D is for Doctor (ABCs of Love Sweet Romance Book 4) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

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  A is for Author

  A is for Author Chapter 1

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  The ABCs of Love

  Released titles include:

  A is for Author

  B is for Barista

  C is for Cowboy

  D is for Doctor

  Chapter 1

  Avery Middleton stood at the corner of Marshall Boulevard and Station Twenty-nine, grocery bags in hand, and watched her new neighbor hoist a sheet of plywood onto the front porch of his home.

  She glanced over her shoulder as Melba Newberry, Avery’s neighbor on the other side, stopped beside her, her tiny Yorkie, Jasper, cradled in her arms. “What do you think he’s up to?”

  Avery reached over and scratched Jasper under his chin. “I’m guessing he probably watched the weather this morning.”

  Melba scoffed. “That storm’s still ten days out. It’ll turn north before the end of the week anyway.”

  “Probably. But even if it doesn’t, does he really want to live in the dark for the next two weeks?”

  “Better question,” Melba said, “does he know there are panels in the shed out back to cover his windows? There’s no reason to be messin’ with plywood.”

  Avery lifted her ponytail off her neck, letting the early summer breeze coming off the ocean cool her skin. “Where’s he from?”

  Melba would know. She walked up and down Marshall three times a day. If there was anything to notice, she’d notice it.

  “His license plate says Illinois, and he’s got an MUSC parking permit.”

  “You talked to him yet?” Avery asked.

  “I haven’t seen him outside until now.” Melba shifted Jasper onto her shoulder. “He’s younger than I thought he was going to be.”

  He did look young. And completely clueless.

  Avery sighed. “You want to go talk to him, or should I?”

  “You go,” Melba said. “He’ll enjoy talking to you more than he will this old bag of bones.”

  Avery rolled her eyes. Melba was in her seventies, but she looked ten years younger. “Whatever, Melba. You know you’re still a fox.”

  Melba huffed a laugh. “Maybe, but even I can’t compete with those mile-long legs of yours. You go introduce yourself and help the poor fella out.” She leaned down and put Jasper on the ground, tugging him toward home. After a few steps, she turned back. “But go easy on him, Avery. Not everybody is a child of this island like you are. Don’t make him feel dumb for what he doesn’t know.”

  Avery waved at Melba and nodded her understanding as she crossed the street and approached the new guy. She paused at the end of his driveway, setting her grocery bags on the ground before pushing her hands into the back pockets of her cutoffs. “Hey,” she called out. She lifted her sunglasses and slid them back onto her head.

  The man turned, the sheet of plywood he’d been holding sliding to the porch at his feet. “Hello.” His voice was low and mellow, but Avery wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anyone look quite so uncomfortable in his own skin. He shifted, looking at his feet for a long moment before raising his eyes back to her.

  Avery looked at the sky, clear and brilliant blue, overhead. “You, uh, expecting a storm?”

  “There’s a hurricane,” the man said, a hint of irritation in his voice. “I know it’s still a few days out, but with work, I just . . .” His words trailed off. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Avery fought to hide her grin. She schooled her features into something a little more neutral. She hoped. “Like what?”

  “Like you’re about to tell me something that’s going to make me feel like an idiot.”

  Avery bit her lip. “Sorry. I’m not trying to make you feel stupid. I promise. Where are you from?”

  The man’s shoulders rose and fell. “Chicago.”

  Avery stepped a little closer. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I wouldn’t have the first clue how to handle a Chicago snowstorm. I’ve heard they’re brutal.”

  “Not as brutal as hurricanes,” he said, his tone indignant.

  Avery squelched a laugh. He seemed so affronted when all they were talking about was the weather. She climbed the porch steps to where he stood, trying not to flinch when she noticed a sand dollar sitting on the porch railing, a faint yellow stain against the white paint just barely visible underneath. Poor guy. He probably had no idea he’d killed the thing when he’d brought it home.

  The guy was super nerdy up close. His pants were neatly pressed, and he wore a collared shirt with all the buttons done up, but no tie. His sandy blond hair was perfectly parted and smoothed to the side, and he wore glasses that would maybe feel hipster with the right outfit, but on this guy, they just felt old school. And yet, he was still kind of adorable.

  Avery moved to the window. “Look,” she said, pointing to the bolt holes that lined the window frame. “See these here? There are hurricane panels in the shed out back that are pre-fitted to the windows. The bolts on them screw all around the frame. It’s easier than plywood.”

  “Oh. Got it. Thanks for pointing that out.”

  “Sure. My dad built this house.” Avery shrugged. “Actually, he built most of the houses around here. I’m sorry the realtor didn’t show you the panels. They normally do. Especially for people who move in during hurricane season.”

  “I never actually met the realtor,” the man said. “I bought the place sight unseen.”

  “Wow. That’s brave.”

  “It’s closer to the water than I thought it was.”

  Avery glanced toward his back yard. Had he seriously bought oceanfront property without knowing? “Hard to get much closer.”

  “My sister picked it out.” He leaned against the house, his shoulders slumped. “She only showed me the pictures of the inside and told me it was downtown. Close to the hospital. Obviously, I shouldn’t have believed her.”

  This guy’s story just kept getting better and better. “Well,” Avery said, a laugh floating through her words, “welcome to Sullivan’s Island.”

  “Thanks.”

  Avery held out her hand. “I’m Avery.”

  “David Daniels,” he said. His handshake was firm—that was good, at least—and he offered the tiniest of smiles. He was definitely adorable. In a nerdy little brother sort of way.

  “You’re a doctor over at the hospital?”

  “Yes,” David said. “In the ER.”

  Avery nodded. “I’ve got a few friends who work there. You’re a new resident?” If he was, he was sitting on family money, because no resident she knew could afford to buy oceanfront on Sullivan’s.

  “No, actually. I just finished my residency at Northwestern up in Chicago. This is more permanent.”

  Avery froze. The guy couldn’t be a day over twenty-five. “What, did you start medical school when you were sixteen?”

  A blush c
rept up his cheeks and he coughed into his fist before mumbling something Avery almost couldn’t hear. “Something like that.”

  “For real?” Avery asked.

  David sighed, like he’d answered the question a million times before. “College at sixteen, med school at nineteen. I’m twenty-seven now. And yes, I’m old enough to practice medicine, I did pass all of the same exams every other doctor takes, and no, I’ve never watched Doogie Howser.”

  “Sorry. I bet you get that a lot, huh?”

  He shrugged dismissively. “I’m used to it.”

  “Do you like it?” Avery owed the guy a subject change. “The job?”

  “The job, yes. But I’m not sure I would have taken it if I’d known hurricanes were part of the deal.” David tossed a nervous glance toward the ocean.

  Avery grinned. “Listen. We haven’t had a major storm hit Charleston since Hugo, and that was before I was born. It seems like there’s always something brewing off the coast during hurricane season, but odds are against anything hitting us head on. I think what’s out there now isn’t even a hurricane yet. It’s just a tropical storm. It’s nothing to worry about.”

  David ran a hand across his forehead, then back through his hair, mussing his perfect part. “Really?”

  “Most of the people on this stretch of the island have lived here a long time. When you see us getting our houses ready? That’s your clue to do the same.”

  “Do people evacuate?”

  Avery shrugged. “Yeah. Sometimes. When we have to.”

  “I don’t understand why anyone would voluntarily live in a place that a hurricane could destroy in minutes.”

  “It’s a small price to pay for living in paradise. Honestly, I’d rather take my chances with hurricanes than deal with snow every winter.” Avery moved to the stairs. “I gotta get my groceries inside, but I live right next door if you need me.” She pointed to her house. “The one on that side. With the blue door.”

  She was halfway down the steps when David spoke again.

  “Is it always this hot?” he called.

  When she reached the gravel path at the foot of his porch, she turned and smirked. “Nah, it’s only June. It’ll be hotter in August.”

  She thought she heard him groan, which was totally understandable. Charleston summers were brutal even for people born and raised in the South.

  She’d only made it a few more steps before he called out to her again.

  “Avery, wait.”

  Avery liked the way he said her name—with three distinct syllables. A-va-ree. Her Southern friends mostly mushed her name into two. A-vree. She turned around.

  “I’m sure you can tell I feel a little out of my element. Is there anything else I need to know about the island? About Charleston, in general?”

  Avery smiled. At least he was trying. “If you want good pizza, try the Obstinate Daughter. Kinda touristy, so get it to go if you want to avoid the crowds. The Co-Op over on Middle Street has great coffee, and groceries if all you need are the basics. I can walk it in half an hour.” Avery racked her brain. What else could she tell him? “The next time you have a free morning, go take a walking tour of downtown. It’ll hit all the historic high points and teach you the basics about the city, which are worth knowing if you’re going to call this place home.”

  Of all the adorable things, David had pulled a little notepad out of his pocket and was scribbling down notes as she talked. “Got it. Anything else?”

  Avery thought for a second. “Um, don’t kill the sand dollars?”

  David’s eyebrows went up, his gaze landing on the sand dollar sitting on his porch railing. “What?”

  “If they have purple fuzz on the bottom, they’re still alive. It’s technically against the law to bring them home, but you shouldn’t want to anyway. If they’re still living, they’ll die quick and then they’ll smell like death.” Avery crossed back to his porch, taking the steps two at a time. “See?” She picked up the sand dollar. “The yellow stain here says this one was alive when it hit the porch. It’s a toxin they release when they’re handled, harmless to humans, but a good indicator that it’s alive and shouldn’t leave the water.”

  “Well that sucks,” David said. “I killed it.”

  “Don’t feel bad. They’re all over the beach so it happens a lot. But now you know, right?”

  “You grew up here?” David asked.

  “Yep. Born in your hospital and raised right here on the island.”

  “I guess that’s a good reason to trust you as an authority on marine life.”

  Avery smiled. “That, and I’m also the education coordinator at the Charleston Aquarium.”

  David sank onto his porch steps and dropped his head into his hands. “Which makes you doubly qualified to make me feel like an idiot.”

  “I told you not to feel bad! Seriously. I promise you’re not the first person to make the same mistake.”

  David cupped his hands around his knees. “Any other innocent crustaceans you need to warn me not to kill?”

  “I mean, unless you’re the kind of guy that goes around pulling legs off of crabs . . . ”

  “Not that guy,” David said. “I promise.”

  “Then I think we’re safe to let you walk the beaches unchaperoned.” Avery moved toward her groceries, still sitting on David’s driveway, but then turned back. Why was she having such a hard time leaving? “You should come down to the aquarium some time. I’ll give you a free tour. Just to make sure you aren’t an actual threat.”

  “Clearly I need the education,” he said, his expression serious, though Avery detected a lightness in his tone that said he wasn’t all that put out by her ribbing.

  “See you around, Dave,” Avery said, this time leaving his porch for good.

  “It’s David, actually. Not Dave.”

  Avery turned to face him, taking a few backward steps toward her house. She grinned, not even a little surprised that a guy as buttoned up as he was didn’t want a nickname like Dave. “Okay.”

  “And you’ll tell me, right? If I need to worry about the hurricane?”

  Ha. Avery and every newscaster in all of Charleston. “I’ll definitely let you know.”

  ***

  Melba was sitting in a rocking chair on Avery’s front porch when she finally made it home, Jasper sitting contentedly in her lap. “Well?” she asked, not even bothering to offer a greeting.

  “Well, what?” Avery said.

  “Did you get the dirt on the new guy?”

  “What dirt? Seriously, Melba. Why does it have to be dirt? You watch too many soap operas.”

  “I’m just curious, that’s all,” she said, though she didn’t sound at all defensive. Melba was nothing if not self-aware. “A new guy moved in on my street. I’m entitled to know a little bit about him.”

  Avery unlocked her front door. “I don’t know anything more than you do. He works at MUSC. He’s from Chicago. He’s super smart, apparently, some sort of child prodigy who went to college at sixteen, but otherwise, he seems like a pretty normal guy.”

  “Who knows nothing about hurricanes or living at the beach.”

  “You’re the one who told me to go easy on him,” Avery said. “Not everyone has our good fortune.” That was maybe an understatement. Avery knew how lucky she was. The only reason she could manage to live beachfront right outside of Charleston was because her family had owned land on Sullivan’s Island for more than a century. Her house had belonged to her grandmother, then to her parents, and now it was hers. Fully paid for, which was good because the taxes alone almost felt like a mortgage payment.

  “True enough,” Melba said, standing up from the rocker. “Hey, did I see that old boyfriend of yours hanging around here the other day?”

  Avery tensed. Battling about Tucker was not something she currently felt up to. “It’s not a big deal, Melba. He just stopped by to say hello.”

  “Avery Grace, don’t make me call your mama. That boy is trouble and
you know it.”

  Avery was tempted to roll her eyes, but she couldn’t exactly fault Melba her reaction. When Tucker had broken Avery’s heart a year before in the worst possible way, Melba had been her soft place to land. Avery had cried more than a few tears curled up on Melba’s couch, Jasper snuggled beside her.

  “It’s not like that,” Avery said. “We’ve been texting a little, just here and there, and he said he was in the neighborhood, so he stopped by. It’s not a big deal.”

  Melba snorted. “In the neighborhood? Who else does he know that lives on the island? Nobody drives out here unless they’re visiting here. You mark my words, sweetheart, he’s after something.”

  Avery stepped to Melba’s side and kissed the side of her head, giving her shoulders an affectionate squeeze. “Thanks for looking out for me, Mel. I promise he was just being nice, but I’ll be careful. You don’t need to worry about me.” Even as Avery placated Melba, a small niggling of doubt tickled the back of her mind. It had been strange when Tucker texted her a few weeks before, and even stranger when he’d shown up at her house all full of charm and compliments. She hadn’t seen him in almost a year. For him to drop in unannounced on a Sunday afternoon was . . . unexpected. If he wanted to see her, why hadn’t he called? Or even just texted? His only explanation had been that he’d been in the neighborhood and wanted to say hi.

  Avery knew Tucker’s facial expressions, though. And the intensity in his eyes had said a lot more than just hi.

  Avery pushed her door open and set her groceries on the floor inside. “You want to come in?” she asked Melba. “I’m cooking. You can eat with me if you want.”

  “Naw, it’s too hot for cooking. Jasper and I will have sandwiches for dinner and then wine for dessert.”

  “Please don’t give your dog wine, Melba.”

  Melba left Avery’s porch, raising a hand and waving her fingers over her shoulder without turning back. “What you don’t know doesn’t hurt you,” she sing-songed as she walked away.

  Avery shook her head, finally pushing into the cool interior of her home. Most of the year, she hardly needed to use the central heating and air. The temperatures stayed mild enough she could open her windows to the ocean breeze and count herself lucky that her power bill was so low. But once June hit, she sealed her house up tight and relished in the cold, crisp glory of a fully air-conditioned home. She loved her Southern heritage. But full summer heat and humidity without air conditioning? No amount of Southern pride was worth that nonsense.