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      “You know there are crullers on tap for you every day of the week at the bakery, Salty, but perhaps the doc here might like you to wait a couple of minutes. Now, I’ll get Jim down here and he and I’ll see to the Fish Tank.” He nodded to Alex. “Dr. Kirkland. Good to see you, despite the circumstances. You and your son see in the New Year on your own?”

      Alex nodded and gave the man’s shoulder a quick affirmative clap. “I imagine the Brady family saw it in with their usual verve.”

      “I’ll have a headache for days,” Tom confirmed with a smile.

      Alex laughed and shook his head.

      Okay. So he wasn’t Captain von Grumpy to everyone. Just her. If there was any sort of record being taken, she would like it duly noted that she found Dr. Alex Kirkland infuriatingly...he turned to her with a soft apologetic smile playing on those lips of his...gorgeous.

      He looked back at Tom. “I think Salty could do with a couple of extra pairs of hands today.”

      “That’s settled, then. I’ll get the boys down and they’ll clean her up.”

      “Not necessary!” Salty growled.

      “Definitely necessary,” said another man who looked an awful lot like Tom Brady. “From where I’m standing, you aren’t looking your best.”

      That was one way to put it.

      All the blood had drained from Salty’s face. His breath was coming in quick, sharp huffs. The body’s way of coping with pain. If they didn’t get him somewhere dry and warm soon they could add hypothermia to his list.

      As if by magic, a woman in a Maple Island Clinic jacket appeared with a backboard.

      “Can we get a bit of space around Salty, please, folks?” Alex ordered. “Just need to load him up and get him to the clinic.”

      “I don’t know what my insurance is going to think of this,” Salty bit out.

      “Doesn’t matter,” Alex said matter-of-factly. “You were doing a clinic rescue mission. All your care is on us.”

      A shot of respect crackled along Maggie’s spine. Gorgeous and with ramrod-straight integrity. She sniffed. Didn’t mean his social skills couldn’t do with some improvement, but everyone had their crosses to bear.

      Salty grumbled but didn’t resist.

      Then Alex started reciting another list of instructions so specific she had to hide her smile.

      Dr. Protocol, indeed.

      He was obviously a good doctor. His neurosurgical skills were highly lauded in all the articles she’d read about him before she’d taken the three-month contract at the clinic. Ground-breaking this and new innovations that. She’d had run-ins with a lot of surgeons in her time. They could be elitist. Reserved. Brusque. Downright rude. Alex obviously had the brains, but now that she’d watched him interact with Salty and the other islanders who were still pitching in as if this sort of thing happened every day, she realized he also had compassion. And that was a game changer as far as she was concerned. Anyone who could put themselves in someone else’s shoes...

      This was going to be a funny few months. Whether it was going to be funny ha-ha or funny peculiar remained to be seen.

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