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She rolled her eyes with a sigh and gathered her skirts in her hand, preparing to get down.
“Mercy!” someone called.
Gray and Mercy both turned toward the newcomer, though her smile was decidedly more welcoming than Gray’s frown.
A clean-shaven, tidy man with nary a wrinkle or gray hair came toward them, a grin stretching from ear to ear as he headed right for Mercy.
“Jamison,” she said, giving him a little wave.
He reached up for her, and she braced herself on his shoulders as he lowered her down, rather more slowly than was necessary. Gray scowled, his eyes narrowing when Mercy held onto the man’s arms for a moment. Gray rubbed his chest, his frown deepening at the sudden tightness there. Her cheeks blushed in that pretty way they were prone to do, and his stomach clenched as though he’d been hit.
He blew a breath out through his nose. Mercy was supposedly in danger. That was the whole reason for their situation, was it not? It didn’t seem prudent for her to go about giggling in random men’s arms. Not that he gave three figs on whom she bestowed those smiles. Wasn’t none of his business. Though it wouldn’t kill her to throw a few more in his direction.
To be fair, he didn’t exactly go around trying to coax a smile to her lips very often, either. Still, she was supposed to be his fiancée, and if this were a true pairing, he certainly wouldn’t stand by while another man held his fiancée in his arms.
So, he probably ought to do somethin’ about that. For appearance’s sake.
He sauntered up to them, standing much closer to Mercy than was socially polite, and waited silently for them to acknowledge his presence. It took longer than he liked.
The other man finally glanced up at him in surprise, and Mercy’s flushed cheeks deepened into a darker shade of red.
“Oh, yes, sorry,” she said, more flustered than he had ever seen her. “Gray, this is Jamison Fairbanks. He’s the best physician in fifty miles.”
Jamison laughed and held out his hand. “I’m the only physician in fifty miles, but that’s kind of you to say, Miss Mercy. Most people around these parts just call me Doc,” he said to Gray.
Gray shook his hand with a grunt while he looked the man up and down, not seeing the appeal. Sure, some might find him attractive. He had that square jawline and broad shoulders that women seemed so fond of. And he dressed in a neat suit that screamed of East Coast money and education. What the man was doing this far west, Gray couldn’t fathom.
Mercy watched Gray with the air of someone who expected a snake to jump out of a bush, on edge and confused. But then, most people looked at him that way.
“Jamison, this is Mr. Gray—”
“Her fiancé,” Gray interjected, his own surprise at what he’d just said mirroring the others’. He didn’t know why he’d wanted to make sure the other man knew his relationship to Mercy. Especially since they didn’t truly have a relationship. And he had no desire to puzzle it out, either. Too late to pretend it hadn’t happened, though.
He cleared his throat, trying to cover the awkward moment. “Gray Woodson.”
Gray saw the exact moment his name registered in the other man’s mind, but he had to give him credit. Though he paused with a smile that was perhaps more strained than it had been, his demeanor didn’t waver.
“Welcome to town, Mr. Woodson.”
That was probably the first time anyone had ever said those words to him. And the doc even sounded like he meant it.
Gray swallowed past the lump in his throat. Damn dust. It was always choking him. Then he scowled when he caught the surprised raised eyebrows coming from Mercy’s direction.
“I can be polite,” he muttered to her, his voice much more gruff than usual.
“Well,” Doc said, “it seems congratulations are in order.”
“Thank you,” Mercy said, even more flustered than she’d been a moment before, if that were possible. “I haven’t had a chance to tell many people yet.”
“Of course. Well, I’m glad to be one of the first to hear your happy news,” he said, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m expecting a patient soon.” He tipped his hat to them, his gaze lingering on Mercy. “Good day.”
“Jamison, wait,” Mercy said, stepping forward to stop him. “Have you seen the sheriff around?” She nodded toward the seemingly deserted sheriff’s office.
“No, in fact I was thinking…” He stopped and grinned, nodding in the direction of the store. “Actually, I don’t think I’ll deprive Martha of the juiciest bit of gossip this town has seen in twenty years. Aside from your own,” he said with a wink. “Go on inside. She’s probably busting a gut waiting to talk to you.”
Mercy’s brow furrowed a bit, but she smiled. “All right, thank you.”
She watched the doc walk away before glancing back at Gray. “I wonder what all that means?”
