The Doctor's Date E-Book

Heidi Cullinan

• Herausgeber: Dreamspinner Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 508

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

Sequel to The Doctor's Secret Copper Point Medical: Book Two The hospital's least eligible bachelor and its aloof administrator hate each other… so why are they pretending to date? Dr. Owen Gagnon and HR director Erin Andreas are infamous for their hospital hallway shouting matches. So imagine the town's surprise when Erin bids an obscene amount of money to win Owen in the hospital bachelor auction—and Owen ups the ante by insisting Erin move in with him.  Copper Point may not know what's going on, but neither do Erin and Owen. Erin intends his gesture to let Owen know he's interested. Owen, on the other hand, suspects ulterior motives—that Erin wants a fake relationship as a refuge from his overbearing father. With Erin suddenly heading a messy internal investigation, Owen wants to step up and be the hero Erin's never had. Too bad Erin would rather spend his energy trying to rescue Owen from the shadows of a past he doesn't talk about. This relationship may be fake, but the feelings aren't. Still, what Erin and Owen have won't last unless they put their respective demons to rest. To do that, they'll have to do more than work together—they'll have to trust they can heal each other's hearts.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Blurb

Dedication

Thanks to

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

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Copyright

The Doctor’s Date

By Heidi Cullinan

Sequel to The Doctor’s Secret

Copper Point Medical: Book Two

The hospital’s least eligible bachelor and its aloof administrator hate each other… so why are they pretending to date?

Dr. Owen Gagnon and HR director Erin Andreas are infamous for their hospital hallway shouting matches. So imagine the town’s surprise when Erin bids an obscene amount of money to win Owen in the hospital bachelor auction—and Owen ups the ante by insisting Erin move in with him.

Copper Point may not know what’s going on, but neither do Erin and Owen. Erin intends his gesture to let Owen know he’s interested. Owen, on the other hand, suspects ulterior motives—that Erin wants a fake relationship as a refuge from his overbearing father.

With Erin suddenly heading a messy internal investigation, Owen wants to step up and be the hero Erin’s never had. Too bad Erin would rather spend his energy trying to rescue Owen from the shadows of a past he doesn’t talk about.

This relationship may be fake, but the feelings aren’t. Still, what Erin and Owen have won’t last unless they put their respective demons to rest. To do that, they’ll have to do more than work together—they’ll have to trust they can heal each other’s hearts.

For Amy

because you also deserve all the happiness

Thanks to

DAN AND Anna Cullinan for putting up with the year from hell, my patrons for putting up with me whining about the year from hell and for supporting me, particularly Marie and Rosie, and above all, thanks to Tom and Nina Cullinan for being so understanding about me writing the last few scenes at their fiftieth anniversary party. I’m sure that was part of the magic.

Prologue

ERIN ANDREAS was thirteen when he fell in love.

One of his mother’s interns dropped Erin off at the Mayo Clinic, leaving him at the curb in front of huge glass doors with no further instructions on how to reach his father. Erin asked for John Jean Andreas at the main desk, but his father wasn’t a patient, and no one had time for the shy teenager who didn’t know where he was supposed to go.

If he’s expecting you, you’d better find him. If you don’t show up, he’ll get angry.

The thought of his father’s anger was far more terrifying than being lost, so Erin wandered, hoping somehow he would end up in the right place. All the while, he racked his mind for a clue. He was pretty sure his father’s friend was here for surgery. Some kind of cancer. He glanced around, hoping for a map, but he didn’t see one. Could he ask which building handled cancer surgery at an information desk?

Maybe he should go back to where he’d been dropped off. Except he wasn’t sure how to get there.

Erin crouched beside a pillar, breath coming too fast, the tightness spreading through his body. His father would be so angry….

“Are you all right?”

As Erin blinked the world into focus, a boy his age appeared before him. Taller than he was by a few inches, and broader, though it didn’t take much, as broom handles were thick next to Erin. Dark, tousled hair, in contrast to fair, lightly freckled skin, and brown eyes that bored into Erin, seeing everything. Erin’s hair was wild too, but in a messy, embarrassing way. This boy’s hair was… dangerous.

“Are you all right?” the boy asked again.

Nodding, Erin pressed his hands against his clothes. “I—I’m lost. I’m trying to find my father. We’re visiting someone.”

The boy scratched his chin. For some reason this drew Erin’s attention to his mouth. The boy had thick, pretty lips. “Do you know what department the person you’re visiting is in?”

Lips. They looked soft, like little pillows. Belatedly Erin realized the boy was waiting for an answer, and he blushed. “I—I… cancer, I think.”

“Oh, I can take you—” His gaze shifted to something behind Erin, and his entire demeanor changed, his face going pale, his expression stony. “Sorry, I have to go. You want the third floor.”

As quickly as he’d come, the boy was gone. Erin didn’t even know his name.

He went to the third floor as the boy suggested, but there wasn’t exactly a sign saying, “Cancer is here,” though there should have been. Wasn’t there a different name for it? He couldn’t remember it. It started with an o, maybe. Erin thought he would ask at one of the desks, but they all had lines of patients at them, so he sat in one of the waiting areas and drew his knees toward his chest.

He was quite late now. His father was going to be so furious.

“What are you doing?”

Glancing up, Erin saw a young girl blinking at him. She wore a yellow sundress and had her natty hair in pigtails sticking out like cotton tufts on either side of her head, and she held a large picture book. She didn’t give him much time to answer before she continued speaking.

“I’m waiting with my mom and my grandma and my brother. My dad is coming up later after work and bringing my aunt. My uncle is having brain surgery. I brought a book. Why are you here?”

Erin lowered his legs to the floor. “My father’s friend is having surgery, but I can’t find my dad.”

The girl hugged the book and shifted her hips so her skirt twirled from side to side. “You should sit here with me while you wait for him. You can read to me.”

The information desks were still full of lines. “I’m not sure where I’m supposed to wait, though.”

“Come on already.”

He was going to argue more, but she pulled him from the bench, leading him to a different section of the waiting area, where a tall woman and an older woman approached them, looking stern.

“Emmanuella Grace, where have you been?”

The girl smoothed a hand over her pigtails. “Mom, this boy is lost.”

Emmanuella’s mother appeared to be highly suspicious of this story. The grandmother came forward on a cane and scrutinized him over the top of her glasses, which had a glittering gold chain dangling from each end of the frame. “Land sakes, child, you don’t look like anyone’s fed you in weeks. And what is going on with your hair?”

Reflexively, Erin touched his unruly, kinky, sandy curls that did nothing but frizz.

Emmanuella’s mother folded her arms over her chest. “Where’re you supposed to be?”

Erin tried not to let his panic show. “My father is here, but I don’t know where. They didn’t tell me how to find him when they dropped me off. I thought maybe he would be waiting for me, but he wasn’t, and I can’t find him.”

Emmanuella’s mother muttered under her breath and cast her gaze at the ceiling.

Erin fixed his gaze on his shoes. “I’m sorry.”

Emmanuella was undaunted. “See, Mama? He needs me.”

Daring a glance upward, Erin saw Emmanuella’s mother nodding at him, lips flat. “You sit with my mother and Emmanuella, and I’ll find your father. What’s your name, and what’s your father’s name?”

“Erin Andreas, ma’am. My father is John Jean Andreas.”

The woman’s face became a stony mask.

Emmanuella’s grandmother chuckled darkly. “Don’t that beat all.”

Erin worried he should maybe apologize again.

Emmanuella’s mother sighed. “All right. I think I know exactly where your father is. Wait here. I’ll be back soon.”

She left the lobby, and as soon as she was gone, the grandmother sat beside him. After opening her large purse, she produced half a sandwich in a bag and gave it to Erin.

“Eat this, boy. When Nicolas returns, I’ll send him out to get you some milk. Maybe something sweet too, if you eat all of your sandwich.”

Erin peeled away the cellophane. The sandwich smelled strongly of mayonnaise, mustard, and onions. He’d never seen anything like it.

Emmanuella nudged him with her elbow. “Go on, eat it, don’t stare at it. Haven’t you seen an egg salad sandwich before?”

Erin hadn’t, but he didn’t want to say so. He shoved his uncertainty aside and took a bite. His eyes widened. “This is good. Really good.”

Emmanuella beamed with pride. “Grandma Emerson makes the best egg salad sandwiches.”

He finished it quickly, and while he ate, Emmanuella settled in beside him, opening the book on his lap. “When you’re done eating, let’s read this book together. I can read it, but I’m slow, so it’s better if you do most of it. My brother Nick won’t. He says it’s too girly.” Emmanuella smiled at Erin. “But you look a lot like a girl, so you won’t mind.”

“Hush now,” Emmanuella’s grandmother said.

Erin was used to being told he was girly. “I’ll read your book.” He wiped his mouth with his fingers. “I think I need to get a drink of water first, though.”

“I’ll get it for you.” Emmanuella popped off the chair, beaming. “They have cups by the water fountains here. I’ll bring the drink to you.”

She ran across the room—until her grandmother scolded her and told her to walk—hurrying with the paper cup full of water. As Erin drank it, Emmanuella studied his hair.

“Your hair is too fuzzy. You don’t use enough grease on it.”

“White boys can’t use grease.” Grandma Emerson was reading a book now. “Though he could stand to wash less and simply use conditioner.”

Erin blinked at her. “Would that work?”

Emmanuella’s grandmother shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder if white mothers teach their children anything.”

Erin’s certainly hadn’t taught him much, and now she didn’t even want to live with him. “Thank you. I’ll try it.”

Emmanuella tapped his leg impatiently. “It’s time to read my book.”

The book was a fairy tale of sorts, a story about a princess who was kidnapped by an ogre king and held in his castle until the prince appeared, sword in hand, to slay the ogre and rescue her. Emmanuella knew the story well, interjecting occasionally when she recognized words or remembered certain parts. She also added her own commentary.

“The ogre king is so ugly.” Then, on another page, “You’re like the princess, see? You have the same hair and the same nose.”

This got another reprimand from her grandmother.

Erin didn’t mind, though. Besides, he felt like the princess in the castle a lot of the time. Except he didn’t agree—the ogre king was a bit rugged, but he wasn’t ugly. Erin preferred him to the prince, to be honest. He looked similar to the boy he’d met in the hallway earlier, which probably helped make Erin partial to the ogre king. In fact, Erin was disappointed, because he could tell how the story was going to end, and he didn’t want the ogre king to die. He wanted….

He stared at the scowling ogre king—muscled and swarthy, dark hair wild, glaring out at Erin. Erin’s chest felt funny, and so did his stomach.

He wanted….

“Who’s this guy?”

Erin blinked, his focus shifting from the fear inside his head to the unknown in front of him. A boy about his age, maybe slightly older, stood above his chair, glowering. Erin shrank into his seat as Emmanuella’s grandmother swatted the newcomer.

“Nicolas Beckert, mind your manners. Where have you been all this time? Did they move the cafeteria to the moon?”

“I ran into Owen Gagnon. His dad dragged him here, I guess, and he’s angry. I figured somebody had to calm him down.” He turned to Erin, casting a protective glance at his sister. “I’m Nick Beckert. Who are you?”

Erin did his best to sit up straight and hold out his hand without knocking the book off his lap. It didn’t work, because the book slid and he had to grab it, and he ended up looking like an idiot. “Erin Andreas. P-pleased to meet you.”

“Aw, hell.”

“I will wash your mouth out with soap.” Emmanuella’s grandmother pulled her wallet out of her purse. “Go back to the cafeteria and get some milk. Whole milk, and some cake. This boy is too thin.”

“Grandma.”

“Don’t Grandma me. You do as you’re told.”

Nick clenched his fists at his sides. “I don’t want to give him milk and cake.”

“It’s clear to me you want a whipping as well as a mouth full of soap.” She handed him a bill. “Now go and get—”

“Erin.”

Erin’s grip on the book slipped at the sound of his father’s voice. The egg salad sandwich in his stomach turned over as he stumbled to his feet, fighting the urge to cower, knowing he had to stand up straight or it would be worse. So much worse.

John Jean Andreas towered over his son, his displeasure coming off him in tight waves. “Why are you here clutching a picture book? You were supposed to meet me, and now I’ve had to come find you.”

Erin was cold to his bones, but he dared not let himself tremble. He wished he hadn’t eaten. “I’m sorry, Father.”

“He wasn’t causing any trouble.” This came from Grandma Emerson, speaking with a firmness that almost made Erin more nervous of her than he was of his father. “Poor child was lost and hungry. We were happy to help him out.”

“Mama.” Emmanuella’s mother’s voice was sharp with warning.

Grandma Emerson ignored her, easing into her chair. She patted Erin on the small of his back. “You go on, young man, and don’t keep your father waiting. Thank you for reading so patiently to Emmanuella.”

Erin walked toward his father, who was already leaving. At the last second, Erin remembered himself and turned. “Thank you for the sandwich.”

Grandma Emerson nodded, then waved him on.

As soon as they were out of earshot, his father started in on him.

“What did you think you were doing? Why didn’t you come directly to me?”

Erin wanted to hunch his shoulders, but he knew he couldn’t without getting yelled at, so he simply kept his gaze down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know where you were. It’s so big.”

“For heaven’s sake, it’s not as if we’re in the Damon Building. This is only the St. Mary’s campus.”

“I’m sorry.”

His father pursed his lips and smoothed his hands over his suit. “It’s fine. I don’t like how they had to find you for me, but it’s done now.” John Jean pushed the button for the elevator. “Stay away from the Beckerts. Collin Beckert has finally muscled himself onto the St. Ann’s board, but if we have our way, it’ll only be temporary. Christian’s cancer is supposed to be treatable, but… well, we have to tread carefully. Don’t muddy the waters for me.”

This must have been why Nick’s family reacted coldly when they’d heard Erin’s name and his father’s. It was another one of his father’s work things, something to do with the hospital in Copper Point. It always had to do with the hospital. All Erin could think of, though, was Emmanuella’s kindness and Grandma Emerson’s egg salad sandwich.

Erin wished he’d gotten to know Nick better, even if Nick didn’t like him. Maybe if he’d spent more time with him, he could have changed his mind. People in Copper Point were kinder than the other people at boarding school. Erin longed to meet boys his age and have them over while he was on break. Just one friend would do… but it never worked out.

His father led him to another lobby area, where they sat down to wait. His father read the newspaper, and Erin perched quietly beside him, doing nothing.

He didn’t know why he was there, but he knew better than to ask questions. His father would tell him what to do when it was time. He did his best to concentrate on being still and ready for whenever his father would want him.

Except it wasn’t easy, because he kept thinking of Emmanuella’s picture book and the ogre king. More specifically, his reaction to the ogre king. What did it mean? Did it mean anything? It terrified him, but he didn’t know what to do with his emotions. He’d had all sorts of strange feelings lately about a lot of things. He didn’t want to do anything with them, but it was as if something had awakened in him, and though he didn’t understand it yet, he was pretty sure it wasn’t good. Like how he kept thinking about the ogre king, wishing he had someone strong and bold in his life to burst in and take care of everything.

Maybe the ogre king would care for him too.

Erin swallowed and ducked his head, cheeks heating.

His father’s sharp flick to his knee brought Erin upright, dispelling thoughts of the ogre king. His father kept his gaze on the far wall. “I’m going to check with the nurse to see if Christian is ready for visitors yet. When we go in, I want you on your best behavior. He’ll be impressed you’ve come along, so make sure you don’t stand there like a fool. Be intelligent. Ask polite questions. Look interested.”

Erin still didn’t understand, but he didn’t dare ask for clarification. He’d have to figure it out. Closing his fists nervously against his thighs, he nodded. “Yes, Father.”

John Jean rose. “Stay here.”

Erin didn’t allow himself to relax until his father disappeared around the corner, but even then he only allowed himself a sigh, not easing his posture. Moments later Nick came toward him from the other direction, holding a container of milk and a piece of chocolate cake on a plate wrapped in plastic.

Erin’s whole spirit lifted, and he hoped the smile on his face wasn’t goofy. “You came back.”

“Here.” Nick held the milk and cake out to Erin.

Erin took the items, glancing at the place where his father had disappeared, but the hallway in that direction remained empty. “Thanks.” He couldn’t drink or eat, not with his stomach this queasy, but he couldn’t throw anything away until Nick left. Not that he wanted Nick to go.

Nick sat on a chair opposite Erin, eyeing him uncertainly. “Your dad is scary.”

Erin stared at the food in his hands, not knowing what to say to that. Not out loud.

He can be scary, yes. But he’s my father, and he’s the only parent who cares about me at all. Even if he’s a little mean sometimes, I can’t afford to lose him, or I won’t have anyone. And I’m terrified of being alone.

No. He definitely couldn’t say any of that.

A lump formed in Erin’s throat, and he scraped his thumbnail along the side of the milk carton.

Nick shifted uncomfortably. “Are you really okay? Because… well, you seem like you’re scared.”

When Erin remained quiet, Nick blushed and stood up. “I know it’s not my business, but I wanted to let you know, if it’s not your dad making you scared, if it’s bullies in Copper Point or something like that… I’m not much help, but there’s a guy you might want to look for.”

Erin blinked. “A guy?”

“Owen Gagnon.”

Owen Gagnon. “The person you were talking to in the cafeteria?”

Nick nodded. “Owen’s always on the streets, getting in fights. He’s pretty rough around the edges, and a lot of people are scared of him. He’ll defend you if you’re getting bullied. Especially… somebody like you.”

Erin clutched the milk carton. “What do you mean… someone like me?”

Nick averted his gaze. “You know. Someone… frail. Quiet. Nervous. Who looks a little girlish and will read picture books about princesses.”

Erin’s reaction to the ogre king came back to him, and he panicked. “I’m not—I—”

Nick held up a hand. “It doesn’t bother me, okay? I’m just telling you. If you’re in town and you’re ever in trouble, look for Owen. And good luck with your dad.”

Still holding the milk and cake, Erin watched Nick leave. He didn’t know what to make of anything Nick had said. He wasn’t sure if they were friends yet or not.

“Erin.”

His father’s voice jolted him out of his woolgathering, and he stood, discreetly tossing the food onto his chair. “I’m coming.” He smoothed out his suit and hurried across the lobby toward the doors leading to the patient rooms.

What Nick had said about Owen, the rough-around-the-edges bully-beater, rolled around Erin’s head. Owen Gagnon. Erin liked the name. Would he really help Erin simply for asking? Because he was a hero who stood up to bullies?

Would you defend me against my father too?

“Stop falling behind.”

Erin shuffled to catch up, pushing his daydreams aside. He shouldn’t think about that anyway. He needed to focus on getting on his father’s good side, not finding someone to stand between the two of them. Also, he rarely left the house in Copper Point when he was visiting except to go where his father told him—he wasn’t going to run into this Owen person. And even if he did, even if he wanted it, no one could protect him from his father.

“William.” Erin’s father clapped a tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome man on the back. “You devil. I didn’t know you were coming.”

The tall man put a hand on John Jean’s forearm and winked. “Can’t leave our dear company chairman all alone now, can we?” He saw Erin, and his eyes widened. “This your boy, John Jean? My God, but he’s grown.”

Erin scurried forward, awkwardly introducing himself to the stranger, after which his father finished speaking for him. “Yes, he’s thirteen now. Erin’s at Trinity Academy in Sault St. Marie and getting top grades. Can’t keep his nose out of a book.”

William rubbed his chin. “They have a decent music program? Maybe I could ship this one over there.”

“I’m not going to Canada.”

The sharp retort startled Erin, and it wasn’t until William moved that Erin saw him, the boy from the hall, the one who had started to help Erin before he ran away. The one who looked like the ogre king.

He wasn’t much of a king right now. More of a wiry, lanky boy sitting in the corner, legs drawn in close, dark head bent over a handheld video game with the sound off. Still, Erin’s heart beat faster at the sight of him. He couldn’t believe they’d met again, here.

As William regarded his sullen son, his perfect smile slipped, his expression going dark. “What did I tell you about putting that thing away, Owen?”

Owen. Erin straightened, staring at the boy with new eyes. Was this Owen Gagnon? The bully killer?

The one who would defend me? Was his ogre king and potential defender one and the same?

Owen unfolded from the floor, looking as liable to eat you as save you. Not a hero at all. Dangerous.

Beautiful.

Wheels clicked in Erin’s head as he understood what his reaction to Owen, to the ogre king in the story, meant. He’s wild and menacing and handsome, and I want him to want me the way I want him.

Their eyes met briefly, and for a moment Erin couldn’t breathe.

This is who I want to rescue me from the castle.

“We’ll see you later,” John Jean said to William, ushering Erin inside.

Except they hadn’t seen the Gagnons later. They weren’t in the hallway when Erin and his father finished their visit with Christian West, and though Erin went out of his way to search for Owen in town, he didn’t see him the rest of that break, or the next.

Erin was disappointed, but he didn’t let himself dwell on Owen Gagnon, Nick, Emmanuella, or thoughts of ogre kings. Once he returned to school, he learned to dodge the bullies on his own. He told himself he didn’t mind being alone, that it was fine staying in the shadows where no one could see him.

He was almost able to believe his own lies, until a full year later when, while home for a break, one evening Erin came downstairs to find something to eat and encountered the most beautiful violin playing he’d heard in his life.

Ever since Erin’s mother left, the main part of the mansion was off-limits, rented out or made over for the museum tours, and Erin had no problem staying away when other people were in the house. Whatever was happening right now, however, was so incredible he had to peek. The sound of the violin lured Erin helplessly forward, compelling him to sneak into the shadows of the parlor.

He drew aside the curtain… and there was Owen Gagnon, bright and shining as he played violin for Copper Point’s wealthiest citizens.

Oh, but he’d gotten so much more handsome since the last time Erin had seen him. He was especially beautiful as he played. There were other strings as well, but Owen sat in the center of the group, the youngest member there, the soloist. Playing with his eyes closed, he swayed in his seat, his messy black hair whipping as his bow flew across the strings.

Erin never wanted the music to end.

Diane, the caretaker of the museum section of the house, poked a feather duster in his face as she caught Erin gawking. He retreated, but to his surprise, Diane didn’t scold him for being where he shouldn’t.

“Good, isn’t he?” She looked wistful. “He’s always in trouble, unless he has that violin in his hand. They say he could get into any music college he wanted.”

Erin could believe it. He lingered until the concert was over, wanting to reach out to Owen. But while watching Owen hobnob with guests during the after-party, Erin became too intimidated to step forward. This was a king, yes, not an ogre before him, and kings never spoke to Erin.

Losing his nerve, Erin ended up going to his room without so much as catching Owen’s gaze.

It wasn’t until he was home during the summer of his junior year and heard the scandal of Owen’s abandoned music scholarship that Erin knew something had gone wrong. Erin only heard bits and pieces of rumors, as isolated as he was, but the result was there would be no music school for Owen, period. Apparently he was going to college to be a doctor.

Erin wished he had the courage to find Owen and ask what had happened.

He had no reason to do so. Owen was a boy he’d seen twice, whom he’d barely spoken to. Except Erin couldn’t get him out of his mind. Part of him still harbored silly thoughts from what Nick had told him at Mayo Clinic, how Owen was good at chasing away bullies.

Maybe… maybe this one time, Owen needed Erin to help him chase them away.

When Erin learned Owen liked to hang out at Bayview Park at night, he took walks there too in hopes of running into him. He found him, except he walked past him five or six times, too nervous to attempt an approach. It was on the seventh night when, without Erin having to orchestrate anything, they nearly ran straight into each other.

“Oh.” Blushing, Erin stepped out of the way, but he tripped over his feet and almost crashed backward.

Owen caught him. “Careful. You okay?”

This is just another boy. He’s definitely not the boy you’ve made him out to be in your head. God help him, but Owen had aged well. He was even more handsome, in Erin’s opinion, when he was troubled. His hair had lightened over the years, and the tips had burned blond from the sun. He still had an aura of sadness about him, and it drew Erin in the most.

Owen smiled at him, sorrowful, shy… and Erin was lost.

Erin needed to say something. He stammered around a reply. “I—I’m fine. S-sorry.”

“I keep seeing you around. Are you new here?”

Was this flirting? Erin tucked his unruly hair behind his ear, scolding his own thoughts. For heaven’s sake, this wasn’t flirting. It was polite inquiry. “I… no. But I’m not usually in town. In fact, I go back to school next week.”

“Me too. I mean, I leave for college.” Owen folded his arms over his chest and rubbed his toe awkwardly in an anthill along the sidewalk. “I never saw you in school. I’d have remembered you.”

I’d have remembered you. That was flirting. No question about it. Erin couldn’t breathe.

In this moment, dizzy from lack of air, lost in wonderment, finally noticed by someone after years of loneliness, Erin Andreas acknowledged he was in love. He admitted he had been, honestly, since Owen had stopped him in the Mayo Clinic hallway and asked him if he was all right.

Erin forced himself to inhale, fought through his awkwardness, trying so hard to speak the words in his heart. It’s because I never got to go to school here, but I wanted to. Perhaps we can exchange email addresses. Or phone numbers. Maybe the next time we’re both in town we can walk along the bay together.

“I—”

“Hey, Owen, what the hell are you doing?”

Erin startled, and Owen turned toward the road, where a car had slowed down. Heart sinking, Erin noted how Owen’s expression shone like a sun as he waved to the person who had called out to him.

“Sorry, my friends are here to pick me up. What were you saying?”

Nothing. I wasn’t saying anything at all. Erin forced a smile. “It’s okay. I don’t want to keep you.”

Frowning in confusion, Owen hesitated. Then he nodded. “Well, I’ll see you around.”

Erin waved halfheartedly. As the door to the car opened and Owen climbed in, Erin heard, over pulsing house music, “What were you doing with Erin Andreas?”

Owen drew back in surprise and glanced Erin’s way.

Blinking rapidly, Erin hurried in the opposite direction, and he never went to walk by the bay again, not that break or any other.

He wasn’t a princess after all, and not even an ogre was going to come rescue him.

Tucking his love deep into his heart, Erin put everything away: his longing for a partner, his whimsical dreams of princes and ogre kings. He dismissed his desires for connection, forgot he’d ever had them. He became self-sufficient and competent, focusing on pleasing his father and furthering his career, his family’s name. He told himself he’d never fall for anyone, and for a long time, he was able to uphold his vow.

Then one day Erin returned to Copper Point for good, and the ogre king was already there, waiting for him, guarding the castle Erin was meant to conquer. Owen the Ogre was just as boorish and terrible as the fairy tale had warned, destroying Erin’s orderly life with a cheeky wink and grin.

Making Erin fall in love all over again.

Chapter One

WHEN OWEN Gagnon’s friend Simon came by his house and asked him to be part of the hospital bachelor auction Valentine’s Day fundraiser, he simply snorted and resumed arguing on an online political board.

Unfortunately Simon wasn’t easily deterred. “Come on. We’re short so many volunteers, and it’s for a good cause. We need this cardiac unit.”

Owen continued to type. “Then you and loverboy sign up.”

“Hong-Wei and I can’t. They want unmarried men.”

“You and Jack aren’t married yet.” Owen waggled his eyebrows. “Get on the stage, and I’ll bid for you.”

Simon swatted him. “They don’t want married or engaged men. Jared’s already said yes. I need one more volunteer and I’ll have met my quota for the committee.”

“This is sexist as hell, only asking men. Why can’t they do a gender-neutral auction?”

With a sigh, Simon sat beside him. “I know, but I’ve about sprained my back trying to yank the rudder on this ship so we stay away from insensitive areas. You wouldn’t believe some of the racist, sexist, homophobic things these people wanted to do for a fundraiser.”

“I would absolutely believe it.” Owen ran a finger down Simon’s nose. “Which is why I’m steering clear.”

“Please, Owen. I didn’t ask you to be part of the entertainment committee like I did Hong-Wei. I just need you to stand on stage for ten minutes while people bid on a date with you for charity.”

Owen closed the laptop. “First of all, Jack loves performing, so it’s no hardship. I assume your fiancé is playing with his damn quartet?”

“You could be in the quartet too. Ram keeps saying he’d make it a quintet if you came in as the other violin. He can play cello and double bass too.” Simon bit his lip. “I don’t know the whole story on why you don’t want to play anymore, but it has been a long time—”

Owen held up a hand, unwilling to let Simon see how the simple mention of the violin made him queasy. “I’m not joining Ram’s strings club, and I won’t be auctioned off for a date. Don’t start a sob story about the cardiac unit either. No one is going to bid on me if you put me on the block.”

Simon’s blush said this hiccup had occurred to him. “It’s not only for dates. People can ask for favors or things. Plus I have a plan.”

Oh hell. “Absolutely not. I’m not standing on stage so you and Jack can pity bid on me or so some nurse’s aide can get revenge.”

“Owen—”

Rising, Owen went for the door, grabbing his coat on the way. “I’m going to work.”

“But we don’t have surgery until ten today.”

“I’m going to sit in the lounge and glare at people until your hubby needs me.”

This was exactly what Owen ended up doing. The house he shared with Jared—which he used to share with Simon and Jared, before Simon went and fell and love—was only a mile from St. Ann’s Medical Center, and three-quarters of a mile from the condo where Jack and Simon lived. It had snowed again the night before, bringing the on-the-ground total to a foot and a half. Damn lake effect snow anyway. The temperature was in the midtwenties, which for the end of January in northern Wisconsin was practically balmy. He considered walking, but since half the sidewalks were undoubtedly still not cleared, he drove.

He met Simon’s fiancé, Dr. Wu—Hong-Wei to Simon, Jack to everyone else—in the parking lot. Jack was huddled into his hat and scarf and shivering. “Owen, how are you not freezing?”

“Because this isn’t cold.”

Jack, born in Taiwan and living in Houston until last year, grunted as he hustled to the door. He held it for Owen, which was nice of him.

It was also suspicious.

Owen cast a side glance at him. “You’re here early for Monday. Since you didn’t have call this weekend, you don’t have any patients to see in rounds.”

“Need to go over a few files before surgery.”

Something fishy was definitely going on, and Owen was sure Jack was here because Simon had sent him to fulfill the mission he’d failed on. “I’m killing some time before surgery, so I guess I’ll see you later.”

Jack waved as they parted ways, Owen heading for the elevator, Jack the clinic entrance.

In the lounge, Owen surveyed the paper over coffee, reading the minutes of the most recent hospital board meeting, scanning an editorial that questioned where the funding had gone for the proposed cardiac program. Two of the visiting specialists were in the room with him, the speech therapist and the podiatrist. They were having a pleasant chat near the soda machine, but after a glare from Owen, they changed it to a hushed conversation. Two family medicine doctors entered, guffawing about something; then one of them shushed the other. “Gagnon’s here.”

Owen smiled behind his paper. He enjoyed his reputation as the resident pariah. It allowed him to live his life in peace.

The door opened again, and this time Jack entered. Owen groaned and slid deeper behind his paper.

Jack waved at the other doctors and returned their polite greetings before settling beside Owen. “Don’t mind me.” He tugged at the edge of the local news section. “Anything good?”

“The usual nonsense. Someone is up in arms about the cardiac unit, convinced the fundraiser won’t bring in enough money because there’s some kind of backroom conspiracy. Someone wrote a letter to the editor about the mine ruining the environment, and someone else wrote how we need more jobs. Then there’s one complaining about whoever is kicking over his garbage cans.”

Jack looked bemused. “I’ll never get over small towns.”

Owen pretended to read the paper a little longer, then folded it. “I’m tired of waiting. Ask me to take part in the auction so I can tell you no.”

Jack stared back implacably. “I wasn’t going to ask because I knew you’d say no.”

“Seriously, you can stand down. Obviously I’m not going to participate, but I’ll help Si find someone to fill his quota.”

Jack shrugged. “Don’t worry. I’m looking.”

“You don’t need to. I can do it, I said.”

Jack glanced around the room at the other doctors, who regarded Owen with unease and Jack with respect bordering on awe. “I think it’ll be better if you leave it to me.”

Oh, now Owen was going to find Simon’s last person for sure.

He left the lounge and wandered the halls, ignoring the way the nursing staff scuttled away from him. That was nothing new. He scanned every man he encountered, doctors and nurses both, for potential bachelor auction candidates. He was immediately hampered, though, by several factors. Jack was right, his pariah status did him no favors. Also, he had no idea who was already roped into the thing or who was working the night of the fundraiser and therefore was out of commission.

The thought of Jack’s knowing smirk sent Owen grumbling to the third floor and the administration offices, where he tried the most obvious and therefore clearly stupid get, the hospital CEO, Nick Beckert.

Beckert was in his office, and he happily waved Owen inside. He grinned sadly when Owen asked if he could pin him down for the auction. “I was the first one they put on the list, I hate to tell you. But why are you asking me? I didn’t think you were on the recruiting committee.”

“I’m not. I was recruited, and I’m trying to find a replacement.”

Nick lifted his eyebrows and whistled low. “Good luck. From what I hear, everyone else has either been called up, is on shift, or is ineligible.”

Good grief. “How is that possible? Also, why is this limited only to men, by the way?”

“Because the planning committee is short on imagination and big on words like traditional values. If I’d known you were this invested, I would’ve put you on the team.”

Owen held up his hands. “I’m fine helping find the last victim, thanks. There’s got to be at least one single male who isn’t on shift. I need to know who’s already signed up and who isn’t eligible.”

“You’ll need to talk to Erin.”

“Speaking of Andreas, how come he’s not on the list?”

“Ineligible.”

“On what grounds?” Owen sat up straighter. “His father didn’t finally coerce him into an engagement, did he?”

“No. But he’s recused as a committee member.”

Owen eased back, annoyed at his heart for kicking up a notch at the idea of Erin engaged. “That’s ridiculous. Why can’t committee members be on the auction block?”

“I did tell you this was an interesting group. The only rudders we had were Erin and Simon, and Erin wasn’t supposed to participate, simply ensure the evening ran smoothly.” Nick grimaced. “Between you and me, it’s just as well he couldn’t be asked to be auctioned off. His father would have arranged for something uncomfortable.”

True. After all they owed Erin for, Owen would have ended up bidding on him to get him out of his father’s clutches, which would’ve made Erin furious.

Actually, now Owen was mad he couldn’t do this.

Owen sighed. “This whole Valentine’s Day fundraiser is ridiculous. Why aren’t they doing a tired old dinner on a random weekend in March the way they usually do?”

“Because someone stood up in front of the board and declared we were going to do things differently. And now we’re doing things differently. All of the things. Incredibly differently.” Nick pushed his glasses higher on his nose. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a mountain of work to finish before the board meeting.”

Owen wanted to sit and argue with Nick longer, but he knew he’d get nowhere. The hospital CEO was cautious, though Owen understood why. He’d been brought on after the former president embezzled money from the hospital, but his predecessor had been chummy with the present hospital board, so they resented Nick at every turn. Additionally, his family had moved to Copper Point when he was young, and his father had joined and left the board in a scandal in the nineties. Though Nick had done everything he could to prove himself, plenty of people in town still saw him as a member of an enemy camp. Nick couldn’t help Owen. He had enough work to do helping himself.

Owen could feel the writing on the wall about this stupid fundraiser. He was annoyed, and he wanted to argue. He wanted to snarl at someone without having to worry about being polite. If he was called a demon or a dragon or a devil or a monster or an ogre, he wanted it to be done with a glint in his accuser’s eye, not a tinge of fear.

In short, he wanted to spar, and he knew exactly who he needed to see.

Simply pushing his way into Erin Andreas’s office, taking in the ridiculously neat room, gave Owen a satisfying rush of annoyance. Nick’s office was tidy, but it had a reasonable amount of lived-in clutter: overflowing inboxes, forgotten coffee cups, unopened mail in piles on filing cabinets, yesterday’s blazer folded in a casual heap over the arm of a chair. Not Erin’s workspace. It looked as if someone had gone across the bookshelves with a ruler and made sure the books and binders lined up, not a single one of them sticking out farther than the other, the decorative knickknacks on top drab and soulless, yanked from some design catalog—but perfectly arranged. There were three plants in the window spaced evenly across, neatly trimmed, not a dead leaf among them. The desk was clear of everything but Erin’s ubiquitous laptop and a wire pencil holder—containing only crisply sharpened pencils—a pencil sharpener devoid of shavings, a desk lamp tilted at a ninety-degree angle, and of course his inbox. The papers and files inside of it were stacked in such incredible alignment they looked like a single unit.

In the middle of the scene was the man himself, Erin Andreas, human resources director. He’d arrived almost two years ago to work at St. Ann’s, but in the mindset of Copper Point, he was still new, especially since the previous HR director had held the position for twenty-five years. Erin wore the same prim heather gray suit he always did, with the same pristine white shirt. Only the tie changed, and not much. Today it was dark gray, almost black. It didn’t suit him at all, though it did match the desk. The suit choked Erin’s petite frame and made most of his body blend into his desk chair, giving the illusion he’d been strapped into it by invisible threads.

The only thing about the man that didn’t fit the corporate image was his hair, which was curly and too long, resting in unruly ringlets around his ears and brushing his collar. The ringlets shone in the fluorescent overhead lighting, and as always Owen had the juvenile urge to tug at one and make it bounce. He managed to refrain, but his gaze trailed them, and he knew a whisper of delight as one caught the edge of Erin’s collar and another boinged against his eyebrows as he lifted his head.

A kick hit Owen in his belly as his opponent’s eyes ignited with fire. Finally.

Erin pursed his lips. “Is there any hope you will ever learn to knock?”

Owen shut the door and plunked with deliberate heaviness in the chair opposite Erin’s desk, knocking it out of its careful alignment. He purred inwardly as Erin’s annoyance ticked up a notch.

He kept his pleasure from his face as he laced his fingers over his chest. “What’s going to change if I rap my knuckles on the door?”

“I’ll tell you to go away because I’m busy.”

“Precisely why I don’t knock.”

The curls boinged again as Erin leaned over the top of his computer. “Did you have some purpose in coming here today, or is this playground-bully routine your way of telling me our resident anesthesiologist needs more work assigned to him?”

Oh yes, this was precisely what Owen had come for. Narrowing his eyes, he gave Erin a thin, menacing smile. “I have a bone to pick with you about this ridiculous auction.”

Flinching, Erin lowered his eyes to his computer screen. “I don’t have any authority over that. I’m only on the committee.”

Owen hesitated, thrown off his game. Okay, what in the hell was that about? This was decidedly not in the script. Thinking he must have stepped in something without realizing it, Owen softened. “I get the concert, the overpriced dinner, the usual crap. Where in God’s name did this auction come from, though, and why is every single male roped into it whether they want to be part of it or not? I’m the last person you want up there. I’m either going to be laughed into the wings or bought up by a cabal of nurses with a grudge.”

This was Erin’s cue to tell Owen to stay out of committee business unless he wanted to sign up and do the work, to remind him everyone in the hospital had to volunteer, to point out he could do this duty since he hadn’t signed up to do anything else. Any of those responses would have been fine and given Owen an excuse to snarl in response again. He was ready for them.

Instead Erin… paled. When he spoke, he didn’t sound irritated half as much as he sounded nervous. “I don’t have time to entertain your pointless questions right now, Dr. Gagnon. If you don’t mind, I want to finish preparing for the meeting. I’m certain you have somewhere else to be.”

Owen was so stunned he had no idea how to respond, could only gape at Erin, who in turn stared at his laptop screen, face flushed.

No acrid rejoinder. No demands Owen leave his office with a heat that said, in fact, he wanted him to stay and keep shouting until they nearly burned down the hospital. Nothing at all.

This was… weird.

There was no denying Erin had been off his game for some time, a little more frazzled around the edges, slightly more inward than normal. It was easy to pinpoint ground zero for his transformation: he’d been the person who’d stood up in front of the hospital board, after all. Except he hadn’t stood. He’d sat defiantly in the middle of the hospital cafeteria, waiting for his father—the hospital board president—to gut him after Erin sent a particularly nuclear staff memo.

This reaction was different, though. Was it about the committee? Owen frowned at Erin, disquiet settling in his gut. Everyone in the hospital rejoiced at the freedom Erin’s reversal of the policy had granted them. How much of the cost had come on Erin’s shoulders?

Had everyone ignored that and left him to face dragons alone? Had Owen done that too?

Well, now he felt like an ass.

Erin glanced up from the computer, saw Owen regarding him with concern, and immediately swapped his hollow expression with an icy glare. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

The disdain was such a relief Owen had to suppress a fist pump. He wanted to ask Erin what was wrong, but he was smart enough not to make a direct line of questioning. “What’s your meeting about?”

Internally he winced—well, that wasn’t a direct question, but it was a ridiculous angle to take. The delivery was too bald, almost politely inquisitive. Now Erin regarded him warily, as if he were a snake about to strike. “My office is not a social lounge. If you don’t have business with me, please leave.”

Nice save. Owen leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees. Think of another topic. Another topic, anything, anything…. “This Valentine’s Day auction is a mess. There’s got to be time to kill it.”

What the fuck was with him? Totally the wrong tone, completely the wrong approach, and the dead worst thing to bring up.

Maybe it would be okay. Maybe he’d pissed Erin off with this out-and-out begging. Maybe he’d fix Owen with an icy smile and tell him off as he’d never been told off. Then everything would be normal again.

Erin shrank into his chair, color draining from his face as he lowered his gaze, his voice going quiet. “The auction is nonnegotiable.”

An ill wind blew over Owen’s neck, and he forgot all about fighting, all about delicately dancing around the topic. “Erin, what is going on with you?”

Erin iced over and aimed a long, slender finger at the door. “Leave.”

“Why are you closing up like this every time I bring up the auction? Why are you barely fighting with me?”

Why do you look so… lost?

Erin said nothing, and Owen angsted in a conflicted private storm, at a loss over what to do. He’d sparred with Erin since he’d come to St. Ann’s, and they’d never been anything close to friends, but it wasn’t as if he didn’t care about the man as a human being. Particularly since that stunt with the memo, Owen had begun to rethink his stance on Erin Andreas entirely, because clearly this man whom he’d thought of as aligned with the old guard on the board had been an ally all along. For some time now, Owen had wanted to know what other secrets this man was hiding, but it was difficult when their entire relationship was built on arguments.

Looking at Erin now, feeling the fractures in him, Owen had never been more motivated to craft a bridge toward a new understanding between them. What could be the problem? Maybe if he nudged him in the right direction, Erin would loosen up and tell him what was going on.

It wasn’t hard to guess what the problem likely was, the more he thought about it.

“Your father.” Owen hesitated, trying to figure out what to add, then decided that was enough to get started.

Erin didn’t loosen up. “At whatever point you’d like to leave, please do so.”

Owen was so frustrated. “I just want to help. Let me help. You don’t want help?”

He didn’t know if it was an improvement or not, but Erin wasn’t frozen or hollow-looking anymore. He was coldly furious. “Why would I want your help?”

Yikes. Also, ouch. Owen rubbed his cheek. “Harsh.”

Erin gathered a pile of papers and shuffled them, banging the bottoms with excessive force against the desk. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“That is the biggest line of bull I’ve ever heard. You’re completely wooden, you can barely maintain eye contact with me, and you get weird every time I bring up the auction. Usually you can argue with me until we’re both blue in the face, but you can’t keep up more than a few lines of banter today. Something is wrong.” He pursed his lips. “It’s got to be your father.”

For a moment Owen had him. Erin had softened—and looked at him—when Owen pointed out he couldn’t maintain eye contact, and just before the end, he seemed almost ready to, if not confess the problem, at least admit there was one.

The second Owen said your father, though, he lost him. His cool, dead mask sliding back into place, Erin averted his gaze again. “Leave, or I’ll tell the entertainment committee you’ve volunteered for a violin solo.”

Owen drew back as if he’d been slapped.

Rising, he pushed Erin’s desk light into the most obscene angle possible and exited the office without a word. If he was going to play that kind of dirty pool, he could damn well save himself.

ERIN DIDN’T look away from his computer screen, acutely aware of the place Owen had occupied, of his scent lingering in the room. Owen’s shocked expression echoed too, burned on Erin’s mind.

He hadn’t meant to make him that upset.

After fixing the lamp, Erin resumed his mindless moving of the cursor across the screen, not reading the report open in front of him. Goddamn Owen, finding the one topic Erin didn’t want to talk about. He didn’t know why he should be surprised, as this was the man’s specialty.

Something was off about him, though. What was all that about, saying he wanted to help? Erin’s cheeks pinked in memory. Had that been some advanced level of teasing?

Had it been flirting?

Closing his eyes, Erin shook the nonsense out of his head. Don’t be ridiculous.

He didn’t know what to make of Owen so doggedly bringing up the auction and Erin’s father.

A knock on the door startled him. The door was open, but Nicolas Beckert always knocked. “Hey.” Nick’s expression changed to concern. “You okay? I saw Gagnon go by looking ready to murder someone.”

Erin smoothed his fingertips across his desktop. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

What a lie.

Nick came into Erin’s office fully, though he didn’t sit, only lingered at the doorway. “Everything is set for the auction?”

Good God, everyone wanted to talk about it. Well, Erin didn’t mind half as much with Nick. “More or less. We have most of the bachelors lined up, as well as the pre-event entertainment, and the decorating committee is doing well. The food and venue came in under budget. Tickets are selling.”

“And how is your dad feeling about it?”

Of course Nick went right for the jugular. “He hates it and tells me every day how it’s going to be a disaster because we didn’t do the usual event.”

“Do you point out we revamped it so it was more accessible to the whole town, not only the elites, and that this vision fits in line with the rest of the hospital’s goals?”

Erin stared at his hands. “I… tried.”

Pursing his lips, Nick folded his arms over his chest.

Erin’s gaze flitted past Nick, landing on the ceiling. “He has concerns that the higher-end donors won’t make contributions since it’s a lower-class event.”

“Which is why there’s a private reception at the Andreas mansion first, and we have a VIP section reserved for them here.”

“Yes, but he doesn’t think this will be enough.” Erin held up his hands as Nick glowered again. “I know. I don’t think he’s being fair. I want to try our way. I’m nervous, though. Because if we don’t bring in enough money and we can’t pay for the cardiac unit, I don’t know how I’ll live with this.”

For several seconds Nick didn’t say anything. The sunlight from the window caught the hospital CEO just right as he leaned against the wall, making his dark skin gleam and highlighting his broad shoulders. Nick had always been handsome, kind, and competent. He’d been standoffish when they were young, but they’d shared the trenches in college and in the years that followed as they fought their respective battles. Now they worked well together and respected each other. They had trust. Which was vital these days, with everything they were going through.

If only it would be enough to get them through this without losing their jobs.

“I’ll have Wendy make sure we put as much effort as possible in promotion, reaching beyond Copper Point to the neighboring communities we serve,” Nick said at last. “And if somehow we don’t meet our goal, we’ll make up the difference with smaller events after. Because I think it’s worth doing this type of outreach for more than the money. The auction isn’t my favorite type of event, but I’m willing to play along and rake leaves as community service to promote the hospital. I want as many of our doctors, nurses, and other staff members doing the same. If I had my way, everyone would participate, but the sad truth is there are serious safety issues with women getting auctioned. Men potentially as well, but this feels like the more manageable route. In the future, perhaps we can find a fundraiser that meets all our needs.”

Erin didn’t know how to respond to such a speech, so he simply nodded. He withdrew a hand from the desktop, though, and as it rested on his thigh, it curled into a frustrated, helpless fist.

Pushing off the wall, Nick adjusted his suit. “The board meeting will start soon. I’ll go in early and do the glad-handing. You seem like you could use a few minutes. Want me to bring you a cup of coffee?”

Erin held up a hand. “Thank you, I’m fine. I’ll be along as soon as I finish this.”

Nick nodded in acknowledgment. “As you wish. Thanks for all your help.”

Alone, Erin replayed what Nick had said about the fundraiser and why they’d done it the way they had, all things Erin completely agreed with. The trouble was that his father didn’t, and he continued to make his displeasure plain, in addition to his expectation that Erin would fix it.

I just want to help. Let me help. You don’t want help?

Every standoff with Owen felt like a siege, and if Erin lost the battle, the torch Erin had carried since adolescence would be exposed. This particular exchange felt dangerous in new, more terrifying ways. Normally Owen simply insulted Erin and exchanged barbs. He’d never offered to assist.

What if Erin had said, Yes, I’d love your help? What would Owen have done?

Stop it. Pursing his lips, Erin dragged himself out of his ridiculous thoughts and back to the meeting notes on the screen in front of him. He only had a few things to finish and he could join Nick in the boardroom—

“I see from the flyers posted all over the hospital you haven’t done as I told you and changed the arrangement of the event.”

The cool, crisp tones of John Jean Andreas’s voice cut across the room and made Erin startle in his seat. “Father.” He rose, closing the laptop, trying to adopt a proper posture. “I didn’t realize you were stopping by before the meeting. It’s good to see you.”

His father closed the door as he entered the room, glancing around with his lips pressed thin in his ever-present expression of disappointment. He ran his fingers along the edge of a bookshelf, rubbed them together as if to dispel dust, then adjusted a figurine. “I thought I’d stressed to you the importance of St. Ann’s image at these functions, but I clearly didn’t put enough effort into my explanation.”

There had been so much effort in it that Erin hadn’t been able to eat dinner last night or breakfast this morning. He willed his hair to catch the beads of sweat forming on his brow. “I’m sorry, Father. As I said, it isn’t entirely up to me what happens at—”