Page 14 of Top Shelf

Solvik waits in Sweden, and Midsummer waits with it.

And both await a wife I do not have.

Chapter three

Heidi

“Before anyone asks, I’m fine.”

I step through the front doors of the Moreno Clinic, trying to regain control of my morning. No one needs to know I’ve been hit by an SUV, patronized by a man in Louis Vuitton, and transported three blocks on the back of Viktor Karlsson’s motorcycle named Priscilla.

Sloane looks up from behind the reception desk, her expression calm enough that I immediately suspect she’s never once lost a parking ticket or misplaced her car keys. Her dark hair is perfectly parted and slicked back, and the pen in her hand stills.

Her hazel eyes move over me with efficiency, taking in my helmet hair and today’s outfit of choice, along with the faint seatbelt mark beginning to bloom near my collarbone.

“Are you bleeding?”

“No.”

“Dizzy?”

“No.”

“Likely to vomit on the reception rug?”

“Hopefully not.”

She purses her lips, considering me, then her eyes dart down to my top. “You have coffee on your sleeve.”

“So I’ve been told. By a Swedish man who thinks it looks like Finland.”

Her eyebrows tick up, which for Sloane, counts as a theatrical reaction. “Was he accurate?”

“Annoyingly.”

She hums, then slides a paper cup of water across the desk, followed by a folded paper towel. “Drink this and dab a little on that coffee stain on your sleeve. Then you’re due in conference room two.”

I stare back at her, feeling the deep peace of being handled by a competent woman.

“You’re my favorite person in this building,” I say, taking a sip.

“I’ve worked here six weeks.”

“It’s a strong start.”

Her eyes crinkle, and I can’t tell if she thinks I’m amusing or a workplace hazard. I’ll take either, honestly. Sloane is the new receptionist at the Moreno Clinic, replacing Jenny, whose departure remains one of the clinic’s most satisfying legends.

Jenny made the catastrophic decision to involve herself in Carina and Reid Hutchison’s business, and while I’m not generally a woman who celebrates another woman’s downfall, Jenny did try to throw Carina—my best friend, my colleague, and the most brilliant orthopedic surgeon I know—under the bus simply because she fell in love with her former patient. And then got pregnant by him.

Where Jenny was vindictive, Sloane, by comparison, radiates the blessed energy of someone who stays out of other people’s shit when it doesn’t concern her.

I dip the paper towel into the water and swipe at the coffee stain. It does almost nothing, but Finland at least looks damp now. I’m sure Viktor would be pleased.

“Carina’s in with Dr. Moreno,” she says. “And Moreno is aware you were in a motor vehicle incident and that you’ve confirmed no immediate injuries.”

I stop dabbing. “I did?”

“Carina called you, and you texted me.”