A Mistletoe Kiss for the Single Dad
Page 5
No. No, no, no.
Nick squeezed his eyes shut as new images flashed into his brain. Vicki’s last days in the oncology unit, her once strong, healthy body ravaged by ovarian cancer, her once bright eyes dimmed by pain and medication. She’d given up so much for him. He couldn’t forget his vow.
Not now.
He shoveled more food into his mouth and scowled at the TV.
Never mind Belle all but had a flashing neon sign above her head warning him to stay away. He was done with relationships. He was happy alone. He had his work, his patients, his son. And if sometimes it felt like something—someone—was missing, then that was his penance.
It was all good.
Is it, though?
Yes. Yes, it was. Because it had to be.
He devoured more food, staring at the news without really listening. His cell phone buzzed on the coffee table and the number for the lab at the Manistee hospital flashed on the caller ID. Nick hit redial then listened as the tech rattled off the results of Lisa’s bloodwork and lumbar puncture. Positive for bacterial meningitis. Manistee General would handle filing the necessary reports with the local Board of Health. He finished up with the tech then called Lisa’s parents.
“The ER doctor told us they’ve got Lisa on the highest does of antibiotics possible for her age.” Mrs. Merkel sniffled into the phone. “We homeschooled her because we thought she’d be safer. We just wanted to keep her secure and happy.”
Nick’s heart went out to them, the situation hitting far too close to home. “Don’t blame yourself. Lisa’s in the best possible hands. They’ll keep her well hydrated to bring down her fever and watch her closely. Lisa’s young and strong and otherwise healthy. There’s no reason she shouldn’t pull through this. Try and get some rest. She’ll need your support as she recovers.”
He went over what to expect for the next few days and answered all of their questions then ended the call.
Nick sat there a moment afterward. By then, the rest of his dinner was cold. Just as well, since he’d lost his appetite anyway. He took his dishes to the kitchen and cleaned up before going to bed and attempting to read a new medical journal he’d had sitting around for weeks, but his concentration was shot.
After half an hour he turned off the lights. Sleep eluded him, despite his fatigue. He closed his eyes, running through Lisa’s case and the work to be done at the clinic. Belle kept resurfacing in his head too, regardless of his wishes to the contrary.
Guilt gurgled inside him before he tamped it down fast.
This wasn’t about attraction. Belle was a challenge. That was all. The same as working on the clinic during the holiday season, which was still hard for Nick. The strange wave of excitement he felt around Belle was nothing more than relief at being knocked out of the rut his life had fallen into lately.
Isn’t it?
CHAPTER FOUR
THE NEXT MORNING Belle walked into the clinic at seven thirty sharp, happy to see she was the first one there this time. She set the travel cups of hot tea on the counter and put the bags slung over her arms on the floor. She’d brewed the tea herself at Aunt Marlene’s house on the new tea-maker she’d bought in Manistee. She’d also picked up some Christmas decorations for the clinic.
Belle flipped on the lights then stared at a large hole cut into the ceiling tiles and the “Wet Floor” hazard signs placed around a ladder extending into said hole. Yikes. Nick hadn’t mentioned anything wrong when she’d texted him yesterday, but something was obviously awry.
She’d just taken off her coat when a portly man in a navy blue hoodie and knit skullcap walked in.
“I’m sorry, sir, but we’re not open for business yet,” Belle said, startled.
“I ain’t sick, lady. I’m here to fix your pipes.” The guy hiked up his pants as he walked past her, then climbed the ladder to the ceiling, his top half disappearing into the hole.
Before she could ask him to explain exactly what the problem was, the front door opened again and Nick entered, looking as gorgeous as ever in clean jeans and T-shirt, despite the dark circles beneath his eyes. Juan Hernandez came in too, giving Belle a quick wave of greeting before talking with the plumber.
“Good morning.” Belle shoved a travel mug into Nick’s hand. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks,” he said, his tone dry. “You always did know how to make a guy feel better. Must be why you’re a doctor, huh?”
She ignored his sarcasm and unpacked the decorations instead. There were garlands and ornaments and red bows and sprigs of holly. She stacked them all neatly on the counter before reaching for the last bag and pulling out a box containing a small prelit Christmas tree. Minutes later she had it set up in the corner of the lobby. Belle plugged it in and fluffed the artificial branches before standing back to observe her work. Not exactly the North Pole, but the place looked a bit more festive already. She glanced at Nick, who was looking more Grinch-like by the second as he stared at the tree.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing. I just prefer real ones.”
“Well, when you buy the decorations, you can get what you like.” She walked around him to pull a clipboard and pen out of her tote bag. “I’m going to take inventory. What are you doing?”
“Well, besides checking in on my patient with meningitis and helping Juan where I can, I’ll be cleaning the carpets and prepping the walls for a fresh coat of paint.”
“Right.” Belle tucked her hair behind her ear. A patient with meningitis took a lot of time and attention. No wonder he looked tired today. Unwanted sympathy swelled inside her. Feeling sorry for Nick could lead to other feelings and that was a road best not traveled. “I’m sorry about your patient with meningitis.”
“Thank you. She’s doing better this morning. The antibiotics seem to be working, and her fever’s down. Hopefully, she’s out of the woods. And thanks for the tea.” He took a sip. “This is good. Not green, though.”
“Peppermint. Bought the leaves in town yesterday.”
“How very Santa of you.” Nick took off his coat and hung it up beside hers. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be a grouch earlier. You know how it is with an involved case.”
“I do.” Belle smiled, glad to have found some common ground again. “I’ve been getting updates on one of my patients back in California. A twenty-year-old woman I’d performed a breast augmentation on right before coming here. The case was complicated, to say the least.”
“Because of her age?” Nick leaned a hip against the reception desk and watched her over the rim of his cup. “Twenty’s awfully young for plastic surgery, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but this patient was born with severe breast asymmetry. Unfortunately, the condition only worsened following several botched procedures by previous, underqualified surgeons.” Anger fizzed in her bloodstream before she tamped it down. “Nothing makes me more furious than physicians taking a case simply because of greed. It’s unforgivable.”
“Wow.” Nick’s eyes widened. “I hope she sued.”
“She might. And I’d back her up all the way.” Belle exhaled, forcing her tense shoulders to relax. “Sorry. It’s a pet peeve of mine.”
“You were always a champion for the underdog.” Nick winked at her. “Glad to see that hasn’t changed.”
“Thanks.” At his unexpected compliment, heat prickled her cheeks. Dr. Reyes took her talents for granted. Then again, she didn’t need constant praise. Doing good work was its own reward. But it was still nice to be appreciated. She took a long swig of her own tea, the peppermint sparkling on her tongue and clearing her sinuses. “Normally a breast augmentation takes me forty minutes. This poor patient’s surgery took three hours because of all the scar tissue. One hundred and fifty stiches to close up the internal damage. She’s doing well now, though, thank goodness. Dr. Reyes says she’s very happy with the results.”
“Yes. Hired me straight out of residency.” Already off-kilter because of her unwanted attraction to the man before her, the mention of residency only discombobulated Belle further. Memories of her ill-fated trip to see Nick caused the words to catch in her throat. From his lack of reaction, he had no idea she’d gone to visit him. It was probably for the best. It didn’t matter now anyway. They were partners in this clinic venture. Nothing more. Never mind her racing pulse and wobbling knees whenever he was close. Belle headed down the hall, away from temptation. “Time to get to work.”
Ugh. Whatever hormones were causing her emotional awareness of him had better clear up fast. She bustled from exam room to exam room, checking drawers and opening cabinets, making notes on her clipboard, falling into an old routine. Organization had always been one of her strong suits. She remembered keeping things in line for Aunt Marlene when she’d worked here as a teenager.
From out in the hallway the sounds of the plumber working mixed with the lilt of Juan’s Spanish as he spoke to someone on the phone, presumably his wife based on the endearments he was using. Being bilingual in California was almost a given in her profession and though she did her best not to eavesdrop, Belle couldn’t help picking up Analia’s name and the words too expensive.
Her chest tightened. Given the little girl’s age and breathing impairments, it would be the optimal time to do the operation. Perhaps a diagnosis of OSP—obstructive sleep apnea—would help speed the insurance company’s approval. The condition was common enough in children with Crouzon’s and could be life-threatening if left untreated.
“Excuse me,” Nick said, scooting past her in the exam room, measuring tape in hand. “Trying to calculate out how much paint we’ll need to cover the walls.”
“Sure.” She met his gaze before he looked away.
“So, are you dating anyone?” he asked a moment later out of the blue.
“No,” she said, a bit taken aback. “I have my reasons for being single. And you?”
“Ditto.”
Conversation lagged and Belle had no intention of delving deeper into their personal lives. She had enough trouble keeping her thoughts from straying to Nick whenever he was around. She changed subjects instead. “Does Analia suffer from sleep apnea?”
“Yes. She uses a CPAP machine at night because of it.” Nick made a few measurements and jotted the numbers down before facing her once more. “Why?”
“If you diagnosed her with OSP, it might be enough to get her surgery approved by the insurance company.” Belle leaned back against the counter, her analytical mind working overtime. “Unless you’ve already tried that.”
“I haven’t, because Juan’s insurance disappeared along with his job. The Medicaid paperwork is a nightmare and with the holidays everything’s on hold.” He sighed. “She hasn’t even been evaluated by a plastic surgeon yet. I’d like to speed things along, but it is what it is.”
In her mind, Belle could already picture doing the LeFort III operation to fix little Analia’s deformities—and that wasn’t good. Dr. Reyes’s words echoed in her head again.
You went home to pay respects to your aunt, not revive her medical practice...
Belle needed to remind herself of her duties, no matter how much she wanted to help one small girl.
“Analia’s one of the bravest people I know,” Nick said, a spark of admiration flaring in his gaze. Belle had forgotten how expressive his eyes were. He could say more with a look than most people could say in three days. “There are days I wish I had a quarter of her chutzpah.”
Belle chuckled. She didn’t know Analia well, but even she’d seen the girl’s confidence and joy. “Agreed.”
A moment passed between them as they watched each other over the span of a few feet. Nick’s gaze flicked from Belle’s eyes to her lips and she felt his look like a physical caress. Then there was a loud thud in the hallway, followed by an equally loud curse from the plumber, and the spell was broken.
Nick tensed and turned away. “Don’t worry about Analia. We’ll get by fine on our own.”
Belle got the feeling he was talking about more than his patient. In fact, one of the first things she’d picked up on with new Nick was his isolation. Sure, he was polite enough around her, for the most part, but she sensed he kept a part of himself locked away these days. She wondered if it was because of his wife’s death but didn’t feel comfortable enough to ask.
Nick continued to take his measurements and she couldn’t help glancing his way before forcing her attention back to her clipboard. Being so close to him again was messing with her head. She should get things done here and move on before he noticed her staring.
“Maybe you’d like to stop by Aunt Marlene’s place and see if there’s anything you’d like to keep. I’m trying to clear the house out for the realtor, and whatever’s left over I’ll have to sell. It would make things easier if there was less to deal with. I could make dinner.”
Nick stopped and gave her a long look.
“What? It’s dinner. We get together, eat.”
“I know how dinner works, Belle,” he said, reaching past her to grab a paper towel from the dispenser. His arm brushed hers and a sudden urge to put her arms around him and hold him close and bury her face in his chest like she used to threatened to take Belle under. If she rose on tiptoe, she could kiss his mouth, his neck, nuzzle the spot below his ear that used to drive him wild...
Oh, God.
“Let me ask you something,” Nick said. “Why are you being so nice to me today?”
“Because we’ll be working together and we might as well make the best of it,” she said, her mind racing to come up with a plausible non-X-rated excuse. “And because it’s the holidays and because it’s rather lonely sitting in my aunt’s house alone.”
She hadn’t meant to confess the last part, but there it was. Her face flushed hotter.
A shadow crossed his handsome face before he sighed. “I’m not sure it’s good idea.”
Belle bristled under his rejection. “Whatever. I was only trying to be friendly. Forget it. Should’ve known better.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His posture stiffened.
“Exactly what I said. Nice doesn’t work with you, does it? I’ve been nice to you all my life and where did it get me? Nowhere.”
“Hey. Wait a minute.” Nick raked a hand through his dark hair and shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry things didn’t work out between us back in high school, but going our separate ways was best for both of us.”
Belle snorted. “Well, it certainly worked out for you, didn’t it? You couldn’t wait to get rid of me so you could move on.”
A small muscle pulsed in his cheek and his gaze burned into her. “You want to do this now? Fine. All I ever heard from you growing up was how important a career in medicine was to you, how it made you feel connected with your parents, how it helped you stay close to them. Being with me would’ve destroyed the future you were meant to have. You went off to California and never looked back. Tell me it’s not true, Belle.”
She wanted to tell him about her impromptu visit all those years ago but couldn’t bring herself to do it. The old knot of betrayal inside her tightened and once again she bit back her confession. Now wasn’t the time or the place. Belle walked out instead. “I need to finish decorating the lobby.”
* * *
Considering his focus was split between his work and the woman busy turning Marlene’s old clinic into a Christmas wonderland, Nick got a lot more accomplished than he’d expected. He’d calculated their paint needs and paid the plumber, even lent Juan a han
d and drove to the local hardware store to pick up enough new ceiling tiles to replace the stained ones. Then he’d checked in with his PA and with the hospital in Manistee on Lisa’s case. Finally, he’d moved on to patching holes in the drywall, taping off the trim, and getting everything ready for the next day’s painting. The manual labor helped work out the tightness in his muscles, though none of it kept his earlier conversation with Belle from replaying in his head on an endless loop.
He should’ve just let it go, but then she’d reacted so strangely to his question and now his interest was piqued. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said she’d talked constantly about her parents and making them proud when she was a kid. Nick got it. He did. Unexpected separations made people cling to what had been lost.
An annoying whisper started in his head.
Dammit. His situation with Vicki was different. Belle’s parents had died when she was a kid. She’d had no control over what had happened to them. He and Vicki had been adults. She’d given up a promising future to be with him and raise Connor together. And, while she’d never once mentioned regretting her choice, he felt guilty just the same. Maybe if she hadn’t married him, hadn’t had Connor and moved to Atlanta, she might still be alive.
Pressure built at the back of his skull and he slammed a lid on those ideas fast.
The physician in him knew it was baseless. Ovarian cancer was one of the most difficult to detect, often spreading to the abdomen and pelvis before it was ever detected. It was also often symptomless, so the victim didn’t know they had it until it was too late. Chances were high Vicki would’ve succumbed to the disease whether she’d married him or not.
But at least she could have achieved her goals in her career.
Dammit. His heart clenched. This wasn’t doing him any good at all. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Almost time to pick Connor up from hockey practice at school. The kid had been bouncing off the walls this morning. Today was Con’s last day before holiday break and he hadn’t stopped chattering about the Christmas tree lighting celebration on the town green later that night. It was a Bayside tradition.