Healing My Heart

by Barbra Campbell

  Healing My Heart

  Barbra Campbell

  Copyright © 2019 Barbra Campbell

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction.

  Cover design by Hans Campbell

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  https://BarbraCampbell.com

  Chapter 1

  Romy

  “Can you scoot closer together, maybe put your arms around each other,” the photographer said.

  I wouldn't mind putting my arm around Cory. He wasn't just a racquetball pro, evidenced by winning the tournament. He was sinfully gorgeous and his beard made my heart whimper. It's a good thing men and women didn't compete because there's no way I could have focused on the match if he was my opponent.

  Downplaying my smile and stepping closer, I exchanged my gold medal to my other hand. I slid an arm around Cory’s waist when his arm wrapped around my shoulder and practically sank into him. The bobble my legs did was easily played off as a misstep or perhaps exhaustion from taking myself through the tournament bracket to the single line for the champion’s position.

  He leaned his head toward me and said, “Good job.”

  His deep voice was strangely reassuring and sincere.

  The squeeze of his fingers around my shoulder was a better prize than the medal I held. Dark green eyes, full beard, muscles, and elaborate ink coloring his forearms had me certain he was the actual prize.

  I tried to hide my fantasy with, “Good job to you, too,” but my compliment sounded forced.

  My attention was too scattered, taking in everything about Cory. The heat radiating from his arm caught more than my attention. Every nerve ending in my body was on high alert. He adjusted his stance and the side of our bodies pressed together. Excitement swirled, settling low in my belly. No doubt my cheeks would be flushed in the photograph but since we were being documented as champions of the Jingle Ball tournament it would simply appear my last opponent had given me a run for my money.

  How the hell did our bodies fit together so well? I felt kind of mischievous for enjoying his touch and hoped the photographer would request more photos: I blinked, Cory had a stupid smile, the lighting was wrong…anything that would require us to stand there longer. Of course, Cory didn't have a stupid smile. It seemed natural and heart-meltingly perfect.

  The photographer held the camera in front of his chest as he scanned the pictures and thanked us.

  The normal reaction of strangers would be to go our separate ways, but I’d melted into him and spent an unjustified second or more noting the firmness of his thigh against my leg, the hardness of his waist under my fingers, and the slight brush of his hand over my shoulder making me suspect I wasn't the only one lost in the moment.

  The photographer glanced from his camera. He grinned. “I got what I need. You can go.”

  Cory angled his body in front of mine and held me close with both arms wrapped around my shoulders. “Hope to see you around some more.”

  I should have found a stranger’s embrace awkward, but the vein of chemistry running between us offered understanding. I'd craned my neck to look at him and my arms had readily wrapped around his hard body. His hard, sweaty body. It's a good thing we were holding each other because our contact liquefied me.

  Very few people had stayed for the award ceremony. Fewer stayed for the photographs, but two preteen girls walked up and tapped Cory on the arm, breaking whatever was happening between us. Probably just in the nick of time.

  “Can we get your autograph?” The young girls were as drawn to him as I was.

  Was I reading too much into our celebration? He could simply be a hugging type of guy? I freaking hoped so as long as his hugs were limited to me, and didn’t stop at hugs.

  He let go of me, tousled the hair one of the girls, and both of them broke out in giggles. Signing their folded paper programs, he nodded my direction. “She's the women's champion, better get her autograph, too. You might be competing against her someday.”

  “Okay,” the taller girl said half-heartedly, and Cory passed the papers and pen to me.

  With both signatures, the girls ran off amidst squeals, leaving me alone with Cory.

  I sat on the bench and packed my racquet and balls into my bag. Cory did the same, and despite plenty of available bench space his leg brushed against mine.

  The contact shot electricity through my body. Dating wasn’t on the top of my list of things to do since settling in a new town, but my priorities were rapidly realigning.

  We were the only two people left. No one had come with Cory. I glanced at his hands, no ring, although he might take jewelry off while he played. Nothing worse than having a jammed or broken finger swell, and getting a ring cut off. It had happened to one of my friends.

  Wanting to give a more context to my attraction to Cory, I said, “I saw part of your last match. You’re a risk-taker, and I didn't see you second-guess yourself a single time. I bet you have a lot of these medals.”

  Cory quirked side of his mouth. “I’ve won my share but I donate them to the kids’ programs. They reuse them.”

  “Do you have kids who play?” Time for a fishing trip to haul in whatever intel I could.

  “None of my own.”

  As the new single girl in town, what did I have to lose? I’d moved around enough growing up to know if I didn't put myself out there I would fade into the background. “Is there a Mrs. Racquetball Champion?”

  He laughed and I'm pretty sure the rumble woke some Primal Beast inside of me. Reaching his arm around me again, he said, “Only you.”

  Holy fuck. My eyeballs might have popped out of my head, because everything went black for a second. I fought to gather myself, but wanted to drop to one knee and ask him to make it a real offer. What the hell was wrong? I didn’t date strangers, much less marry them.

  He pulled his arm away from me, probably confused by what would have appeared outwardly as a frozen reaction. “If there was a Mrs., I imagine she would kick my ass for sitting this close to you.”

  The ability to breathe abandoned me. I was plenty familiar with flirting, but I wasn’t used to the draw he had on me. His hand rested on my thigh. When my finger brushed his I inhaled sharply.

  Far from being the needy type, I questioned why my body wanted to dispatch with the get-to-know-you process of dating and go straight to bed with him. I was desperate for a distraction. “Well, I'd hate to see you go home empty-handed.” I grabbed a Sharpie the organizer had left and drew a heart on my winning racquetball.

  Cory intently watched.

  “Here, this can be your special trophy.”

  “Commemorating my win or getting to meet you?” he asked.

  Heat flushed through my body. It took a strong guy to date me because of my bold personality. Cory not only met that, but conquered me in a strange way I’d never experienced, leaving me speechless for once.

  He took the ball, admired it, then set it on the bench. He retrieved his phone from his bag and turned it on. Several alerts warned of how much he’d missed. Popular guy.

  “Crap.” He shoved everything in his bag. “I forgot about a meeting.”

  “Don't forget your trophy.”

  He was already standing, grabbed the ball, and took off, keeping it in his hand.

  “Wait.”

  “Sorry, I have to run. I know where to find you, Romy.”

  Hope slumped out of my body. Sure, we could run into each other again, but I’d had my sights on some time much sooner. But he’d noticed my name. All he had to do was read it off the brackets or listen during the awards, but the gesture sent ripples of excitement through me.

  Chapter 2

  Cory


  I drew the line at bleaching my beard. Letting Jessi flock my facial hair like I was a damn Christmas tree was bad enough, but I only had touches of gray hair, not enough to pull off Santa Claus. Wearing a fake beard and mustache didn’t work since I already had my own.

  It was a small concession for playing Santa, kids were my weakness.

  Holding a washcloth over the upper part of my face, I waited for the Santa-fication to finish.

  Jessi’s fingers ran through my beard.

  “Hey.” I grabbed her wrist, halting the gesture while I whipped the cloth from my face.

  “Have to make sure I did a good job.” She smiled sweetly, wiggling her wrist out of my grip. “I thought you’d like your beard covered in white.”

  “Knock it off. This is for the kids.”

  “The party doesn’t start for thirty minutes.” She lowered a hand and I noticed she was reaching for me, or more specifically my crotch.

  I deflected her arm. “Yeah, and I have to finish suiting up.”

  She raised her brows.

  I jerked the can of hair color from her and yanked the towel from around my shoulders. “Go find someone else to help. And seriously, the one date we had is over.”

  “Doesn’t Santa realize what a good girl I was?” She pulled off a seriously coy expression, but it only served to anger me.

  “I’m not kidding. It’s not going to work between us.” I walked away with her glare burning into my back. Jessi had been my big mistake. Pressure to do more with my life than be the best pediatric surgeon around had led me to go on dates my friends suggested. Jessi was front and center when I agreed to double date a few weeks prior. Like every other date my well-intended friends planned, I cut it off after dinner. She didn’t. She continued to hit on me. I should have known better than to go out with someone from the hospital.

  Double checking that I locked the door to the bathroom, I disrobed and added the fake Santa belly before putting the costume on.

  A forty-three-year-old workaholic didn’t stand a chance against a woman like her. I’d have been better off sticking with myself because one date with Jessi had her sticking to me. She’d probably threatened the other nurses to stay away from me. For that matter she might have told them we were a thing. Anyone who paid attention would be fully aware of my lack of interest though.

  Thankfully I didn’t care about any reputation other than my medical skills. People considered me gruff because I didn’t talk much, mostly kept to myself, and only went after what I really wanted.

  Except where the kids were concerned. My patients were everything. Everywhere I’d worked, I’d gotten shit about my soft side. It also earned me respect. Even when I was decked out in red and white. I tightened the belt around my ridiculous waistline.

  I tucked my regular clothes into my duffle bag and headed to the ballroom where the hospital staff Christmas party was being held. Kids were much simpler than women.

  My laser-focused drive to save as many children as possible had been easy. Finding a way to incorporate a woman into my life was trickier. In contrast to my disdain for Jessi, Romy from the rec center had rocked my world. But I hesitated to let myself think she could be anything more than a distraction. Why had I told her I’d find her? Already a sign I would lose focus.

  Setting up my Santa chair and bag of goodies, I couldn’t shake Romy from my mind. I’d never seen her practicing before but when the photographer had us pose together for the champion’s picture, my skin practically set on fire when she wrapped her arm around me.

  I shook the memory from my mind. Today was about fun and families and the magic of the holiday season, although early since the hospital always celebrated a couple of weeks out to keep from interfering with family gatherings.

  Early birds began trickling in and the kids had no trouble identifying the big guy in the red suit as the man of the hour. Finding it easier and more enjoyable to sit in my chair and entertain the kids than to otherwise avoid Jessi, I welcomed the charade.

  “Who’s first?” The line quickly built and I barely had time to see who’d shown up.

  A kid’s untied shoe gave me a second to take a drink of my water and scan the room. My heart stopped. I did a double take. Romy was standing across the room, alone.

  She didn’t work at the hospital which meant she must be dating one of the staff members. I ran our brief conversation through my mind. She’d asked about my kids and wife, and drew the heart on the racquetball, the trophy. Had she really been concerned about me having a trophy? Ridiculous. Trophies didn’t come with hearts.

  I waited to see who would claim her. How could the one woman who stirred my soul already be taken. A sure sign I should focus on my work. Kids needed saving, everything else was extra.

  Romy looked around the room, her eyes trailing past me without so much as a flinch of recognition. I debated waving, but a parent plopped a squirmy toddler into my lap. I instinctively cradled the kiddo and pointed at his parents holding the camera so they could snap the picture.

  Of course, Romy didn’t recognize me. She’d seen me in a tank top and shorts as opposed to my full body coverage complete with padded belly, hat, and colored facial hair.

  Kid after kid passed over my lap, touted their Christmas wishes, smiled for the photo and scooted on. Normally their wishes humored me, but I couldn’t recall what any one of the kids had asked for once Romy entered the room.

  I tried to push her from my mind, but jeans and a fitted blouse looked as good on her as her tank top and shorts. Given a choice, I’d like to find out how she fared naked, but interfering in a relationship wasn’t my style.

  When I glanced up from cradling a tiny sleeping baby, Romy was gone. The photo was fast, and I frantically searched the room. Found her talking to a couple of nurses and one of our HR ladies, no sign of a boyfriend yet. Or maybe it was a girlfriend. Had I misread the way she wrapped her arm around my waist, the way she sank into me, or the sadness that flickered over her face when I remembered my meeting and had to rush away.

  Chapter 3

  Romy

  My job didn’t start for a few more days, but the HR lady had invited me to the hospital staff Christmas party, said it would be a fun way to meet other employees. She offered to help make introductions. Not like I had anything else to do.

  And I was a sucker for white elephant gift swaps. I always gifted some outlandish item I couldn’t believe people made, or bought. This year, I was giving a Licky Tongue cat brush.

  The nurses from my future department welcomed me with open arms and directed me to a circle of chairs where the adults were doing the gift swap while the teens gathered the children for the kids’ swap in a different circle. Melissa, one of the nurses, updated me on general gossip and all of the eligible bachelors since being a single woman in her late twenties was obviously a problem to solve.

  We held off the gift swap a minute while Santa finished a family picture with four kids. Nice of them to include Santa in the swap. Was it a financial decision that drove people to want to play Santa? It took a certain kind of person to put themselves through the abuse of kids crawling all over them especially when there was always some cold or flu going around as evidenced by hospital visits. Or maybe I only saw the bad end of illnesses in the hospital and it biased me toward believing everyone was going to end up with something.

  “Ho-Ho-Ho,” a deep voice bellowed, drawing my attention away from the idle chatter.

  Like the parting of the Red Sea, everyone split to either side, choosing seats as Santa made his way into the circle of chairs. My attention casually fell on jolly guest. Not the average old guy, a much younger Santa. I froze. Not just any guy. Cory. What? There wasn’t a lot to go on, but his eyes, those incredibly soulful eyes could only belong to him. Mr. Sexy Racquetball Champion also doubled as the local Santa? Was there anything imperfect about him? Anything to pay the bills, I supposed. Winning the racquetball tournament gave us bragging rights and a medal, no cash.

&nb
sp; “Ha!” An elbow to my side brought me back to the moment. Melissa said, “You know a guy’s hot when even a Santa suit can’t hold back his sex appeal. It takes everything I have not to sit on his lap and whisper my fantasies to him.”

  “Do you know—” An announcement about how the swap worked cut my question off.

  Cory’s gaze landed on me. The rules faded into oblivion. My pulse raced uncontrollably and excitement shot through me. He said he’d find me, but I’d assumed he intended to camp out at the rec center. It’s what I’d planned to do.

  The moderator broke into our moment by stepping in front of Santa, offering the bag of numbers for him to draw first. She made her way around offering the bag to each person.

  I drew number twenty-three. The highest number? I’d select last.

  The group was feisty, a lot of stealing, and other people brought as crazy of gifts as I had. I would definitely fit in. The type of people who worked hard but played harder. Whether it was work, exercise, or pure fun, that was me.

  The game was generally the most entertaining part of any party, but I found myself willing it to end. I had to talk to Santa before he was trapped in his chair again. But if I couldn’t find any other time to talk to him, I might embarrass myself by getting in line to sit on his lap.

  Cory opened my gift. The confusion on his face was priceless while several adults broke into fits of laughter clearly familiar with the item.

  “Is this real?” he asked.

  The obnoxious woman in the oddly skimpy dress blurted out. “To help you lick the kitty.”

  The group collectively grumbled. Some might have enjoyed the pun, but others failed to enjoy her humor.

  Cory shook his head and the hostess called out, “Number twenty-three.”

  “Me.” What to do? I didn’t have a cat and I was far more interested in the cocoa mug set or fuzzy socks, but taking the tongue from Cory served two purposes: the obvious chance to be close to him again, and the chance to relieve him of a gift he clearly had no interest in.