by Cara Colter
“Fine. I’ll tell you, but just remember you asked for this.” She picked at the pristine bedding, rubbing her fingernail over the white material. “I’ve been feeling tired. A little nauseated at times to where my appetite just isn’t what it should be. I threw up this morning, but that’s because I crie—” She paused again, flushing.
She must have spent as restless a day in bed as he had. Guilt hit him. He didn’t want Abby to suffer because of him. He’d wanted to keep from hurting her, but he’d waited too late.
“You should have taken sick leave tonight.”
“Why? Nursing staff are almost always shorthanded as is.” She frowned. “Besides, it’s nothing much, really. I don’t feel myself, but that’s my own fault, isn’t it?” Glancing up at him, her weak smile almost knocked him to his knees. “I do realize that I shouldn’t have read so much into you asking me to the Christmas party, Dirk.”
“I’m sorry I gave you the impression we could be more than friends.” He wanted more than friendship. He wanted to be her lover. Without strings. Without having to worry about hurting her.
She lifted a shoulder in a mock shrug. “I should have known better.”
“Why should you have known better, Abby? I was sending mixed signals.” Saying one thing, wanting another. Why was he admitting this to her? Wasn’t he only sending more mixed signals by doing so?
“Were you?” Her brow lifted. “I hadn’t noticed.”
The way she said it, so sarcastic, bugged Dirk. Abby was happy, bubbly even. Not today. Nothing about this conversation felt right. Sure, he’d expected tonight to be awkward, but they’d done awkward before. Had done awkward for two months with only a break when he’d agreed to be Santa. This went beyond that.
Something was wrong with Abby.
He thought of the long hours she worked, of all the volunteer work he knew she did. No doubt she was spending the time she should be sleeping baking Christmas candies.
“You’re not getting enough rest.”
She pushed an empty IV stand against the wall, out of the way. “I slept eight hours each of the past couple of days. I’m getting plenty of rest, Dr. Kelley.”
His name came out with emphasis, coated with annoyance.
He followed her around the room. “Obviously your body needs more rest.”
“Obviously,” she agreed wryly, picking up a stray alcohol pad package from the counter. “But it’s choosing the wrong time of year to tucker out on me. I’ve got too much to do to get sick right now.”
“Like what? More spreading Christmas cheer stuff?”
Her eyes narrowed into an outright glare. “I like spreading Christmas cheer. If anything, volunteering makes me feel better about life. Not worse. Maybe you should try it sometime instead of all that bah-humbug stuff.”
“Maybe when you’re healthy, but at end of shift, you need to go home and get some sleep. Doctor’s orders.”
“This morning, after my shift ends, I’m picking up boxes of food to deliver to the poor.” Her expression dared him to say anything. “After I finish that, I’m delivering fruit baskets to a nearby nursing home.”
Boxes of food. Fruit baskets. Hadn’t she mentioned something earlier in the week about volunteering in a soup kitchen, too? Plus, she’d been doing all this baking.
“Aren’t you on schedule to work again tonight?” He knew she was. He knew each and every night they’d be working together. And the ones they wouldn’t.
“I’m due here at seven. For the record, you’re not my doctor and I didn’t ask for your advice, neither do I want it.”
He crossed his arms, pinning her beneath his gaze. “So when are you planning to sleep?”
“After I get the fruit baskets delivered.” She winced, confirming what he already suspected. She hadn’t left much time for sleep. “Normally, I can do this and more without so much as blinking my eyes. Getting called in to work on the night of the Christmas party threw off my rhythm a little, that’s all.”
She didn’t comment that he’d played a role in her rhythm being thrown off. She didn’t have to. She had to be on the verge of exhaustion and whether she wanted his advice or not, she was going to get it.
“No wonder you’re coming down with something,” he scolded. “Didn’t they teach you anything about taking care of yourself while you were in nursing school? Sleep is important.”
Said he who had slept very little over the past few weeks. How could he when every time he closed his eyes his dreams took him back to the morning he’d made love to Abby? A morning where he’d felt guilty for taking advantage of her goodness. After that, he’d done all he could to avoid her, to keep things completely professional between them. Abby hadn’t pushed, hadn’t asked anything of him. Not until she’d asked him to play Santa.
He should have said no.
None of this would be happening if he’d just said no.
“I do this every year,” she insisted, sounding more and more annoyed. “I just have a light virus or something. It’s no big deal and really none of your business.”
Dirk gritted his teeth, took a steadying breath, and managed to keep from pulling her into his arms to shake some sense into her.
“Yeah, well, you might try to kill yourself every year, but I’ve never been here to watch you run yourself ragged in the past,” he reminded her, moving in front of her, placing his fingers on her chin and lifting her face so she had to look at him. “I’m going with you.”
Her forehead wrinkled as her brows lifted high on her heart-shaped face. “Do what?” she scoffed, her hands going to her hips.
Yeah, that’s pretty much what Dirk was wondering, too. Do what? But the thought of her pushing herself all day after working such long shifts back to back bothered him. Especially knowing she planned to come in and work another long shift despite the fact that she wouldn’t be able to squeeze in more than a few hours’ sleep at most.
None of his business? That bothered him, too. Right or wrong, he cared about Abby, didn’t want her pushing herself so much. Friends could care about friends, could want to help each other.
“I’m going with you,” he repeated, his tone brooking no argument. “You’ll finish quicker and be able to get some of the rest you obviously need.”
She regarded him a long moment, then her lips twisted into a rather sinister smile. “You’re welcome to go with me, Dirk. Not because of me, but because you need a lesson in what Christmas is really about. Helping the needy is a great way to learn that lesson.”
He didn’t need to learn any such lesson.
“That’s not why I’m going.” He was going because she needed him, whether she was too stubborn to admit it or not. If easing Abby’s self-imposed load counted as helping the needy, so be it.
“No, but it’s definitely what you’re going to learn. Come on, Scrooge. Let’s finish our shifts so we can go make a difference in the world.”
Abby snuck a glance at where Dirk helped pack more canned food and basic household supplies into a box that would later be given to a needy person.
She hadn’t wanted him to come with her, didn’t want him being nice to her, didn’t want to be near him, period. How was she supposed to protect her heart when he insisted on helping her?
As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She had overstretched herself, and appreciated his help so that she’d finish earlier. But there was so much to be done at this time of year. So much important work. Besides, sitting at home gave her too much time to contemplate that when she went home only Mistletoe cared. That she had no family to come home to, no family to share Christmas dinners, no family to sit around the tree with and open packages.
No one.
Her gaze lifted from the box she was packing, landing on the man across the table.
Why did looking at him bring how alone she was into focus so clearly? Why did looking at him make her see what she’d been able to hide from herself in the past? That, although she loved volunteering, she didn’t do s
o selflessly. No, she also volunteered because doing so prevented her from thinking about how she’d spend another Christmas alone.
“You okay?”
Abby blinked at Dirk. Although he’d been terse when they’d first arrived, he had quickly impressed the other volunteers.
Volunteers who kept sending Abby sneaky smiles and suggestive eyebrow wiggles. After her first few attempts at convincing her longtime friends that she and Dirk were only coworkers, friends, she’d given up. After all, she didn’t buy the friends bit any more than they did. Besides, the more she’d protested, the bigger their smiles had grown.
“Abs? You okay?” he repeated.
She glanced at where Dirk had finished with his box and had lifted another to fill. A wave of dizziness hit her and she grasped hold of the table. What was wrong with her? To get sick right now would be so unfair.
“I’m fine,” she lied, hoping she was imagining the sweat beads popping out on her forehead.
Maybe she should have said no for once, asked the ladies to get someone else. Anything so she didn’t get ill in front of Dirk.
What was she thinking? Of course she couldn’t have done that. Not when it would mean that someone’s Christmas wouldn’t be as special, as magical.
When it would mean going home and being alone.
She was fine. Or would be if Dirk would get back to packing and quit staring at her. It wasn’t as if he knew she was struggling to keep up. She would not let him know just how much effort she was putting into this.
“Maybe you should rest for a few minutes,” he suggested, boxing up more canned goods. “I’ll finish this.”
Or maybe she didn’t have to tell him how much effort she was putting in. Maybe he already knew. Somehow. Probably that crazy connection they shared. The one he insisted on calling friendship.
She sighed.
“Or better yet…” He stopped what he was doing to pin her beneath his azure gaze. “Let me take you home where you can get proper sleep before you drop.”
The two volunteers elbowed each other. Abby bit back another sigh, this one from fatigue, and straightened her shoulders. “There’s no reason I can’t finish, Dirk.”
How dared he tell her what to do? Try to tell her what she needed? The only reason she’d agreed to let him come with her was because he needed a lesson in helping others, on what Christmas really meant. She should have said no. Him being here obviously stressed her.
“No reason except you need to rest.”
She ignored his comment. Drawing on all her inner strength to hide just how woozy she felt, she smiled at the ladies watching them curiously. “Once we get these packed, we’ll divvy them up and take the ones on my list to deliver. Dr. Kelley can go home and rest.”
Eyeing her like a kid studied a sole, tiny package labeled for him under the Christmas tree, Dirk frowned. A tightly controlled muscle jumped at the corner of his mouth. “This is too much after working all night. Call and cancel the fruit basket delivery.”
Tempting, but then who would deliver the baskets? Besides, she was pretty sure it was the stress of being near him making her feel so bad. That and the virus. If he’d just quit looking at her…
“No.” She couldn’t cancel her activities. Sure, she’d been a little out of sorts. That wasn’t any reason to let down those depending on her. They needed her help to make their Christmas all it should be, all hers wouldn’t be.
“Abby, if you’re not feeling well, Joyce and I can finish this up,” Judy, the lady in charge, offered, placing her hand on Abby’s shoulder.
Dirk smiled smugly, obviously viewing the woman’s offer as reinforcement that he was right, that she should do as he wanted. Enough was enough.
“Seriously.” She made eye contact with the elderly lady she’d bonded with while still in nursing school on her first volunteer project. “I’m fine. I just made the mistake of mentioning to Dr. Overprotective—” she flicked her thumb toward Dirk, hoping how much he meant to her didn’t show “—that I’d been feeling under the weather.”
“Nothing serious, I hope,” Judy said sympathetically, completely ignoring that Abby had said she was fine.
“Of course not. I’ve just had a little nausea and fatigue for a few days. No big deal.” At the woman’s look of concern, Abby added, “Nothing contagious.”
At least, she didn’t think so. If so, surely some of her coworkers would be having symptoms by now since she’d been fighting this for more than a week. For that matter, Dirk would be having symptoms. He’d definitely had up-close exposure the night of the Christmas party.
“I’m definitely not contagious,” she repeated, hoping to reassure her friends.
Her face brightening, Joyce clapped her hands together gleefully. “Ooh, when you walked in today, I just knew there was something different about you. Beside the fact you brought this gorgeous man with you.” The older woman sent a knowing smile Dirk’s way then returned her attention to Abby. “Just look at how you’re glowing.”
“Glowing?” Abby’s mouth dropped just as Dirk’s can crashed to the concrete floor as the woman’s meaning sank in. The sharp intake of his breath almost drowned out the loud clang. Abby was surprised the thunderous beat of her heart didn’t deafen them all. “If you’re implying…I think you’re making a wrong assumption.”
The two smiling volunteers looked at each other, then back at Abby and Dirk, their smiles fading as realization dawned. “You’re not pregnant?”
“Uh, no.” Abby coughed into her hand, trying to make sure she worded this correctly so she didn’t end up as before, protesting to the point that she was only convincing her friends of the opposite. “Of course I’m not pregnant. I can’t be.”
Dirk had used a condom. Although she’d been wrapped up in what they’d been doing, she was sure he had used protection. She’d found two opened foil pouches.
She faked another cough, whether to show her symptoms were from something else entirely or just to buy a few more seconds to think of what to say she wasn’t sure.
“You ladies are as bad as Dirk about overreacting.” She laughed as if their suggestion was preposterous. It was preposterous. Pregnant. Her. No way. “I’ve just been pushing myself a little too hard with the holidays and have picked up a minor bug of some sort at work. You know how I’m exposed to everything in the emergency room. It’s a wonder Dirk isn’t sick, too.”
But even as she gave the excuse she counted back the days since her last menstrual period and came up with a too-high number. Way too high a number. Oh. My.
This time she inhaled sharply, would have dropped a can if she’d been holding one. Her fingers curled into her palms, her nails digging painfully into the soft flesh.
Could she be? Was it possible? She’d never considered the possibility, hadn’t dared to consider her lovemaking with Dirk might leave her pregnant. They were consenting adults who’d used a condom. Not overzealous teenagers who’d had unprepared-for sex.
She wasn’t pregnant. Or was she?
She wanted kids. Someday, she wanted kids a lot. But not while unmarried and by a man who said he wanted to just be her friend. She wanted the dream. Snuggling in front of the fireplace together, sipping hot cocoa, enjoying each other’s company. She’d take his hand and place it over her much, much thinner belly from where she’d finally stuck to that exercise routine and, with hope in his eyes, he’d ask if she was. She’d nod. They’d fall into each other’s arms and be so happy together. A family. No more lonely Christmases. No more lonely ever.
But never had she imagined being pregnant, unwed and finding out while volunteering at a food bank with the prospective father having told her just the day before that they were only friends. By the look on Dirk’s face, this obviously wasn’t how he’d envisioned the moment, either.
Powerless to stop her hand, her palm settled over her abdomen. Was Dirk’s baby growing inside her? Would she give birth to a little boy or girl with eyes so blue they left the sky envious? With hair
so inky black the night paled in comparison?
If so, what in the world would she do about an unplanned pregnancy by a man who she technically barely knew, but felt as if she knew better than anyone she’d ever met? A man who said he only wanted to be friends and professed not to even like Christmas?
Chapter Seven
DIRK’S ears roared with the intensity of a jet taking off inside his head. Any moment he expected the backdraft to knock him off his feet and send him crashing against the wall.
Mentally, he was already thrashing about the room. Emotionally, he’d already crashed and gone up in flames.
Abby’s big hazel eyes had widened with shock, had darkened with unwanted possibilities, with fear, then softened as her hand pressed her lower abdomen.
Hell, no. She couldn’t be. He’d used a condom both times they’d made love. He always used a condom. Always.
But, hell, how old had the condoms in his wallet been? Although he hadn’t lived the life of a monk over the past four years, he hadn’t exactly had a high prophylactic turnover rate, either. He’d never considered checking the condoms’ expiration date. They’d been, what? About a year old, maybe? God, it was possible they’d expired.
He should have checked. He should have known better. He was a doctor, trained not to make the mistakes a seventeen-year-old boy would make.
Abby might be pregnant, and it was his fault.
He didn’t want her to be pregnant.
The two women who’d hovered over them both like mother hens were obviously drawing the same conclusions.
Despite her protest, Abby might be having a baby. His baby. The slightly stunned expression on her pretty little face said so.
Another woman, another pregnancy, swept through his memories. Sandra excitedly telling her news. Lord, he’d been scared. After all, he’d still had a few years of residency left. But he’d looked into her eyes and he’d hidden his fear, had swept her into his arms and spun her around. A baby. Shelby. And now, would there be another baby?