A Fool's Gold Wedding - Susan Mallery Page 0,2

a lot of time and organization. She supposed she could ask Joaquin to help. And they could walk around town. What else? She could take him to see her aunt Montana’s service dogs and they could go out to the Castle Ranch and look at the horses. Or the goats. Although that might be too ordinary for a gifted surgeon. Maybe she could talk to her uncle Simon and get some ideas from him.

“I’ll put together a lesson plan,” she said. “Stuff for us to do every day between now and the wedding.”

Melissa grinned. “I’m sure he’ll love that.”

“He’d better. He’s messing with my summer vacation.”

* * *

JOAQUIN KINCAID KNEW he was out of options. He’d done what he was supposed to and it had gotten him exactly nowhere. Faced with the choice of giving up or making an end run, he’d decided on the latter, because giving up was never an option. He didn’t believe in it—not for himself or his patients. So here he was, wasting three weeks of his life in some ridiculous town on the off chance he could meet Simon Bradley and convince the man to admit Joaquin into his fellowship program.

Not an off chance, he reminded himself as he paced the length of the hotel room. He would make it happen. He had an in, after all. He was going to be spending time with a local resident who was related to Simon by marriage. Surely he could convince—he pulled the slip of paper out of his shirt pocket and glanced at it—Abby Hendrix to introduce him to her uncle. The meeting made sense—they were both surgeons specializing in trauma. Simon had gone even deeper, focusing on patients who were severely burned, a practice that had never been overly interesting to Joaquin until he’d lost one to her burns. He’d been more than capable of fixing her damaged heart and her ripped arteries, but in the end, her body had been unable to handle the burns. He’d been helpless to save her, a state of being he did not accept.

That had been a year ago and he still remembered everything about the moment when she’d died. He’d stood there, unable to intervene in any meaningful way. Two days later he’d applied for Dr. Bradley’s fellowship. A month after that, he’d had a preliminary interview and had been told he wasn’t a good match. Him!

He’d graduated summa cum laude from Stanford at the age of thirteen. He had three advanced degrees, wasting time until he was able to enter medical school at the age of seventeen. He was brilliant, dammit. How was it possible he hadn’t made it past the first round? He hadn’t even had the chance to meet Dr. Bradley. It had been an impossible situation and he didn’t accept that any more than he accepted feeling helpless.

He crossed to the window and stared out at Fool’s Gold. The day was sunny and warm. There were wide streets and lots of storefronts decorated with brightly colored flowers. To the east were mountains. He’d driven past a couple of vineyards on his way into town. Fool’s Gold was the consummate small town. Joaquin didn’t like small towns. Although he’d never been in one before, he didn’t like this one. He liked large urban areas with lots going on. Not that he did much more than work, but he liked knowing there was always the opportunity for him to go to a restaurant or a club or a museum. What did people do here?

He reminded himself that for the sake of his career he would have to pretend to be enthralled by the place. After all, his brother, Davis, seemed to love it. He and Melissa were getting married here, although that probably had more to do with the fact that Melissa had grown up in the area. At least he thought she had. He’d never much paid attention when his brother had talked about his fiancée. Not that he and Davis talked much these days. Or ever. There simply wasn’t that much to say. They had nothing in common—not that they ever had.

Joaquin had only met Melissa once or twice. He rarely went home for the holidays or other traditional family gatherings. He preferred to work. He told himself it was so other staff members could be with their families, but he knew in his heart he simply wasn’t that altruistic. The real reason was he didn’t like being around people very much. Not