“And you like it?”

“I love it. I love Dr. Grant.”

Peyton raised a brow and smiled. “Does the athletic director mind that you love your boss?”

Devon laughed. “Spencer loves Dr. Grant, too! This town and my job—it’s perfect for us. Spencer has an eleven-year-old son, Austin. And I have a four-year-old daughter, Mercy.”

“Do you like your soon-to-be stepson?” Peyton asked.

“He’s a dream come true,” Devon said. “Mercy worships him, and he’s very good to her.”

“Very lucky for you,” Peyton said. “Those things can be dicey—blending families like that.”

“We’re very lucky, that’s true.”

“What if you don’t find an associate?” Peyton asked.

“We’ll manage,” Devon said. “We make it work somehow. It’s just that...well, Dr. Grant spends a lot of time helping out at other hospitals, sitting on call almost every weekend, and that’s inconvenient for him. He’s a very devoted family man and needs more time with his family.”

“Devoted family man?” Peyton asked.

“Absolutely. Plus he volunteers with Spencer as the game doctor for the football team. This town doesn’t have a lot of money, and football is very important to Thunder Point. School programs and sports are the main entertainment here, and most of the student athletes are working hard for scholarships. Spencer’s last school—a big, rich Texas high school—had a certified trainer and sports medicine physical therapist. We don’t have resources like that here in this little town, so it’s important to recruit volunteers like Dr. Grant. I wish you could meet him.”

“Devon, would you excuse me for a second? I just have to get something....”

“Sure,” Devon said. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“No, thanks,” she said, smiling over her shoulder as she walked out to her car. She came back in with a cloth briefcase. She opened it on the counter in front of Devon and pulled out a thin newspaper. “I was renting a cottage in Coos Bay for a short vacation. I happened to see this ad but didn’t know anything about the town. So, I thought I’d check it out and maybe drop off a résumé.”

Devon glanced at the résumé, and her mouth fell open just as her eyes became very round with surprise. “Physician’s assistant? From Portland?”

“I worked for a cardiologist. I was there for three years. Very busy practice. I was hoping for something a little quieter for a while.”

Devon didn’t speak right away. Then she said, “So, you’re not just passing through.”

“Well, I could have been. I haven’t officially started looking for my next job yet. I haven’t sent out any résumés yet.”

“Why did you leave your former practice?”

“I was replaced, but I promise you my recommendation will be excellent,” she said. “Maybe you could give my résumé to Dr. Grant, and if he’s interested, my cell phone number and email address are right there,” she said, pointing.

“I’ll do just that,” Devon said. “Miss Sneaky Britches.”

Peyton laughed. “Please don’t be offended, Devon. I wasn’t going to leave a résumé if something about the town or the clinic or the doctor didn’t feel right.”

“You haven’t met the doctor.”

“But you love him,” Peyton said. “Even your fiancé loves him.”

“Who loves me?” a man asked.

Peyton looked up, and there, standing in the space that led into the back of the clinic, was a very attractive man in his late thirties. He was dressed in faded jeans and a yellow dress shirt, open at the collar, sleeves rolled up. Although he was clearly over thirty-five, he had a boyish quality to his good looks. But not to his physique—he was broad shouldered and had muscular arms and big hands. Even from where she stood, she could see a depth to his blue eyes.

Devon looked over her shoulder. “Meet Dr. Scott Grant, who obviously just snuck in the back door.”

He stepped forward. “Pleasure,” he said. “Miss Sneaky Britches, was it?”

“Peyton Lacoumette,” she said, taking his hand. “I saw your ad. After getting to know Devon a little bit, I decided to drop off a résumé. I’m a physician’s assistant.”

“Is that so?” he said, taking the page, glancing at it. “I’ve been interviewing.”

“Well, give me a call if you think I suit,” she said. “I’m staying in Coos Bay for a little while—just taking a breather before summer is over.”

Without looking up from her résumé, he asked, “Do you have time for a conversation now?”

“I—I guess so,” she said. Then she laughed a little uncomfortably. “I didn’t expect... I didn’t dress for... Sure, I have time.”

“Good,” he said. “Come on back.” And he turned that she might follow him.

* * *

Scott found himself staring down at the résumé for a long time, looking for flaws. He knew if he looked across the desk he’d see only perfection, and it unsettled him. She was only a job applicant, after all. She was very pretty, yes, but not the type he usually found himself giving a second look. His eyes were usually drawn to blondes, like his late wife. This woman had dark hair, dark eyes and a slightly olive complexion. Her hair was long and straight and looked like a sheet of silk. Italian? Mexican? Sicilian? Her eyes were large and her eyebrows curved in a perfect arch. She was trim—she obviously took care of herself. He noted her very nice collarbones. He almost laughed aloud. Collarbones, Scott? Really? He was afraid to look up. He might lean over the desk to look at her feet and ankles, not that he gave a shit about ankles. He hoped they were at least thick and weird-looking. But he knew they would not be.

“Lacoumette,” he said. “Interesting name....”

“It’s Basque. Originally from the south of France. Most of the Basque blood in my family is Spanish, but the name originated in the northern Basque country and has survived for generations. My parents are second-generation Americans. They have a farm near Portland.” She was quiet for a moment, then cleared her throat. “Do you have any questions about my résumé, Dr. Grant?” she asked.