Claiming the Doctor's Heart

by Renee Ryan

  He flicked a glance toward the back door. The gesture gave him a hunted look, as if he didn’t want to be alone with her.

  “I have a few more things to do before dinner’s ready.” She kept her voice light. Easygoing. Nothing to worry about here. Still, she couldn’t escape a vague sense of rejection. “Why don’t you go hang out with your daughters while I get everything ready in here?”

  His chin jerked, very faintly, but she caught the gesture. And the hesitation. He had something more to say.

  Whatever it was, Olivia didn’t want to hear it right now.

  “It’s a beautiful evening.” She subtly motioned toward the door, making sure to do so calmly, with very little fanfare. “It’d be a shame not to take advantage of the fresh air.”

  He nodded. Slowly. Then deliberately stepped around her, careful not to touch her as he passed by. Mildly hurt, she barely restrained herself from informing him she was up to date on all her cootie shots.

  At the door, he stopped abruptly, turned around and moved back to her side. “Olivia?”

  “Yes?”

  He clasped both her hands in his. “I appreciate you making dinner tonight. You went above the call of duty. I...” He smiled into her eyes. “Thank you.”

  For a moment, Olivia thought her knees might give out. Desperate for some perspective, she lowered her head. And immediately connected her gaze with their joined hands.

  Why did hers look so right wrapped inside his?

  And why—why—did she have to notice something so small and inconsequential?

  “Oh, Connor.” She lifted her head to stare into his eyes. “You’re so very welcome.”

  Chapter Five

  While the twins played with their puppy in the backyard, Connor sat alone on the stoop and breathed in the clean, pine-scented air. The lawn needed cutting and the hedges could use a good trim. He’d get to both eventually. But not tonight.

  Maybe over the weekend.

  “Never enough time,” he muttered, pressing his fingers to his temples. The gesture did nothing to relieve the pounding behind his eyes.

  On a tight breath, he dropped his hands and focused on his daughters. Their unrestrained laughter soothed the ache in his heart, and slowed down his raging pulse. Unfortunately, his rambling thoughts didn’t fall into line as easily.

  Arriving home at night in time for dinner was one of the things he’d promised Sheila on her deathbed. The juggling necessary to follow through on that promise wasn’t always easy, but always worth the effort.

  Family first, family always, that had been Sheila’s motto.

  Connor’s, too.

  Or, at least, it was now. He had no regrets. His life was richer, fuller, for keeping his priorities straight.

  But seeing how well Olivia fit in his home, how comfortable she’d looked in his kitchen, had been like a punch in the gut. And a stab to his heart. He couldn’t explain why.

  The dull drumming behind his eyes took on a mean edge.

  Connor wanted his daughters to have a woman’s influence in their lives, a mother figure even. But Olivia Scott?

  He’d never thought of her that way.

  Well, except that one time he’d forced himself to forget, because there had been nothing to remember.

  Or so he’d told himself.

  But, now, looking back, he wondered...

  He’d been in his senior year at University of Colorado, home for a short visit before final exams. Sheila had just given him an ultimatum: Propose or let her go.

  She’d been the love of his life, the only girl he’d ever dated. He’d never intended anything other than marrying her. But his plan had been to finish medical school before settling down.

  Sheila hadn’t wanted to wait.

  Confused and angry at being pushed into a decision before he was ready, Connor had stopped by the Scott home to speak with Ethan. He’d needed his friend’s perspective.

  Ethan hadn’t been home.

  Olivia had. She’d been sixteen at the time, maybe seventeen, still a girl. But there’d been a moment when Connor had seen the promise of the woman she would become. It hadn’t been attraction, not exactly, but it hadn’t been indifference, either.

  More like a...hmmm.

  He’d felt the same shocked wonder again just now in the kitchen.

  How did he reconcile the shift from mild curiosity to—

  Samson scrambled into his lap, sufficiently averting his attention. The animal’s paws were covered in wet, sticky mud, as now were Connor’s khakis. He picked up the squirming bundle of tawny fur. The puppy’s legs pumped hard.

  Connor tightened his grip.

  “Sorry, Daddy.” Megan frowned at the dog. “He sort of fell in a mud puddle.”

  Connor gave a soft, humorless sigh. Samson sort of fell into a lot of mishaps. The dog was a walking, yipping disaster magnet.

  Straining against Connor’s hold, the mutt leaned forward and licked Connor’s face. “Not cool.”

  Samson gave him another lick, followed by a big puppy grin.

  “Really not cool.”

  Olivia slipped her head out the back door, saving the dog from a good scolding. “Dinner’s ready.”

  “Be right there.” Connor set the puppy on the ground, held him steady with a hand on his back. “Can one of you toss me a towel from the mudroom?”

  “On it,” Molly announced, shuffling past him.

  “I’ll get Samson’s dinner ready,” Megan offered.

  “That’d be great.”

  The door slammed behind the girls. Then swung back open a second later. “Here you go, Daddy.”

  A rag sailed through the air. Connor caught it with one hand and immediately went to work wiping the mutt’s paws.

  Once Samson’s feet were dry, and Connor’s pants were relatively mud free, he brought the puppy in the house and set him in front of his dish.

  He dove in snout-first, all but inhaling the food.

  Shaking his head at the little glutton, Connor went to wash his hands, then stopped as he caught sight of the table off to his left. “I only count three place settings.”

  “That’s right.” Hands full with a bubbling casserole, Olivia glanced over her shoulder. “One for each family member.”

  “Aren’t you eating with us?”

  Setting the dish down on a hot pad, she turned to face him directly. “Does Carlotta eat with you?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’m not eating with you, either.”

  Probably for the best. Yet her response didn’t sit well with him. She’d worked hard making dinner for him and the girls, without being asked. The gesture had been a kind one, a thoughtful one. She should enjoy the spoils of her efforts. “Carlotta doesn’t eat with us because she prefers to dine with her husband in the evenings.”

  “I see.”

  Did she?

  Apparently not.

  He was going to have to be more specific. “Join us for dinner, Olivia.”

  He waited for her response. When she simply stared at him, he wondered if she had another commitment. His shoulders bunched at the thought, but again, he couldn’t explain the odd reaction. “Unless you have other plans?”

  “No.” She gave a short laugh. “No plans.”

  The knot forming between his shoulder blades released. “Then it’s settled.”

  They smiled at each other, neither moving, neither speaking. For a single heartbeat, Connor allowed himself to stare at her, to see her as a woman separate from his friend’s kid sister. Strangely drawn to her, he reached out, but then dropped his hand as old loyalties tugged and twisted inside him.

  The air between them grew thick with tension, and something else, something that went beyond words. A sile
nt promise of things Connor had long ago forgotten to hope for?

  Stunned by the direction of his thoughts, he transferred his weight from one foot to the other.

  Olivia shifted to her left.

  They broke eye contact simultaneously.

  “I’ll put the drinks on the table,” she said, hurrying around him.

  The odd moment was gone. Nothing but a memory now, and Connor couldn’t have been more relieved.

  * * *

  Dinner turned out to be far more relaxed than Olivia had expected, especially given the earlier strain between her and Connor. The awkwardness between them made an odd sort of sense. Although they shared a history and their families had been friends for generations, they were veritable strangers.

  Determined to keep the mood light, Olivia told stories about her life in Florida. She skimmed over the part about her job loss and breakup with her boyfriend. Instead, she focused on what she did when she had a rare day off.

  “I lived in Atlantic Beach, a small town just east of Jacksonville. My house was one block from the beach, so I spent a lot of time there.”

  “We’ve never seen the ocean,” Megan said on a sigh. Molly agreed with a solemn head bob, then asked, “Can you surf?”

  Olivia laughed. “Very poorly, but I can boogie-board.”

  “What’s that?” the girls asked at the same time.

  “A much simpler way to catch a wave. You lie flat on a short, foam slab and ride along on your belly. It’s sort of like...” she searched for a Colorado equivalent. “...sledding.”

  “Fun.”

  “Very.”

  “All right, girls, that’s enough questions for one night.” Picking up the near-empty casserole dish, Connor stood. “Time to clear the table and load the dishwasher.”

  Olivia hopped to her feet and reached for the dish in Connor’s hand. “Allow me.”

  “Absolutely not.” Connor held up a hand to ward off an argument. “You cooked. We clean.”

  “That’s the rule in the Mitchell household,” Molly told her, sounding very grown up.

  “Well, then, I guess that means I’m through for the day.”

  There was an awkward moment when everyone looked at everyone else.

  Then Megan hustled over to Olivia’s side. “You’re not leaving already, are you?”

  She smoothed a hand over the girl’s hair, affection swirling in her heart. “Not to worry, sweetie. I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”

  “But you can’t go yet. It’s Wednesday.”

  “What’s so special about Wednesday?” She aimed the question at Connor.

  “Movie night,” he explained, heading toward the sink, his hands full of more dirty dishes.

  “It’s my turn to pick the movie,” Molly declared. “And Daddy’s turn to make the snacks. He always goes with microwave popcorn. It’s a tradition.”

  Tradition. What a lovely word, one that told Olivia a lot about the man stacking dishes in the sink. She knew the kind of hours he worked, knew the challenges of his schedule even on a “slow” day. Yet he managed a weekly movie night with his daughters.

  Could Connor Mitchell get any more likable?

  “Well?” Molly demanded. “Are you watching the movie with us or not?”

  Tempting. But Olivia didn’t want to interject herself into valuable family time. “Maybe next week.”

  “Olivia.” Connor came back to the table, gathered up a handful of silverware. “You’re welcome to stay.”

  She studied his face, noted the sincerity in his eyes. “I don’t want to intrude—”

  “Stay,” he repeated. “Watch the movie with us. Afterward we can discuss your job duties.”

  They could do that now, before he settled in with the girls, but Olivia didn’t point that out. She actually wanted to spend more time with this family, wanted to get to know them on a deeper level.

  Dangerous territory.

  Or was it? How could she know how best to serve the girls beyond the day-to-day basics if she didn’t spend quality time with them?

  “All right.” She laughed when the girls cheered. “But you have to let me help with the snacks.”

  “Not going to happen.” Connor pointed her toward the family room. “It’s my job tonight.”

  Molly chose a full-length cartoon about a Scottish warrior princess. The snack was, as predicted, microwave popcorn.

  Sharing a bowl with Connor, Olivia realized she missed the simply enjoyment of a movie night with people she cared about. She hadn’t had a relaxing evening like this since...the night before she broke things off with Warner.

  He’d accused her of not wanting a traditional lifestyle. Olivia hadn’t disagreed with his accusation. Not because he was right. On the contrary, she desperately wanted marriage and a family of her own. What she didn’t want was marriage to a man who considered her a perfect match for his rigid requirements of a wife.

  Warner hadn’t loved Olivia. He hadn’t even wanted her in his life, not really. He’d only wanted a woman who would take care of his daughter on his court-ordered visitation weekends, a woman who had a career worthy of his respect and who, according to him, also looked good on his arm.

  Olivia had measured up, supposedly, but she knew any number of women would have taken her place in a heartbeat.

  Never again would she be a convenient addition to a man’s life. If she married, it would be to a man who loved her for her, not because she exemplified his ideal of the perfect wife.

  Hence her desire to focus on her own future and to switch careers before it was too late. Before she woke up and found herself staring down forty instead of thirty, with nothing to show for her life but a VP position at some bank.

  And that was enough deep thinking for one night.

  “You know what would make this movie even better?” she whispered to Connor, popping a very plain, very bland piece of popcorn into her mouth.

  Angling closer, his eyes still on the screen, he lowered his voice to match hers. “What’s that?”

  “Chocolate.”

  Chuckling softly, he turned to look at her. His expression was relaxed, approachable, the man behind the successful doctor and stressed-out single dad. “I’ve always argued that the FDA missed two important food groups.”

  Smiling like that, almost playfully, made Olivia think of the days when he’d been more boy than man and the center of a few teenage dreams. He’d grown more attractive through the years. He was so good-looking now, so masculine, so close. “Wha—what did they miss?”

  “Chocolate and coffee. Both deserve their own category. For obvious reasons.”

  “I like the way you think, Dr. Mitchell.”

  He chuckled. “And I like—”

  “Shhhhhh,” Molly ordered. “Here comes the best part.”

  The best part consisted of an archery tournament where the female heroine outshone all the men. The kid had excellent taste.

  After the movie, Connor sent the girls off to brush their teeth and get ready for bed while Olivia gathered up the empty bowls.

  “Can you hang around until I get the twins in bed?”

  She lifted a questioning gaze. “Because?”

  “We need to discuss your hours, job duties and payment.”

  “Sure, I can stay a little longer. Why don’t I take the puppy for a walk and you can join us outside when you’re done getting the girls settled in for the night?”

  “It’s a plan.” With a final smile in her direction, he followed after his daughters.

  When Olivia snapped the leash on Samson’s collar, he only struggled a little. Vast improvement.

  Outside, she breathed in the fresh Colorado air. The scent of pine was heavy tonight. The light breeze lifting the hair off her face carr
ied a slight chill. A refreshing change from the Florida heat and oppressive humidity.

  With the sound of clicking bugs and croaking frogs in her ears, she guided the puppy along a grassy pathway bordering a small pond. The sky overhead was dotted with sparkling diamonds against the inky fabric of the night. “Beautiful,” she whispered.

  The back door creaked on its hinges mere seconds before Connor came up behind her.

  “I missed the Colorado nights,” she said, her gaze still lifted to the sky. “But I didn’t realize how much until I came home.”

  “I know what you mean.” His fingers brushed lightly over hers as he took Samson’s leash. “When I was in medical school I couldn’t wait to return.”

  “You attended Tulane, right? In New Orleans?”

  “That’s right.” He looked out across the pond, his gaze as distant as the lone, soulful coyote cry weaving through the night air. “Hottest summers on the planet.”

  “Florida was equally miserable.”

  They walked in companionable silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts. “Connor—”

  “Olivia—” he began at the same time.

  They laughed awkwardly.

  “You first,” she said.

  He stopped walking, turned to face her. “The girls made sure I knew they had a good day today and asked how long you’re staying with us. I told them until Carlotta’s knee healed.”

  Olivia liked the sound of that. “Your daughters are amazing.”

  “I think so.”

  His candid response dragged another laugh out of her, the sound far less uneasy than before. “What time do you want me to come back in the morning?”

  “Eight too early?”

  Her days at the bank had started before seven. “Easy.”

  They hashed out the rest of the details of her employment as they wound their way around the pond. Connor added, “Ethan and I alternate the extended evening and weekend hours. I’ll need you to cover for me here when it’s my turn at the office.”

  “That’ll be fine. I’ll put a calendar in the kitchen so you can mark the appropriate days to avoid any confusion.”

  “Good idea.”

  They fell into a companionable silence and resumed walking.