2. Prescription For Love

“I don’t doubt your MBA from Wharton was tough to come by, but you have no idea what it’s like being a resident, especially when you’re female with kids. Nobody has room for a resident who leaves early because a kid is sick or has an after-school event. That’s what wives are for.”

Presley stared. “I don’t believe you just said that. You might be a surgeon, but you’ve never struck me as chauvinistic.”

“It’s not about being chauvinistic, it’s just the way it is. Any medical resident has a tough time having a family, and surgery is longer and tougher. But a woman has it even harder. And a single mom?” She shook her head. “Your friend Abby must have a spine of steel.”

“She’s one of the strongest people I know,” Presley said. “So try to give her a break, will you?” “I’m not planning to give her a hard time.”

“Thanks.” Presley hesitated. “So we’re good? You’re not mad at me anymore?”

Flann grinned. “You’re hard to stay mad at. Even if you didn’t make my sister stupid happy, you’d still be hard to stay mad at.”

Presley pulled her lip between her teeth. “Is she, really? Stupid happy, I mean?”

Flann cocked her head, studied her. Presley was a confident, aggressive woman and, rumor had it, a total ballbuster in the boardroom. She’d never seen her uncertain. “You’re not serious, are you?

She’s crazy about you. Why, is there a problem?”

“No, it’s just

she’s so special, you know?” Presley grimaced. “And I don’t have a lot of practice at this kind of thing.” “You mean love?” Presley nodded.

“Well,” Flann said, “I’m certainly not one to talk, but Harper knows what she wants and she wants you. That should be it, right?”

Presley let out a long breath. “You’re right. I’ve just got jitters, I guess.”

“Family coming in for the wedding?”

Presley looked pained for a second and her jaw tightened, her expression suddenly reflecting the Valkyrie she was, unafraid to battle to the death. “No. My parents are too busy and my brother—let’s just say he’s not happy with the way things turned out here. He got outmaneuvered, and his ego hasn’t recovered.”

“He sounds like an ass. Sorry for saying it.”

“That’s okay. Abby’s here, and Carrie. I’ll have friends here, and that’s enough.”

Flann circled the desk and kissed her cheek. “You’ve got lots of friends here. And a family.”

“Thanks, it means a lot to me that you’re okay with me and Harper. Because Harper would never be happy if you weren’t.”

Flann worked up a grin. “Hey. You and Harp don’t have to worry about me. I’m good.” “If anything changes—”

“Just enjoy the wedding planning, and don’t worry about anything else.” Flann hurried out before Presley could start probing any deeper into her relationship status, or lack thereof. She wasn’t like Harper. She wasn’t looking for a relationship. Harper was the heir—the one who’d be carrying on the family name, the family legacy, the Rivers dynasty. She wasn’t even a spare. All she wanted was a little uncomplicated companionship.

“See you at the game,” Carrie called.

“I’ll be waiting,” Flann tossed back as she jogged out down the hall and back toward the hospital, her domain. She took the stairs to the second floor and the ICU, wondering if Abby Remy would still be there. Trying not to wonder why a shot of adrenaline hit her in the gut when she thought about it.

CHAPTER FIVE

Flann pulled down the drive at the homestead and parked behind Harper’s pickup under the porte cochere. As she got out of her Jeep, the smell of supper mixed with fresh-mown grass enveloped her. The wafting scents carried her back to the hot summer days of her youth, and a tug in her chest made her long for simpler times. Shrugging away the whimsy, she strode around the back of the house and leapt up the two stairs onto the back porch.

Her mother called, “Shoes!”

“They’re clean,” Flann called back. “Use the mat.”

Grinning, she scraped her soles on the worn straw mat by the screen door. Most of the family was already congregated around the big trestle table in the middle of her mother’s kitchen. The weather was too warm for a fire in the deep brick hearth at the far end, and the windows above the counters along one wall were all open, letting in the aroma of honeysuckle and lilacs. Platters of baked chicken, potatoes, roasted vegetables, and biscuits filled the center of the table. Her father sat at the end closest to her in his white shirt and dark trousers, and her mother, in a cotton boat-necked floral print dress, sat at the opposite end, as it’d always been all Flann’s childhood. Harper sat on the left across from Margie, who was pretending not to read from the eReader propped against the table in her lap as she ate. Carson and the baby were missing, and she’d likely not be seen until Sunday dinner. Her husband Bill had finally come home from Afghanistan, and after the family met him at the airport, he and Carson had stayed close to home to reconnect.

Flann flopped into her chair next to Harper, grabbed an empty plate, and filled it with food. “This looks great, Mama.”