Always by Deb Stover

turned his life topsy-turvy. Mrs. Johnson had dragged herself away from Precious long enough to play for the women's choir from the First–and only–Congregational Church.  
          As the singers lapsed into their third number, Gordon stifled a yawn and turned his attention back to Taylor. Her eyes widened and their gazes held. She'd been watching him, too. Busted . Well, he was as guilty as she.
          Her lips curved in a knowing smile, as potent as a gut punch. Like the teenager he once was, his body sprang to life. He seemed predisposed to a state of constant arousal where Taylor Bowen was concerned.
          His libido had no common sense whatsoever, but he sure as hell did–or better. Just because he couldn't keep his hormones in check around her didn't mean he had to follow through with his impulses. Though the thought of following through elevated the state of his male anatomy to dire and dangerous.
          Okay, desperate.
          Other than Meghan, a fairly long-term relationship after he'd returned from college to set up his practice, Gordon's love life hadn't amounted to much. He'd been unable to commit himself to marriage, and that's what she'd wanted. Now married to the high school football coach, Meghan had it all with one child and another on the way.  
          Then he'd proposed to Sue, who'd laughed and told him she wasn't into incest. Okay, so they weren't related, but she was right–any relationship beyond friendship would've been too weird for words. After that, Gordon had resumed his life as a semi-recluse and veterinarian.  
          And the reason he hadn't been able to commit to Meghan sat in the front row of City Hall. Taylor . He shifted on the hard chair, his gaze still fixed on her. She licked her lips and he bit his own, remembering how she'd tasted when he grabbed and kissed her in his office last week.
           Damn.
          The high school band filed into the hall at the rear and the choir members left the stage. Gordon forced his attention away from Taylor. The band marched up the center aisle playing something Gordon couldn't even begin to identify, and he felt certain no one else could either. They paused in front of the riser, facing the audience, and completed their number. The crowd applauded and the mayor took the podium again.  
          "Dr. Bowen, on behalf of all the citizens of Digby, Colorado," he smiled like he was up for re-election, "welcome home."
           Home ? Taylor's throat convulsed and her belly churned. The mayor called her to the stage and she allowed her gaze to sweep the crowd as she stood at his side. So many familiar faces. Amazing, considering how long she'd been gone. A strange ache commenced in her heart. This whole mess was something like finding a long lost sweater and trying it on to learn it still fit.
          But Digby didn't fit–rather, she didn't fit.
          The mayor pumped her hand and stepped aside, indicating she should take the microphone. Drawing a deep breath, she slipped behind the podium and lowered the microphone to her level.
          "Thank you all for the wonderful welcome." She resisted the word home, though it lingered in her mind, refusing to be completely banished despite her best efforts. All eyes looked at her expectantly, and she suddenly realized she couldn't deny her roots. These people knew her, and they liked being able to claim her as one of their own. After all, she'd been born and raised here. Fallen in love here...
          "When I was a little girl, we had a doctor," she continued. "I imagine most of you remember Dr. Eddington." Many heads nodded and a murmur swept through the crowd. "When I was nine, he treated me for a broken collarbone after I went over the handlebars of my bike. That was when I decided to become a doctor."
          All true. A deluge of memories flooded her and she drew another fortifying breath. Public speaking was bad