A Kiss, A Dance & A Diamond. Helen Lacey

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СКАЧАТЬ kept walking.

      There was a dark-haired boy standing at her side, his arms crossed, and another, younger child sitting on the edge of the bed. Her nephews. It was common knowledge that she’d inherited custody of her brother’s two kids upon his death. Kieran took a breath, put on his best physician’s face and walked towards them.

      “Nicola,” he said quietly. “Hello.”

      She turned her head and met his gaze. The resentment was still there, burning bright in her lush brown eyes. He saw the pulse in her throat beating wildly as she spoke. “Dr. O’Sullivan.”

      Nothing else. There was no welcome in her voice. Nothing other than cool resentment. And the way she called him doctor made that resentment abundantly clear.

      He plastered a smile on his face. “It’s good to see you, Nic.”

      Big mistake. She clearly didn’t want to be reminded of the way he used to call her Nic because she glared at him, pressing her lips together. Kieran watched as she swallowed hard, with her arms crossed so tightly they might snap.

      One of her steeply arched eyebrows rose a fraction. “I thought Dr. Wright was on duty tonight?”

      Of course. She wouldn’t have come to the ER if she suspected Kieran would be there. And she obviously knew he’d started working at the hospital. News traveled fast in Cedar River. Kieran half shrugged. “She’ll be here later,” he explained and moved around the bed. “I’m on a double shift because we’re down a doctor this week. I finish up in three hours.” He felt her scrutiny down to his bones. “So...let’s see what’s going on with your nephew’s hand,” he said, getting the conversation back on track.

      “I hooked myself,” the child on the bed muttered, holding up his clumsily bandaged hand, his eyes downcast. “See?”

      “He was messing around,” the older boy said and looked toward his aunt. “I told him to stop.”

      “I was not!” his brother said hotly and waved his hand and then yelped in pain. “You said I couldn’t cast my line and you kept laughing.”

      “You were casting like a girl,” the older Radici brother said. “And into a bucket in the backyard. That’s not even real casting. You can’t do anything.”

      “I can so!”

      “You’re such a baby,” the older boy said.

      Kieran looked at Nicola and saw that she was frowning.

      “Johnny,” she scolded. “Please don’t make things worse.”

      The older boy had a scowl so deep it creased his forehead. He shrugged. “I’m gonna sit over there.”

      Kieran smiled to himself. It would be exactly the same conversation he might once have had with his own brothers when they were kids. He watched as Johnny shuffled sulkily across the triage zone and plunked into a chair, then took a gaming console out of his small backpack, shoved plugs into his ears and ignored all of them.

      Kieran looked at the younger child. “You know, when we were kids, my brother Liam always said I couldn’t fish as well as he could. I was younger, and my arms weren’t as long as his. But you know what? I grew up taller than him.”

      The boy looked at him for the first time and his eyes widened. “You did?”

      “Yep,” Kieran replied and grinned. “And now I’m a way better fisherman than he is.”

      “Really?” he asked, looking pensive.

      “Really,” Kieran assured him.

      The boy shrugged. “It’s not really fishing. It’s just a bucket and some plastic toys.”

      “Well,” Kieran said as he moved around the bed and dropped the clipboard onto it. “Maybe you’ll get so good you can do it for real sometime.”

      Kieran saw a kind of wary panic cross the child’s face, and he looked quickly toward Nicola. She glanced sideways, and he saw her shake her head slightly. He sensed something was wrong but didn’t comment further. Instead, he washed his hands in the sink, pulled on a pair of gloves and then gently placed the boy’s wrapped hand on a small rolling table. “Okay, let’s see what you’ve done. First, though, you better tell me your name.”

      “Marco,” he muttered, his lip wobbling.

      “Okay, Marco,” Kieran said and began to unwrap the makeshift bandage. “Let’s do this.”

      The boy whimpered a little, calming when Nicola moved forward and grasped his other hand. Kieran tried not to think about how it was the closest he’d been to her in fifteen years. Or about how he could pick up the scent of her vanilla shampoo over the antiseptic that usually lingered in the air. The scent was suddenly so familiar it made him glance sideways.

      She wasn’t looking at him, though. Her attention was focused solely on her nephew.

      He could see how she was slightly biting her bottom lip and remembered how she used to do that when she was deep in thought, like when they’d been studying together back in high school. Of course, studying usually turned into making out, which often led to more. Back then he’d been crazy for her, mad for her beautiful hair, sexy curves and warm brown eyes. A typical horny teenage boy who couldn’t get enough of his first real girlfriend. Back then, in the three years they’d dated, Kieran was sure he and Nicola would go the distance, that they’d go to college, travel the world, get married one day, have a family. But that was a kid’s dream. Because the moment Nicola had suggested they get engaged before they headed off to college, he’d freaked out. He’d felt trapped and afraid that settling down so young would derail his career. And he’d never quite forgiven himself for hurting her the way he had.

      And, clearly, she hadn’t, either.

      There were tears in Marco’s eyes, and Kieran focused his attention on the child. He was a quiet sort of kid, clearly in pain, but trying to be brave. “You know, if you want to say ouchywowah, you can.”

      The child’s eyes widened. “Ouchy, what?”

      “Ouchywowah,” Kieran said and finished unwrapping the bandage. “Saying it three times helps make the pain go away. But you have to say it quietly,” he explained, not daring to look at Nicola. “Like, in a whisper...or it doesn’t work.”

      “Really?”

      “Really,” Kieran assured him and smiled to himself as the boy began chanting the word over and over. Silly as it was, it seemed to help Marco concentrate on something other than his injury and, ten minutes later, Kieran had removed the fishing hook impaled between Marco’s fingers, cleaned and stitched the injury and ordered some pain medication. He left the nurse to dress the young boy’s hand, while he did something he didn’t want to do: speak to Nicola—alone.

      “I’ve arranged for a scrip for some painkillers you can fill at the hospital pharmacy, and I’d like to see him again in a few days, to make sure he’s free from infection,” he explained as they walked through triage, away from the two boys and through to the waiting room outside.

      Other than her nephews, the nurse on duty in triage and a couple of nurses in the reception area, the place was empty, СКАЧАТЬ