches for his wallet, but I shake my head. “Go. I’ve got this. You get it next time.”

“Thanks.” He smiles but his head is already in the surgery. He jogs over to his brand new Land Rover and speeds away, leaving me here in downtown Cunningham Falls to enjoy the morning sunshine and to eavesdrop on the couple who just sat down at the table next to ours.

It’s not going well.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this in public,” the brunette woman says with tears in her voice.