A Mistletoe Kiss for the Single Dad Read online

  As they headed into the chilly mid-December night, Nick eyed Belle’s stiletto pumps with trepidation. Seemed she’d forgotten what winters could be like here in Michigan. Sure enough, as they trudged across the slick pavement, her feet slipped, and she clutched his arm like a lifeline.

  “You need boots.”

  “I have boots. They’re in my suitcase inside the funeral home.” She stiffened beside him and released his arm, clutching her coat tighter around herself. “I’ll be sure to wear them tomorrow.”

  He shook his head. Her coat probably cost more than his house and all its contents. When he’d been at the top of the pediatric surgery ladder in Atlanta, he’d seen plenty of women dressed to the nines in designer duds. Hell, he’d worn his share of tuxes back then too. Now, though, he dressed for comfort. He’d moved back to Bayside a year and a half ago, given up his high-pressure lifestyle and all the stress along with it, and wouldn’t change his decision for the world. Connor was better off with fresh air and room to grow. Losing his wife, Vicki, had been hard on both of them, but Bayside was home.

  Always had been. Always would be. At least for him.

  He hunched farther down inside his wool coat and turned the collar up against the brisk wind now rolling in off Lake Michigan. Weathermen predicted snow tonight, from what he’d heard on the radio on his way over to the funeral.

  Belle slipped again. He reached for her elbow, but she pulled away. “I’ve got it.”

  “Yeah. I can see that.”

  He stifled a grin at her peeved glare.

  Connor walked along ahead of them, oblivious.

  “Don’t cross the street by yourself, son,” Nick called. “Wait for us.”

  Belle gave him some serious side-eye at the same time his son gave him a perturbed stare.

  “He’s eight, right?” she asked.

  “Yes.” Nick bristled at her judgmental tone. Fine. Maybe Connor was old enough to start doing things on his own, but Nick wasn’t there yet. He was trying, but his son was growing up—far faster than Nick wanted sometimes—and guilt lingered in his heart. He did his best to be both mom and dad to Connor, but there were only so many hours in a day and it was just the two of them. Besides, Belle had no right to question his parenting style. Still, in an effort to keep the peace he swallowed the words he wanted to say and instead pointed to a redbrick building across the street on the corner. “Diner’s over there.”

  “I know where Pat’s is.” Belle’s tone snapped with affront. So much for not arguing. “I’m from here, remember?”

  “Figured you forgot. Kind of like your boots.”

  She glared at him, her green eyes glittering in the dim streetlight.

  The three of them crossed the street and pushed inside the restaurant. Pat Randall—the diner’s proud owner for over thirty years—waved to Nick from behind the counter, oblivious to the tension pulsating around them like a force field. “Hey, Doc. Con.”

  A few other patrons were eating a late dinner there too, probably having wandered over after Marlene’s service. Some were his patients, like little Analia Hernandez and her family. She was the same age as Connor and would’ve been in his class at school, but she’d been born with Crouzon syndrome, a rare genetic condition that had caused the bones of her skull to fuse prematurely. There was no mental deficiency associated with the disorder, thank goodness, but the concave shape of her midface did contribute to the little girl’s breathing issues. Still, Analia was happy and confident, always quick with a grin and brimming with curiosity. Analia raised a hand at Connor as they passed their table. “Hey, Con.”

  “Hey, Ana.” Con waved back.

  They took a table near the far wall and Belle sat gingerly, like the whole place might blow up in her face. Nick sat in the chair beside Connor’s, across from Belle, and raked a hand through his hair, his appetite buried under the uncomfortable feelings stirred by seeing Belle again after all these years. With her living out in California, it had been easier for him to keep her as more of an abstract notion in his head.

  A woman, the woman, from his past. Always there, but quarantined, like a dangerous virus that could easily hijack his system. Now, though, with her back in Bayside, even temporarily, he was forced to reconcile the promise he’d made to Vicki with reality. He’d let Belle go back in high school and obviously she’d moved on and done well for herself. She’d left Bayside and him behind eighteen years ago and hadn’t looked back since. He should be happy, overjoyed, well and truly done with it all.

  Why then did his heart pinch a little each time he caught sight of Belle now?

  Must be stress. Had to be. He’d headed to Marlene’s funeral directly after spending sixteen hours in his clinic and he had another full schedule tomorrow. Maybe Belle had been correct. Maybe they should have put this conversation off until he’d gotten some sleep, had some peace and quiet to get his life in order again.

  Except deep down he knew it wouldn’t change anything.

  Work. Connor. Home.

  Those were his driving forces now.

  The only things that mattered.

  Dinner with Belle, anything to do with Belle really, shouldn’t be on his radar.

  Other than reopening the free clinic one last time. He owed that to Marlene, even if it would be about as much fun as a root canal.

  “What can I get you folks to drink?” Pat asked, setting three glasses of water on the table.

  Belle perused her choices, frowning. “Do you have anything organic?”

  “Uh...we’ve got tea.”

  “Is it green?”

  “Brown, last time I checked.” Pat chuckled. “Unless it’s gone bad.”

  “I’ll stick with water, thank you,” Belle said, her expression dour.

  “Sure thing.” Pat jotted something on his little pad, then grinned. “So great to see you again, Belle. I’m so sorry about what happened to Marlene.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Randall.”

  “Please, call me Pat. We’re like family around here.”

  She nodded, then went back to looking at her menu.

  Nick cleared his throat. “Con and I will have sodas, Pat.”

  “Cherry flavor in those?”

  “Of course.” Nick winked at his son.

  “Be right back.” Pat walked away, leaving them alone again.

  Even beneath the diner’s fluorescent lights, Belle’s auburn hair still glowed like wildfire. A trait she and her aunt had shared. Her mom too, if Nick remembered right. Of course, he’d only been eight too when her parents had died in a car accident. The whole town had turned out for their funeral, as well. He pictured little Belle back then, sitting alone on Marlene’s porch, not crying, not scared, just sort of oddly stoic.

  Kind of like she was now.

  Belle leaned closer to him, close enough for him to catch a hint of scent—something fresh and floral with a hint of mint. “You don’t let him order his own food either? How controlling of you.”

  “Remind me again when you became a parenting expert?” He clasped his hands on the table, all traces of tenderness toward Belle vanishing. Connor’s well-being was his top priority in life. Period. Amen. He’d promised Vicki he’d take care of their son and he intended to keep that vow. He changed subjects to safer territory. “How’s California?”

  “Sunny.” Her phone continued buzzing like an angry bee.

  “Can’t you just turn that thing off while we eat?” he asked her. “Don’t you have an answering service to field calls when you’re out of the office?”

  “Yes.” Her green eyes flashed again with annoyance. “My boss is trying to reach me.”

  “Here we are, folks.” Pat returned with their drinks. “What are we having for dinner?”

  “Connor and I will split a burger and fries. Cheese, no onion. Medium-well.”

  “Great.�
� Pat wrote down his order. “And for you, Belle?”

  “I’ll have the house salad. No cheese or croutons. Dressing on the side. Fat-free Italian. Hold the bread stick too.”

  “Or you could just bring her a cardboard box, Pat. It’ll be just as tasty,” Nick said.

  The two men chuckled, and she gave them an impassive stare.

  “While I always appreciate your culinary opinions, Nick, I’ll stick with what’s healthy.” She jammed her menu back into the holder and gave Pat a cool smile. “And could I have a lemon wedge for my water? Thank you.”

  Pat left, shaking his head.

  “Are your parents still in town?” Belle asked as she unbelted her expensive coat to reveal the equally expensive tailored suit beneath, all sharp lines and jagged edges. So different from the cute, geeky girl he’d fallen in love with back in high school. Gone were her soft heart and pretty curves, her lilting giggles as they’d dreamed about taking the medical world by storm, like all those TV doctors on their favorite shows.

  Nope. Not going there.

  He shoved away the pang of nostalgia welling inside him for the kids they’d once been—so young, so idealistic, so naive—and took a deep breath. The air filled with the smell of grease and the sizzle of frying meat.

  What had happened between them in the past didn’t matter.

  What mattered was the here and now.

  “No. They moved to Florida right after Dad retired a few years back.”

  He glanced across the diner at the Hernandez family, laughing and talking, and yearned to join their relaxed group. Juan and his family had moved to Bayside about a month after Nick and Connor. Juan had transferred to the auto plant nearby from a factory near Guaymas, Mexico. After a bit of a rocky start with learning the language and resettling in a new country, they’d become a beloved part of the community, with little Analia basically having the run of Bayside. Good thing too, since the auto plant had been closed now and Juan was out of work and couldn’t afford to move his family back to Mexico. The community had rallied around them, making sure they had food and clothes and enough money to survive on. Juan was also working construction to make ends meet while his wife tutored high-school kids in Spanish.

  “Do you know them?” Belle asked, watching the Hernandez family, as well.

  “I do. Their daughter is a patient of mine,” he said. “Why?”

  “No reason.” She shrugged and fiddled with her napkin. “Crouzon’s?”

  “Yep.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Con’s age.”

  “She should be ready for the second phase of her surgery soon,” Belle said, all animosity between them gone as they discussed medicine. Funny how that worked.

  “She is, but it’s expensive. Analia’s father lost his job and I’ve been working to get their case taken on pro bono by a colleague of mine in Detroit, but so far the paperwork is still tied up.” Nick sighed and sipped his cherry cola. “They’re doing the best they can. Analia’s happy.”

  “Is she?” Belle glanced at the little girl again, then looked away. “Let’s get back to discussing the free clinic. It’s why we’re here.”

  “The first thing we need to do is get into there and assess the state of things,” he said, forcing an ease he didn’t quite feel. “I’ll call my PA tonight and tell her the situation. See if she can handle the patient load tomorrow by herself until we can work out a schedule.”

  “If repairs need to be made, we’ll have to hire someone. Might be hard to get the work done on such short notice.” Belle surveyed the interior of the diner as she spoke, and he tried to see it through her eyes. Far from the pristine interiors of Rodeo Drive, Pat’s looked like a thrift store had exploded—local knickknacks and memorabilia covering every square inch of wall space.

  “Juan Hernandez might be able to help. He does good work.” He’d helped renovate the house Nick had bought after returning to Bayside. “I’ll ask him if he can stop in tomorrow and take a look.” Nick glanced at the calendar on the wall, donated courtesy of the local volunteer fire department. “If we get started in the morning, that gives us eight days until Christmas Eve.”

  “Fine. But this is all still contingent on my boss granting me an extension on my bereavement leave.” She folded her hands atop the table, prim as a church lady on Sunday.

  Pat set their plates down a few minutes later. “Dinner is served. Enjoy.”

  Nick thanked him then divided the huge burger in two and put half on Con’s plate, along with half the fries, then reached for the ketchup and mustard, noticing Belle picking through her salad. “Are you going to eat your food or sort it to death?”

  “I want to make sure there’s no cheese or croutons hidden in here.”

  “You ordered it without and I’m sure Pat fixed it that way.”

  She kept picking and he rolled his eyes.

  Belle turned her attention to Connor instead. “What do you like to do for fun?”

  His son swallowed a fry, ketchup smeared on his cheek. “I play hockey.”

  “Really?” She gave Nick a surprised look. “So, you won’t let him cross the street or order for himself, but you let him go out on the ice and risk life and limb over a puck?”

  “Hockey is a very safe sport,” Nick ground out, a muscle pulsating near his tense jaw. “The coach supervises the team at all times and takes every precaution to ensure the kids’ safety. Besides, I played when I was his age. It’s good exercise and the team-building skills he learns are essential for later in life.” He gave her arch stare, as if challenging her to contradict him. For reasons he didn’t want to contemplate, he wanted to get a rise out of her. Disrupt that cool exterior of hers and get her as riled up as he felt inside. “If you’re so concerned for my son’s well-being, Connor’s got his last game for the year the day before Christmas Eve in Manistee. Come with us and check it out.”

  The moment the words left his mouth he wanted to take them back. Spending more time around Belle than what he’d already be doing to get the free clinic ready wasn’t a good idea.

  Thankfully, she turned him down anyway. “I’m sure I’ll be busy preparing to reopen the clinic, but I appreciate the invitation.”

  Nick exhaled slowly, feeling like he’d dodged a major bullet. He chewed his burger without tasting it, glancing over to find Connor fiddling with his tablet again. Normally he banned devices at the dinner table and was about to tell his son to stow the electronics away then hesitated.

  Controlling. Belle’s description rubbed him wrong in all the worst place. He wasn’t controlling. He was doing the best he could here, dammit.

  So, instead, he bit back the reprimand for Connor and swallowed it down with another swig of cherry soda. One night of web surfing during dinner wouldn’t hurt anything, right?

  Belle continued nibbling her food like she was at some fancy society luncheon and not Bayside’s best greasy spoon. Nick wasn’t fooled by her pretension, though. She must’ve forgotten he’d seen her covered with mashed potatoes and dripping with cheesy macaroni after a particularly heinous food fight in the school cafeteria. Regardless of their years apart, he knew the real Belle—even if that girl now seemed buried deeper than his beloved Vicki and the future they’d planned. After Connor had been born, he’d dreamed of having more children, more family vacations, more time to just enjoy the life he and Vicki had built together. They’d not married for love, but over their time together their friendship had grown into something better—affection, support, loyalty, trust. Rare and valuable things these days. Vicki had been his go-to person for talking out his problems and sharing his victories. He’d even told her about Belle. In the big and the small ways, he and Vicki had been there for each other. Without her, he’d done his best to manage on his own, charging forward, putting one foot in front of the other each day, doing what had to be done.

  Life
had gone on. Different than he’d expected, but onward just the same.

  “After I talk to my boss tonight, I’ll come up with a list of tasks for you to handle and a schedule so we can make sure nothing gets missed,” Belle said, jarring him back to the present.

  Nick snorted and shook his head, focusing on his exhaustion and the grumpiness it caused, because if he didn’t, he’d be too vulnerable, too raw, and that was unacceptable. “Just like old times.”

  “Excuse me?” Belle paused in midbite and gave him a fractious look.

  “You were always bossing everyone around,” he said matter-of-factly, knowing he was pushing her buttons.

  “I am not bossy.” She put down her fork, her movement stiff. “I simply try to show people better ways of doing things.”

  “Sounds bossy to me.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Make me.”

  And just like that they were kids again, back in Marlene’s clinic, him teasing the pretty girl who’d always seemed way out of his league. Melancholy squeezed his heart again and he looked away. Dammit. He was tired, yes, but the funeral had really thrown him. He hated funerals. They always reminded him of Vicki.

  They ate the rest of their meal in silence. Once they’d finished, he waited while Pat cleared their plates then tried his best to get back to normal, even though normal seemed a thousand miles away at present. “We get started in the morning, then?”

  “Yes. Pending my boss’s approval.” She stood and slipped her coat on then belted it up. “I’ll meet you in front of the clinic in the morning at nine. If something changes, I’ll call you. I have your number.”

  Nick swiped the check before she could, flashing what he hoped was a polite smile. “My treat, Belle. We’re partners now. You need a ride to your aunt’s place?”

  “No. I got a rental at the airport in Lansing.” Belle lifted her chin and walked toward the exit, saying over her shoulder, “Thank you for dinner. Bye, Connor.”

  Nick lingered after she left. “You want pie, Con?”

  His son grinned. “With ice cream?”

  “Of course.” Nick hailed Pat and ordered dessert while Analia wandered over to take the seat vacated by Belle.