by Barbara Lohr
Table of Contents
Rescuing the Reluctant Groom
Licensing Rights
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Other Books by Barbara Lohr
Coming Home to You
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Rescuing the Reluctant Groom
Copyright © 2015 Barbara Lohr
All rights reserved.
ebook ISBN: 978-0-9908642-5-7
Purple Egret Press
Savannah, Georgia 31411
Cover Art: The Killion Group
Editor: The Editing Hall
Licensing Rights
All Rights Reserved. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be resold or given away to other people. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems. With the exception of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews, this work may not be reproduced without written permission granted by the author
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events and places in the book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or used fictitiously. Any similarity of real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Dedication
for
Ted
Chapter 1
A cold sun batted its head against the frosted bedroom windows. Winter in Chicago and the temperature hovered around ten degrees outside. Somewhere in Oak Park, church bells tolled. The weather might be freezing but contentment warmed Selena’s heart. Rolling over in bed, she traced a finger down Seth’s back. The man barely moved. Cocooned under the quilt, she snuggled closer to his heat. Madre de Dios, this felt good.
If she poked her nose above the covers and exhaled, her breath might form a cloud. Outside, car tires whined, spinning on the ice. Selena sure wasn’t anxious to get out there. Que bueno that today was McKenna’s turn to be on call for their midwifery practice.
Like always, Seth had kicked off the comforter. The man was a walking space heater. He lay curled on his tummy like a baby, except babies didn’t have muscles like his. Seth Kirkpatrick was a babe, not a niño. The man was strong enough to load a stretcher into an ambulance himself, gentle enough to calm an accident victim. Her man was all heart.
Dark stubble accented his square chin and framed his sculpted lips. The auburn Kirkpatrick hair was shaved shorter on the side. Oh yeah, he was a bad boy and Selena should feel darn lucky. Instead, frustration chipped at her peace, like an ice scraper against the frosted window.
“Te amo, you maddening man,” she whispered. Bells still rang in the early morning air, happy as wedding bells. Her hands and heart felt restless. She danced her fingertips over Seth's strong nose, skimmed the full lips.
Wedding bells and babies?
What was with her today?
With a sleepy mumble, Seth hugged her tight. Face pressed against the pillow, he was dreaming. She chuckled when he wrinkled his forehead, like he was trying to tell one of his stories. Most times, he couldn’t remember the punch line. Seth got so mad when that happened. Pushing up on an elbow, she watched him.
Que guapo. Her man was so gorgeous.
Was Seth hers? Sometimes she wondered. Sure, he could talk about medical conditions with patients. No problema. But when it came to feelings and their relationship? Not so good.
The words she’d been waiting for? Selena heard them only in her dreams.
Eyes still closed, he ran a warm hand from her shoulder to one hip.
“Oh, mi amor.” She squirmed with pleasure.
“Sissy…” he breathed.
“Sissy?” Selena sprang up so fast, the quilt slid to the floor. Frigid air seared her skin like dry ice. Had her heart stopped beating? She swatted at him. “Qué dices? What did you just say about Sissy?”
Rubbing his eyes, Seth mumbled, “Sissy who? Sissy Hanson?”
Sí, I’m having a heart attack.
A frown appeared above his dark eyes. The bells had stopped. All joy had been sapped from the room. “What are you talking about, babe? Huh? Come here, Selena.”
That husky morning voice usually worked Selena like a loofah sponge. Not this morning. Sissy? The name still rang in her ears. Blonde hair, blue eyes and a body that even made that navy EMS uniform look sexy. Standing beside the bed, Selena felt stiff as a cemetery stone. She crossed her arms across her heaving chest.
Then she got mad.
“You! Idiota! Mi madre me dijo que…” Words that would make her mother blush flowed like lava. Still wasn’t enough. Grabbing a pillow, Selena started swinging.
“Hey, stop! What are you doing?” Seth struggled to sit up.
She tossed the pillow but not the anger. Selena pressed her trembling lips together. No way would she let Seth see her cry. Reaching down, she grabbed her clothes from the cold hardwood floor. Woke her up fast, that’s for sure, and made her madder than ever.
“What are you doing?” Sitting up, Seth scratched his head.
“I’m leaving. You never tell me you love me. Nunca. Never. I’m a fool. And now this Sissy thing? Really?”
“Sissy Hanson?”
“Ah, hah!” Leaning over, Selena stabbed his chest with one finger, wishing her nails were longer. “So you admit it.”
“Admit what?” He ran a hand across the muscular chest now imprinted with her fingernail. How could that one move turn her on? Selena’s anger kicked up a notch.
“So you like her blonde hair, eh? That cute dimple? How long has this been going on? All those nights together working the late shift?” How could a man look so adorable when his hair was a mess and he had sleepers in his eyes?
He shoved up onto an elbow. “What are you taking about, woman?”
“First word out of your mouth this morning. Sissy. Oh, Sissy.” Lips pursed together, she gave a great imitation, even though Seth hadn’t said the name quite like that.
Seth’s lips moved but no words came to comfort her.
Shoving her head into her sweatshirt, Selena swept two rubber bands from the night table and yanked her hair into pigtails. “Perfecto. Deny it, go ahead. Tell me you’re not fooling around with her.”
Seth looked at her like she’d grown two heads. “Selena, baby, I’m asking you… what is going on?”
Normally Selena would melt when Seth blinked those long eyelashes that no man should have. Not today. She held up two fingers. “Dos años. Two years together and you still can’t use the L word. But you can moan about Sissy. Oh, sure. See-see. Well, she can have you!”
Ah, hah! That got him up. Trying to find his jeans, he hopped around on the cold floor. Seth’s muscular legs flexing in the dim light almost made her weaken. But not this time. Instead, she kicked his jeans farther under the bed.
“Selena, honey, that’s not true. Stop being so crazy.”
“Loca? Me?” Grabbing the cowhide purse he’d given her for Christmas, she raced for the stairs. “We are over. Finito.”
She should have done this a long time ago. Should’ve left him the first time she told him she loved him
and he just looked at her. Right, he’d stared at her like she’d ordered a meal not on his menu. Clutching the bannister so she wouldn’t fall, she gulped back her tears. No way would she let him see her cry.
Maybe Seth Kirkpatrick never would settle down. Maybe he’d always be a ladies’ man, the muchacho guapo every woman wanted.
Shoving her feet into her suede boots, Selena tore her silver quilted jacket from the front hall closet. Stumbling to the head of the stairs, Seth was having a hard time getting into his jeans. “For cripes’ sake, Selena. Wait.”
Glancing into the kitchen, she saw the red Fiesta dishes she’d set out last night. The ones she’d bought him for Christmas, so bright and cheerful for the holidays. McKenna, Seth’s sister and Selena’s good friend, had teased her. “You got dishes for my brother? That’s so cute, Selena. Is this part of his hope chest?”
Cute. So perfect for a couple on Sunday morning—plates for eggs and toast, the red mugs ready next to the coffee machine.
Grabbing one of the plates, she turned.
Now halfway down the steps, Seth came to a halt. “Selena?”
A flick of her wrist sent the dish soaring like a frisbee. He ducked. Qué lástima. Barely missing one of his Frank Lloyd Wright sketches, it shattered against the wall. Seth’s hands shot out, palms up. “Selena, honey. Please.”
A mug felt so good in her hand. Heavy enough to hurt. “Please? Please, Selena,” she mimicked him. “I love to hear you beg.”
This time she took aim. The mug hit his arm and ricocheted to the bannister before crashing to the floor. But hurting Seth hurt her. She paused, but not for long. This morning, her own pain felt worse.
Seth picked his way over the broken pieces. “Ouch. Crap. Are you crazy?”
“Loca, sí!” Crazy enough to fall in love with you. Another mug. But he dodged again. For a big man, Seth could be quick on his feet. Crash. She smiled and considered the sugar bowl. That piece had been hard to find. And he was close to the bottom of the staircase.
Racing from the kitchen, she yanked open the front door. Icy air blasted her face. Jacket not zipped, she didn’t even feel the cold. After she slammed the door behind her with a bang, she heard Seth swearing a blue streak. Taking a deep breath, she smiled.
A frozen world greeted her. Snow fell softly, catching in her hair and squeaking beneath her boots. She tried to be careful hurrying to her sports vehicle. At least it started. Leaving the engine running, she popped the back open, grabbed a brush and cleared the windows. Cold snow blew back into her face. They didn’t call Chicago the Windy City for nothing.
Tears blinded her by the time she climbed back into her car. Seth hadn’t come after her. Clutching her chest, she breathed in and tried to calm her breaking heart. Then she floored it.
Seth’s front door opened just as she squealed away from the curb.
“Selena! Wait!” Is that what she heard?
No more waiting. The SUV fishtailed and then shot down the street.
Sunday morning and the streets were quiet under the fresh mantel of snow. Newspapers were embedded in white lawns and driveways. Eyes blurred with tears, she eased up on the gas. Last thing she needed was a ticket or an accident. When she reached Harlem Avenue, she turned north toward the Eisenhower Expressway. It was too early for bumper-to bumper traffic. The leaden gray sky was turning pearl pink. Sniffling back her tears, she switched on the radio. Thank goodness the song that blasted was Adele. Something about burning so bad after she broke up with her man. Perfecto.
Selena ratcheted up the music until her ears rang.
She’d broken those expensive dishes. Really? She busted out laughing.
Right now Seth was sipping coffee at his breakfast bar, watching sports highlights on TV. He probably thought she'd get over it, like always. He’d grab the dustpan and sweep up the broken dishes, along with pieces of her heart.
Later he’d stop over, lean in her doorway like the hottie that he was and give her an I’m-so-sorry smile. Embarrassing, but that had worked in the past. Her anger always melted like snow in March.
But this was January.
What made this different, besides the Sissy thing?
They were at the two-year mark. Within two years, a woman knows if he’s a keeper. Well, Selena knew. She wanted Seth Kirkpatrick for the rest of her life. But maybe he didn’t feel that way. How that hurt. Popping her console open, she grabbed a tissue.
Did she think he actually had a thing with Sissy, the cute EMT on his emergency medical services squad? Not really, and some of the pain eased with her sigh. Still, the fact that he’d used Sissy’s name, even in a dream, made her head pound. Stoked up again, anger flowed through her, igniting every nerve ending along the way. She banged her hands against the steering wheel to ease the pain in her heart.
But she better watch it. Her palms throbbed. These hands delivered babies, her life’s work.
Only one place for her this morning, so she headed for Montclair Hospital. No way could she go home to her apartment and sit there alone on this cold Sunday. At the office, she could update the charts Dorothy had left on her desk. Hardly any traffic clogged the Magnificent Mile when she hit Michigan Avenue. Trees strung with tiny white lights, the area always looked like Christmas.
This year the holidays had brought so many good things to the Kirkpatrick family. Her good friend McKenna had become engaged to Logan Castle, the head of OB at Montclair. Sure, she was happy for McKenna. Six months and Logan popped the question.
Selena wanted to be next. She envisioned a ring on her finger that said Seth loved her forever. But she might have gray hair before he said those words. Sure, sometimes he’d toss out a “Love ya” before they hung up. How she longed for a lot more than that, but she'd be happy with “I love you, Selena. Will you marry me?”
She couldn’t wait forever.
The ache in her heart pooled in her empty stomach. Maybe she’d never eat again.
She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the light to change. Collars turned up against the winter wind, visitors strolled past sparkling windows. But Selena couldn’t feel the joy. Her mood felt as heavy as the parking meters. Had she wasted two years with Seth Kirkpatrick? After all, she was twenty-seven. She sure didn’t want to be like McKenna and reach thirty with no prospects in sight. Babies didn’t always come easy. Look at Connor, the oldest in the Kirkpatrick clan, and his wife Amanda. Getting pregnant had taken over five years and left them broke.
This past winter they’d adopted a baby whose young, unmarried mother had been in McKenna’s natural childbirth class. Meanwhile, the in vitro treatments at Logan's infertility clinic finally kicked in for Connor and Amanda. They were pregnant with twins and suddenly Kirkpatrick babies were everywhere.
But not for Selena.
When she reached the parking garage of the hospital, she took the ramp slowly to the top level, where snow mounded around the wheels of McKenna’s red jeep. She must have had a delivery last night. Jumping out of her SUV, Selena listened to the waves rumbling below. Lake Michigan thundered against the ice floes that formed along the shore, heavy, dark and cold.
Cheeks prickling from the icy wind, Selena wiped her nose on her jacket sleeve just like her mamacita told her never to do. Today she felt like breaking every rule.
Wasn’t she made of tougher stuff than this? All those hot summers detassling corn and picking cherries as a migrant worker had taught her one thing. She could survive anything. With or without Seth Kirkpatrick, she would have a better life. Turning on her heel, she locked her car with one click and hurried toward the elevator shaft.
Her phone pinged and she checked it while she waited. Sure. Seth would now bombard her with texts. The silver doors opened and she crammed the phone back in her pocket.
Taking the elevator down to the third floor, she marched across the overpass and into the medical office building attached to the hospital. The empty hallways spooked her on weekends. Unlocking the door of For Wome
n, she entered the deserted waiting room, now lit by one lamp they left on for the cleaning staff. Chairs lined the walls, along with low tables stacked with magazines full of Hollywood gossip.
Stretching along the far side, a huge bulletin board was papered with snapshots of babies—their Wall of Fame. She never got tired of looking at those pictures. During the week, this room was crowded with women. This morning, no patients waited to register at the high counter where their receptionist Dorothy usually sat.
The practice was growing. For Women had three midwives, two nurse practitioners and two medical assistants, all drawn by natural techniques like water birth. She headed back into the exam area. When she saw the light on in McKenna’s office, her steps slowed.
Facing McKenna right now might be hard. But her office was empty and relief flooded through her. Head down, Selena continued on and unlocked her own door. Unzipping her jacket, she tossed it over a chair, dropped her purse on the floor and collapsed into the desk chair.
How had Seth become such a heartbreak?
Turning on her computer, Selena scanned the admissions. Yep, Melanie Turner had her baby last night. Their patients rotated through the practice, eventually seeing all three midwives. But McKenna had been Melanie’s main contact. Melanie and Richard were a cute couple who had waited a long time for this baby, kind of like Connor and Amanda.
But Selena was getting ahead of herself. Why worry about babies when she couldn’t even land the man? She was reading the Sunday memo from Warren, their CEO, when the outer door opened. Five seconds later, McKenna stood in her doorway. Selena’s throat closed just looking at the woman who would never be her sister-in-law. Man, she couldn’t even get the words out. No way would she cry on McKenna’s shoulder, but she sure needed her advice.
McKenna’s smile slid from her face. “Hey, girlfriend. What’s going on?”
A sniffle was all Selena could manage.
McKenna’s arms opened. Pushing back her chair, Selena walked into her friend’s warm comfort. She was seriously in need of some sisterly love. “Hate to tell you, McKenna. But it’s Seth.”