More Than A Feeling (The Boston Five Series #3)

by Poppy J. Anderson

  “Uh …” Kayleigh threw Aidan a skeptical look. She didn’t think he looked remotely like a radiologist, with his stubbly chin, the red plaid shirt and white tee underneath, and the dusty work pants. “No, Mrs. Harper. This is my friend …”

  “Oh.” The elderly woman giggled coyly. “Are you about to engage in some workplace canoodling with your boyfriend, Dr. Fitzpatrick? I’ll be silent as the grave.”

  Of course Kayleigh should have explained that she had not brought Aidan into the examination room to engage in any “canoodling,” but considering the preceding half hour, in which she had attempted to dissuade this woman from thinking she had prostate cancer and a brain tumor, it seemed futile.

  Thus she simply pulled Aidan over to the examination bed in the corner and pulled the curtain closed.

  “Are we engaging in some canoodling now?” Aidan asked under his breath, like a conspirator in an assassination plot. Quite the comedian.

  “You wish,” Kayleigh replied and placed her hands on her hips. “So what happened?”

  Aidan made a face and turned his head to the side as if to look over his shoulder. “When I was getting your ladder from the basement, I stumbled backwards a step or two, and banged against that brittle railing. I saw in the mirror that I have a few splinters sticking out from between my shoulder blades, but I just can’t reach them on my own.”

  Kayleigh nodded. “Take off your shirt,” she ordered.

  “Dr. Fitzpatrick,” Mrs. Harper’s giggling voice penetrated the curtain, “you are wicked.”

  Her current patient seemed to find this just as amusing as the elderly lady, because he began to unbutton his shirt and asked with a sly grin, “The pants, too?”

  “God, Aidan!” Annoyed, she grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling it down over his shoulders, before going for his white tee. He made some pained noises of protest. “Don’t be such a baby!” she chided.

  “A little more gently, please,” he said as she pulled the t-shirt over his head and threw it on the bunk. “This hurts, you know.”

  That merely elicited a loud snort from her. “You don’t say? I’ve had women in here giving birth to babies with a 15.3-inch cranial circumference.”

  She ignored his shocked gasp, stepped behind him, and pushed his head forward to get an unobstructed view of the wound. “Bend over,” she instructed. “Lower.”

  “Dr. Fitzpatrick,” he mumbled hoarsely. “Do you have to say such naughty things while you’re working?”

  “Stop clowning around,” she warned. “And bend over.”

  “Oh, you’re not into clowns then?” he teased.

  Since he couldn’t see her, she indulged in a broad smile and let her gaze roam his handsome back, which seemed to consist entirely of bulging muscles, if you ignored the painful-looking splinters that stuck out of his flesh right in the middle of his upper back.

  She lowered her head to look even more closely before realizing she was inadvertently stroking his shoulder with a gentle hand.

  “So?” he asked in a strangely choked voice.

  “Some of these splinters seem to have gone in rather deep,” she declared. “Now I believe it hurts like hell.”

  “It’s not bad,” he groaned.

  Kayleigh took a deep breath and stepped back, taking in his dark head and the errant strands that curled around his strong neck. The way he was sitting there with his bare back to her, combined with the thought that he’d injured himself working on her house, only served to kindle her lust for him. She couldn’t help it; a man who worked with his hands, and fixed loose shelves, shower heads, and gurgling drains, just did it for her. It might’ve made her seem like a Neanderthal, but that was her opinion and she was sticking to it.

  Apparently she wasn’t the only person in the room with naughty thoughts circling around a naked Aidan.

  “Dr. Fitzpatrick? Are you already canoodling over there? Am I supposed to cover my ears?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Harper,” she called over Aidan’s laughter. “That might be better.”

  Then she patted her current patient on the shoulder and leaned to the side to grab a pair of latex gloves. “Do you want me to numb the wound before I take out the splinters, Aidan?”

  His answer was a scornful snort, so she was silent and went to work without further preliminaries, spraying a disinfectant on the wound and then pulling the wooden splinters out of the otherwise immaculate back with a pair of tweezers. Kayleigh was impressed with Aidan’s ability to not flinch. He was sitting surprisingly still on the bed and didn’t utter a word or a groan.

  The pleasant silence was marred only by Mrs. Harper’s soft humming from beyond the curtain.

  And then, suddenly, by Aidan’s unexpected words. “Thank you, Kayleigh.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said lightly. “I feel guilty, since you got these while working on my house. A guest shouldn’t be rewarded like that.”

  “It’s only a scratch,” he said with a slight shrug.

  “Maybe so,” she murmured. She licked her lips, struggling to refrain from lowering her head to smell the back of his neck—not that he smelled bad. Quite the contrary, she reveled in the scent of mint shower gel mingling with the scent of man at work.

  “I’m almost done with the floor,” he informed her proudly. “The wallpaper is next.”

  “How about taking a day off?” she asked with a grin as she pulled out the last splinter. “I’m sure you’d enjoy doing nothing for a change.”

  When he answered, his voice sounded burdened. “Can I be honest?”

  “Always,” she replied with conviction. She spread an anti-inflammatory gel on the wound and covered it with a large band-aid.

  “Over the course of the last few years, there have been far too many days when I did nothing at all, just sat in my cell waiting for night to fall. So ‘work’ sounds like heaven to me now.”

  She remained motionless behind him and then placed a soothing hand on his back. “I understand,” she whispered slowly.

  When he turned his head and offered her a tender smile, she pulled her hand away and switched back to professional mode. “You better leave the band-aid on until tomorrow,” she said, her voice slightly too high-pitched, “and avoid contact with water. It shouldn’t get infected, but I’m going to check on it again tomorrow.”

  Aidan nodded, rose from the bed, and turned around to grab his t-shirt, offering Kayleigh a full view of his amazing chest and abs. “Do I have to come back here and share a room with that nice woman again?” His voice was muffled through the cotton as he slipped the tee over his head.

  Distracted by his wonderfully defined chest, she blinked but, luckily, raised her gaze right as he pulled the t-shirt down and looked at her again.

  “Hmm? What?”

  He laughed and picked up his button-up. “Are you going to check it again at home, or do I need to come back here tomorrow?”

  Aidan winced a little as he slipped an arm into a sleeve of the plaid shirt. “Is there anything else I should do, Doctor?” he asked jokingly. “Bed rest, a light diet, lots of sleep?”

  Kayleigh pursed her lips and took off the gloves. “Does that mean you’d do whatever I tell you?” she asked curiously.

  One of his blue eyes winked at her. “If it’s a medical order, yes.”

  “I see.” She nodded, and suddenly, an idea came to her. “Then I prescribe an exciting baseball game, tomorrow night. Including beer and hot dogs.”

  His eyes lit up in surprise. “What?”

  She felt insecure and a little nervous as she shrugged and then met his questioning gaze. “Tomorrow the Red Sox are playing the Rangers, and I have two tickets. Would you like to go?”

  Chapter 9

  The fact that the Red Sox beat the Texas Rangers hadn’t been missed by anyone here at O’Reary’s.

  That was obvious to Kayleigh and Aidan as soon as they stepped into the pub after leaving Fenway Park and were greeted by a mob of celebrating fans who were singing—or yell
ing, as the case may be—the Red Sox anthem, “Tessie.”

  One glance around the pub told Kayleigh that no member of her own family was present, which suited her just fine. She was not eager to be interrogated about Aidan, which was bound to happen if they spied her doing anything with him. Tonight, she just wanted to have one last pint to round off a thoroughly enjoyable evening with her house guest, who’d made her laugh and given her a great time. Her slight misgivings, namely that it might be weird to sit through an entire baseball game with him, had proven wrong. If she was being honest with herself, it’d been the best date she’d been on in a long time.

  Or it would have been—if it had been a real date, that was.

  “Let’s find a table in a quiet corner,” Aidan murmured into her ear, placing a protective hand on her back and leading her to the back of the pub, where it was a little more quiet and cozy, and less packed.

  Kayleigh didn’t mind escaping the bellowing baseball fans, most of whom had known her since she was a toddler.

  As soon as she and Aidan had sat down on the sturdy old wooden bench in the back, one of her late father’s ancient pals staggered past, raised his glass, and toasted her. “What a great game, Kayleigh. Sláinte!”

  “Sláinte,” Aidan and Kayleigh called out simultaneously and then had to laugh.

  “Do I need to worry about your alcohol consumption?” Aidan asked teasingly, after they’d given the waitress their drink orders. “You know, since everyone in here seems to know you by name.” He was playing with a cardboard coaster advertising an Irish stout.

  She could have answered with a cheeky comment about how they’d met in this exact pub and then gone home to her place, but Kayleigh didn’t want to spoil the mood with meaningless blabber or dumb jokes. Instead, she poked him in the shoulder and pointed at the wall above her, where dozens of framed pictures were collecting dust.

  “Do you see that photograph? The one in the wooden frame?”

  “The one of the firefighters?”

  “Exactly.” She could hear the note of pride that had snuck into her voice. “The man in the center with the dark mustache is my dad. He worked in the local fire department for thirty-two years. The last fifteen of which, he was actually chief.”

  It made her feel all warm and tingly when Aidan studied the photo for quite a while.

  When he turned his attention back to her, he grabbed a handful of peanuts from the small bowl on the table, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Is there a special reason that picture’s hanging on the wall?”

  Kayleigh munched on a few peanuts as well and then swallowed to explain, “Everyone knows everyone in this part of Charlestown. The boys from the fire department are like local heroes, and there’s always someone to buy them a drink when they come into O’Reary’s. Everyone has a family member or friend whose house they saved from flames one time or another, you know.”

  “Sounds like you’re very proud of your dad.”

  She nodded against the sudden lump in her throat. Even after more than three years since her dad’s fatal accident, she missed him terribly. Not a single day went by that she didn’t think of him, or wish she could tell him about her day—her crazy patients, or a well-cooked new dish.

  “Yes, I’m very proud of him,” she replied in that far too high-pitched voice. “We all are. For me and my brothers, he’s a hero.”

  Aidan’s eyes lit up, and he looked pensive. “It sounds nice to have a hero in your family.”

  Kayleigh scooted closer and pointed at another photo, which he studied just as closely. “That’s a very old newspaper clipping about my grandpa. He was with the Boston police his entire life, and this was taken after he saved a woman’s life by fishing her out of the Charles River after someone kicked her in.”

  She caught another whiff of the minty shower gel Aidan used; the bottle had been in her bathroom for two weeks now. She scooted even closer, and now there was no space for even a sheet of paper between them.

  “On the other side of the counter you can see photos of Heath and his team; a clipping about my mom, when she won a prize for best cake at the church bazaar; and a framed copy of Kyle’s first-place certificate at the city pentathlon.”

  “So you mean to tell me that the Fitzpatricks are something of a legend in here?”

  “Hah! I wouldn’t exactly call us a legend.”

  “Then what would you call it?”

  She grinned. “Well, in here, it’s more of loving to hate us, or hating to love us.”

  He gave her a questioning blink. Those blue, blue eyes of his … “Explain.”

  Kayleigh pointed in the direction of the bar. “The bartender’s name is Mike,” she explained. “He’s the owner. He admires my mom to no end, because she was his Sunday school teacher years ago. And he also loved my dad, ’cause he extinguished a fire in Mike’s summer house. But he’s less enthusiastic about my brothers.”

  “And why is that?”

  She giggled and put a hand over her mouth. “Once, Heath was inches away from tearing the whole pub apart—he was that angry. And then Mike has this lovely niece, who Shane dated in high school. Well … after spending some time in Shane’s old Chevy, she wasn’t as innocent as when she first got into my dear brother’s car.”

  “Nice things you’re telling me about my future brother-in-law,” Aidan murmured.

  “That was quite a few years ago,” Kayleigh added in her brother’s defense. “I don’t want to know how many girls you deflowered in your car.”

  “Zero,” he professed earnestly. But then a mischievous grin crept to his face. “I just had more style than your brother. I used my dad’s garage for that purpose.”

  “A garage?” Kayleigh sounded outraged. “That’s almost like Silence of the Lambs, Aidan! You should be ashamed!”

  “Better than the backseat of a car,” he pointed out. But then he grew more serious. “Anyway, in spite of that episode with the owner’s niece, your family seems popular in here. And everyone knows you, right?”

  “I can’t help that, I’m afraid. I was already coming here as a little kid, eating shepherd’s pie.”

  There was a hint of yearning in Aidan’s lighthearted response. “Sounds like you’re really entrenched in this place. And this neighborhood. And this town, too.”

  Kayleigh smiled gently and wrapped her arms around herself. “I didn’t even leave Boston to go to college. I grew up here and can’t imagine living anywhere else. After all, my whole family lives here, too. And everything reminds me of my childhood, my friends, and my dad.”

  “I get that,” he murmured, letting his eyes roam over the pictures on the wall. “I can totally relate to that.”

  “Really?” she asked, feeling strangely touched by his admission. She hadn’t expected their boisterous mood from earlier in the evening to turn into an emotional conversation about family and home.

  “Having a home is really important,” he added with an almost grim undertone. “I know that all too well.”

  “Aidan—”

  He cut her off with a curt shake of his head. “After all,” he explained sheepishly, “I thought a home was important enough to go to jail for—so Thorne wouldn’t lose hers.”

  He saw her puzzled expression and added with a sigh, “After our dad’s passing, we had to pay off his debts and the mortgage on the house. Well, we could have walked away from the mortgage, but … Thorne was so fond of the house.”

  “So you didn’t?” Kayleigh asked sympathetically.

  He shrugged, probably in order to look like he’d taken it all casually, but Kayleigh saw in his pensive eyes that it wasn’t the case.

  “When our dad died, it was especially hard on Thorne. Our mom passed when Thorne was just a teenager, and when dad followed, Thorne had barely finished high school. I was several years older …”

  “You’re barely three years older than her,” Kayleigh protested, compassion in her voice. “I’m sure it was hard on you, too.”

  Hi
s frown told her he was trying to play the untouchable. Typical male attitude. And his words confirmed her suspicion.

  “It was different for me. I was responsible for taking care of my sister, and the house meant the world to her. I think she was afraid she’d lose all the memories of our parents if we lost the house.”

  “And that’s why you got involved in that shady business.” It was a statement, not a question.

  And immediately, he began to argue, berate himself. “No, Kayleigh. Our financial worries are no excuse for what I did. Our parents raised us to be decent people. They always stressed that crime is no solution.” With a frown on his face and what sounded like a lump in his throat, he added, “If my parents knew I went to jail, they—”

  “Aidan,” she interrupted softly, putting her hand on his. “Don’t.”

  He stared at her silently, and his gaze traveled to her hand on his. Then he fixed his eyes on her face again. The emotional closeness and the warmth of his skin was nothing to the open, vulnerable look they exchanged. Kayleigh wanted to avert her eyes, or scoot away from him just a little, to break the electric tension between them, but she couldn’t move or look away.

  After what seemed an eternity, Aidan croaked, “I keep being amazed that you can be this open-minded and unprejudiced, Kayleigh.”

  The compliment made her blush. “Nonsense,” she said self-consciously. “You know that all I am is bigmouthed.”

  “Oh yes,” he agreed. “You do have a very big mouth, but it doesn’t take long to realize what’s behind that.”

  Kayleigh fought a sudden lump in her throat. “Oh, yeah? What’s behind it, then?”

  Before he could answer, Mike himself came to their table with their beers, and much to Kayleigh’s chagrin, he launched into a detailed analysis of the baseball game, which deflated the bubble of intimacy that had formed around her and Aidan in the course of their conversation.

  While Kayleigh was forced to make small talk with Mike, she could see, out of the corner of her eye, Aidan raise the glass to his lips and listen with curious interest.