The Bride Wore Red Boots Read Free Page B

charming—like a medicine show snake oil salesman—and her sisters, all five of them, now adored him. Her mother considered him her personal guardian angel. However, he’d treated Mia like she’d gotten her degree from a Cracker Jack box, and he continued doing so in all their correspondence—which was frequent considering how he loved ignoring her requests for information.
    Mia was glad that at her planned trip home for Christmas, her mother and sister would be home and Gabriel Harrison, patient advocate, would be long gone from their lives. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t work quite so easily with Fred Wilson. She was stuck more-or-less permanently with him.
    â€œI want Dr. Mia to stay.”
    Rory’s fingers tightened on her hand, and the last vestiges of memories from Wyoming slipped away.
    â€œThat settles it in my opinion,” she said. “At my patient’s request, I’ll stay with him. Darren, would you be willing to accompany Dr. Wilson to the lounge and ask some questions about the food? Arlene, would you please get Mr. Beltane here a glass of juice and maybe some ice?”
    â€œYes,” Darren said. “Sure.”
    â€œOf course,” Arlene replied, with the first smile Mia had seen from her.
    Fred Wilson, on the other hand, looked as if he might need the Heimlich maneuver. “If I might have a word with you outside, Dr. Crockett.”
    She met his gaze coolly. “Rory, I need to help Dr. Wilson with some things, but I’ll be right back. I promise.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI promise, honey.” She smoothed the child’s hair back and he nodded, his eyes shining.
    Dr. Wilson patted Rory on the shoulder a final time. “I’ll see you tomorrow, young man. You may even get to go home. Bet you’d like that.”
    Rory gave an anemic shrug.
    She slipped out of the room with Fred Wilson behind her, took several steps away from the door, and spun to face him.
    â€œWould you care to explain what this is about?” she demanded.
    â€œDr. Crockett, I have heard your reputation as the wonder child of this medical community,” Wilson said. “But in this department you have no seniority, and a fast track to the top is not impressive. No matter how good you are technically, nothing can take the place of years of experience. And just because you wear a stethoscope and have been in this physical location longer than I have, doesn’t mean you possess anywhere near the experience I do. You were insubordinate in front of the patient and my staff. I won’t have that.”
    She didn’t blink or raise her voice. She put her hands in her lab coat pockets to keep from showing her flexing fingers. “In point of fact, Dr. Wilson, you treated me like a first-year intern in there, even though I am the lead medical staff member in this matter. I also have the trust of the patient, and you ignored that along with his wishes. I treated you with the respect you commanded. It’s not my style to kiss up to anyone or brown nose a superior to make my way. Good medicine is all I care about. You or one of your hospital staff docs will handle his care in regard to his recent appendectomy, but at the moment, because he is still in a little bit of shock, that is secondary to aftercare from the anaphylaxis. I didn’t appreciate you not bowing to my expertise or asking me to debrief you—even if I didn’t just come from Johns Hopkins.”
    â€œYou take a pretty surly tone.”
    â€œI apologize.”
    For a long moment he assessed her, and finally he shook his head. “I don’t like your style, Doctor. But the staff thinks highly of your skill. We’ll let this slide because the child did request your presence.”
    â€œI don’t love your style either.” She smiled. “But I’ve heard the staff thinks highly of your bedside manner. I hope we can grow to understand each other better as we are