But wait, wasn’t there a rumour that he had a three-dates rule? He also shunned invitations from individual staff members to work social occasions, but that was probably sensible. Yet he’d asked her out. Strange.
She chose to be alone too, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want family and love. Nixon hadn’t said a word about his family when she’d talked about hers the day she’d blubbed all over him. He’d only said he was too busy for commitment. What with running a small but busy emergency department here in the Queenstown Hospital, where extreme sports injuries were as common as the tourists that filled the town all year round. Being a mountain-biking addict alongside his busy job, he didn’t have the time required for a full-on, permanent relationship.
Nixon might be surprised to know everyone knew he avoided relationships. It was fairly obvious when he only ever dated women who were visiting Queenstown, getting his testosterone fix without getting entangled. Emma hadn’t been able to decide if she should’ve been flattered or insulted when he’d asked her out. Apparently she’d been the exception to his rule. He socialised without getting involved, so he’d have been a perfect date for her. She’d have had fun. It wasn’t as if he were dull, weird, or afraid of his own shadow. Completely the opposite, in fact. Tall, built, fun, sincere.
Sexy.
Gasp.
Was it all right to think that of a friend?
Emma’s heart slowed. Sadness rocked in and darkened her mood; she closed her eyes so she didn’t have to see Nixon watching her with a hunger in his gaze that confused her. To her he was someone she worked with who’d become a good friend over the last few months. He was a man in need of a shake-up. Who amongst her old friends could she find to knock his knees out from under him? No one. What about—?
No one. Or—?
No one.
The thought of Nixon getting all cosy with someone she knew felt like a lead ball swinging at her head.
A phone sounded loud in the still room. ‘I’d better get back. The heli’s five minutes out,’ Nixon said as he read his message. ‘I grabbed a quiet moment to check on you.’
As her boss? Or as a friend. ‘You want to give me a lift home later?’ What was wrong with her? As if she wanted Nixon driving her home. But he’d ask less questions than her family.
Her mother got there before him. ‘I can come back in whenever you’re ready. You and Rosie should stay the night with us anyway.’
‘Thanks, Mum, but I’d prefer going to the apartment, taking a long, hot shower and curling up in my own bed.’ That was the truth, even if it meant having to stay awake until Rosie went to bed, which these days could be anywhere between seven and nine. The kid didn’t get bedtime rules at all.
‘Your brothers will be disappointed. Not to mention your father.’
Exactly. An inquest about her feelings was not on her agenda. ‘I’ll see them tomorrow.’
Nixon turned his formidable gaze from her to her mother and nodded. ‘I’m going to be tied up for a long time with what the paramedics are bringing in.’
‘What happened?’ Emma asked.
‘A mountain biker here for the Lake Hawea challenge went off the edge of the road somewhere on Cardrona while on a training ride and hit the rocks way below.’ Nixon headed for the door, and paused, one hand on the frame. ‘I’ll drop by later to see if you want me to give you a ride somewhere.’ A hint of challenge coloured his voice, which disappeared before he nodded to her mother, who was nudging Rosie towards the door. ‘A pleasure meeting you.’
Then he was gone, leaving a void in the room Emma wanted filled. By whom? By what? She had no idea, she only knew her head and heart were all over the place at the moment, and that had nothing to do with Nixon and all to do with the baby she’d delivered not so long ago.
Yet she felt that challenge even if she didn’t know what it was about. As if Nixon had handed her the baton and she needed to run with it. Now. When she’d just had a baby? When she did not need—or want—a man in her life? Forget her earlier longings. That had been baby-brain talk.
Baby. Her hands slid over her empty stomach. I had a baby today. And she’s nowhere to be seen.
Abbie’s baby. Not mine. Abbie’s baby. Abbie’s baby. My baby.
Emma cried herself into a restless, baby-filled sleep.
Copyright © 2017 by Sue MacKay
ISBN-13: 9781488020926
The Nurse’s Special Delivery
Copyright © 2017 by Louisa George
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