Falling for Her Army Doc

by Dianne Drake

  Mateo scooted a little closer to Lizzie, not so much that she would notice, but he certainly did.

  “Then wax the board. It should already be waxed, but I prefer waxing myself since it’s essential to getting a good grip.”

  “The whole board?” he asked, even though his mind was more on applying sunscreen to her entire body.

  “No. Just the top and bottom third, and the edges.”

  “For a good grip?” he asked.

  He was wishing this was more than a simple bodyboarding lesson. Not that he would or could take it anywhere. But something about Lizzie caused him to realize how much he’d missed these past years, and how much he’d forgotten. Smooth skin against his. The touch of delicate fingers. Soft kisses turning wild.

  He was putting last night on mental replay and wondering how he was going to manage for the next month. Thinking like this wasn’t doing him any good, but he was sure enjoying it. Especially since the object of his attraction—and maybe more—was Lizzie.

  He’d never cared much for red hair before; he did remember that. But her red hair ignited him. And getting involved with another doctor... That had definitely been off his list, since he knew the ins and outs of that intimately. But he was no longer a doctor, and even if he were it wouldn’t matter. Not with Lizzie sitting beside him and their thighs brushing together.

  “For staying afloat. Oh, you didn’t get yourself a rash guard. Some people like them, because they reduce chafing from the board itself, but maybe that won’t bother you.”

  It wouldn’t. Especially if she treated any rash he might get.

  “Personally, I like the contact with the board. It gives me a better feel for what I’m doing.”

  “And the swim fins? The girl at the beach shop said I had to have them.”

  “Definitely, yes. They’ll help you paddle out farther, so you can catch better waves. Oh, and the leash...it attaches to your wrist.”

  “Seems like an awful lot of trouble just to catch a wave.”

  “It is—but there’s no sensation like it in the world, no matter if you’re vertical or horizontal. So, did she sell you a helmet? Black with red stripes?”

  “She did.”

  “And...?”

  “And I’ll wear it, Lizzie. OK? I’ll wear the damned helmet.”

  He might have argued more with her, but she was so into the moment and he didn’t want to break that. She looked beautiful—her eyes sparkling, a slight blush to her cheeks. This was Lizzie in her element, and he was enjoying being there with her even if he didn’t so much as get the bottoms of his feet wet.

  “Excellent. So, gear up and let’s do it. Wade out until you’re knee-deep, then put your belly to the board and keep your hips in contact with the tail of the board.”

  “And my hands?”

  He knew where he wanted to put them, but what he wanted and what she wanted were two different things. Still, he could almost feel her hands skimming down the side of his body, like they had done the night before...

  “Top corners of the board. Make sure you keep your fins under water, then paddle out—one-handed or two, doesn’t make a difference—until you see the wave you want to catch. For starters, we’re going to catch some smaller ones.”

  This was getting serious. He needed to get his mind back on what he was about to do, otherwise his amateur performance would turn into a clown show because he’d missed one or two vital steps. Of course, mouth-to-mouth from Lizzie sounded pretty good, if that was what it came down to. Especially now that he knew the secrets of her mouth...

  “When you do see a wave, point your board toward the beach and start to kick and paddle. The wave will do the rest.”

  “Sounds simple enough,” he said, looking down the beach at all kinds of people surfing and bodyboarding.

  He’d been an adventurer. He remembered that. Remembered scaling rock walls, paragliding, even some dangerous sledding in there. Straight downhill, hoping to avoid the trees and the other sledders. But this? It scared him. Not because of the risk, but because he was, like she’d told him, vulnerable. He didn’t know if his adventurous side would come back or if he’d turn into one of those people he could see from where he was, who paddled out and simply sat there on the board, too afraid to move.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Lizzie said.

  “I do,” he replied, taking off his blue floral print shirt. “In more ways than you know.”

  To prove it to himself and—more—to prove it to her. That was important...showing Lizzie that side of him—the side that wasn’t a patient, that wasn’t vulnerable, that wasn’t so damned disagreeable. It mattered more than he’d thought it could.

  Finally, after another mental bout with himself, he slipped the fins on his feet, grabbed his board, and walked to the water’s edge. Lizzie was right there next to him, and he found some strength in having her there. But he hadn’t always been this way. That much he remembered.

  “It’s a simple thing,” he said. “I’ve done much more dangerous things than this. Yet I’m not sure I’m ready to take the next step.”

  “It’s not easy, facing your fears,” she said, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze, followed by a tender kiss to his cheek. “Especially when you might not even know what they are until they pop up out of nowhere.”

  “What scares you?” he asked, looking out over the wide expanse of water.

  “Lots of things. Making a medical mistake with one of my patients. That may be my biggest fear, because people rely on me, and if I do something to let them down, or even worse...” She shut her eyes briefly, then shook her head. “Horseback riding. Got thrown when I was a little girl and broke some bones in my back. It wasn’t a huge trauma, but to this day I’ve never been back on a horse. Oh, and spiders. You haven’t heard a good scream until you’ve heard me scream when I find a spider on me—or even near me. And some of the spiders here on Oahu are enormous. Like the cane spider.”

  She gestured, indicating something larger than a dinner plate, which was an obvious exaggeration, and just saying the word caused her to shiver.

  It was a cute display, and something he hadn’t expected from her. His version of Lizzie taking on the world had just knocked itself down a peg and he liked seeing that side of her. It made him realize that she had her own vulnerabilities, and that he wouldn’t be standing out there alone on that sandbar he could see in the distance, holding on to his own bag of insecurities.

  Mateo chuckled. “Well, I’ll protect you from spiders if you protect me from myself.”

  “Do you need to be protected from yourself?” she asked.

  He took a step into the water, then paused. “If I knew the answer to that I’d tell you.”

  Then he gathered up every bit of courage inside him and marched out until he was submerged to mid-chest. Lizzie followed him and immediately mounted her board, then waited for Mateo to do the same.

  “This isn’t too bad,” he said, once he was belly-down on the board.

  “Paddle around for a few minutes. Get used to the feel of it. Sometimes it’s nice to just float for a while and let your mind wander.”

  “Do you do that?”

  “Not so much now,” she said, paddling over until her board was next to his. “I did when my dad was alive. He was...difficult. Sometimes it felt like I was failing him even though the doctor in me knew what was happening to him.”

  She paused for a moment, then continued.

  “For me, the ocean has curative powers. When I was a little girl, traveling around with my dad, there were several times we lived near a beach. I think that’s where I found my balance.”

  “So Hawaii was a logical place to come?”

  “Actually, I lived here before, when I was a teenager. Dad was getting older, and thinking about retirement in a few years, so he transferred to one of the military ho
spitals here. It was the first time I ever had much of him in my life—which is one of the reasons I came back when he was diagnosed. Some of my best memories were here, and I remembered how much he’d loved it here as well.”

  “I’m from a little village in Mexico. The people there were poor. My mother was poor, too, and there wasn’t enough work for her. Yet she got a sponsor in California, from one of the humanitarian groups, so we came to the States legally and she achieved her dream—which was to see me succeed.”

  “And now?” Lizzie asked.

  “When I’m ready to travel I’m going back. My mother has the right to know what’s happened, since she was a large part of my motivation. It’s not going to be easy to tell her, though.

  Lizzie laid her hand on his arm and squeezed. “So often the right things aren’t. But she’ll be glad to know that you’re safe, and basically in good shape.”

  “Maybe you’d like to come with me?”

  “I might... Mexico is one place I’ve never been.”

  The almost-promise made his heart skip a beat. But taking Lizzie home to meet his mother would be no small deal. The people in the village would throw parties, and sing and dance halfway through the night. There would be piles of food, amazing drinks—and all because Margarita’s boy was bringing a woman home. Lizzie would love it, he thought.

  “If you go with me, prepare yourself for the biggest party you’ve ever been to—all in your honor.”

  “My honor?”

  “They’re a friendly bunch of people. What can I say?”

  He wasn’t about to tell her that taking her to meet his mother would be as good as a wedding announcement. They weren’t ready for that yet. There were still issues to be resolved.

  “So, you want to go catch a wave with me now?”

  He took in a deep breath. “The waves really are calming, aren’t they?”

  “And they’re calling my name. Mind if I...?”

  “Do your thing, Lizzie. I’ll be right behind you.” Enjoying a view he was pretty sure he wanted to enjoy for the rest of his life.

  In preparation to catch a good wave she paddled out a little farther, and found the perfect one that carried her almost all the way back to the shore. It seemed so natural for her. And for him? Well...he paddled out, like she did, found his wave, aimed his board, and rode the wave as best he could, weaving and bobbing in and out of the water until he almost hit shore.

  “Wasn’t as graceful as you,” he said, spitting out a mouthful of saltwater as he stood and grabbed his board. “But that was fun. Thank you.”

  Lizzie smiled at him. “All part of the service offered to my houseguests. Want to go again?”

  “How about I sit here and watch you go again?”

  “Whatever you want,” she said, turning and walking back into the water.

  Mateo shut his eyes as the headache overtook him again. It had come and gone for days now, but this one was excruciating, pounding harder and harder, until suddenly everything around him was spinning. The sky, the sand, the water. Himself.

  He turned to look for Lizzie, who was just emerging from the water, and waved her over.

  “Migraine,” he said as she approached.

  The brightness of the sun was bothering him. And a wave of nausea pounded him so hard he fell backwards into the sand.

  “Not good, Lizzie,” he managed to gasp as she dropped to her knees next to him. “Not good at all.”

  “Has this happened before?” she asked as she felt for his pulse.

  “Yes, but not as bad.”

  “And you didn’t bother mentioning it?”

  “It’s a headache. Everybody gets them.”

  * * *

  She pulled back his eyelids and studied his eyes for a moment, wishing she had her medical bag. His pupillary response was sluggish, and the size from right to left varied, but not by much. It was clear something was wrong, but she couldn’t risk leaving him here like this to go get her medical bag.

  He grasped her hand. “I think I might be in trouble here,” he said, holding on tight.

  “I need to get you to the hospital so we can get a scan to see what’s going on.”

  “For a freaking migraine?” he snapped, then clearly instantly regretted his tone of voice. “Just let me stay here and I’ll be better in a few minutes.”

  “Unless it’s not a simple migraine. I mean, I don’t think it’s a stroke, nor is some kind of neuro inflammation at the top of my list, but it could be another clot. Most definitely you’ve got some changes in brain activity that underlie the chronic pain you’ve been having, and my best guess—which is all I have at the moment—is that it’s connected to your earlier brain trauma. So I can leave you here in the sand and hope it doesn’t advance to another level, like a stroke, or I can get you to the hospital to see what’s really going on. Your choice, Mateo.”

  “You know...that’s the thing I most dislike about doctors. They take it to the limit.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “It’s a migraine. I’ve diagnosed them and treated them. But you’re thinking way beyond that, aren’t you?”

  “That’s why they pay me the big bucks. I’m very good at thinking way beyond what’s normal or necessary.”

  He laughed, then moaned and grabbed his head. “Look, Lizzie. I appreciate the concern, but it’s a stinking headache. That’s all.”

  “I hope you’re right about that, but in case you’re not are you sure you want me to walk away and leave you with an unconfirmed diagnosis?”

  She moved closer to him, took his hand, and bent down to kiss him on the lips.

  Just before the kiss, she whispered, “I really don’t want to lose you, Mateo, and it’s not because I’m a doctor who hates losing patients. It’s because I’m a woman who doesn’t want to lose the man she’s falling in love with.”

  She still needed to figure out how that would play out, as none of her feelings of trepidation had changed. But that was a discussion for another day. Right now, all she wanted was to get Mateo better.

  “And if you make the wrong decision and I walk away...it would break my heart. I don’t want that happening and I don’t deserve it.”

  That much was true.

  That she loved him was also true.

  “Get me to the hospital and give me the scan,” he said, trying to open his eyes, but failing, as if the sun nauseated him. “Do whatever you think needs to be done.”

  Blowing out a sigh of relief, Lizzie made the call, then sat there holding his hand while they waited.

  One thing was sure. A life with Mateo wouldn’t always be smooth. But it would always be good. And she hoped they could get to that point. Because after Mateo there wouldn’t be anybody else. For all his stubborn ways, he was the only one she wanted.

  When the time was right, she’d tell him. But there were issues to work out before any kind of commitment could be made, and those issues scared her. Neither of them came to this relationship unscathed. Two wounded people... Could that work?

  * * *

  “Are you going to hold my hand when they send me through that long tube of extreme claustrophobia?” he asked.

  They were in the changing room and he was expected to put on one of those hideous gowns.

  “Seriously? You’re claustrophobic?”

  “Maybe a little.”

  She tied him modestly into the green and blue gown he hated so much, then gave him a blanket to spread over his lap as they wheeled him down the hall—in a wheelchair—for his tests.

  “I always tell my patients the best thing for that is a shot of vodka—after the procedure.”

  “Hate the stuff,” he said, reaching out to take Lizzie’s hand once they were in the waiting room.

  “Sex works, too,” she whispered. “Depending on the diagnosis.”

 
; “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  Lizzie was worried and trying to hide it. He could see her struggle. She wasn’t very good at hiding her expressions from him.

  “It’s going to be a migraine, pure and simple. You do know that, don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t.” Lizzie sat next to Mateo, holding his hand as the technicians prepared him for a CT scan. “Look, this isn’t going to take long, then if nothing shows we can go home and you can spend the rest of the day sleeping. Now, I’m going to run down to Janis’s office for a minute and have a quick chat with her, if you don’t mind?”

  “Go,” he whispered, as if the sound of his own voice hurt him.

  “Two minutes—tops,” she said, bending over the hard, flat CT table to give him a kiss. “I’ll be right back.”

  * * *

  She hated leaving him there, but there was nothing else she could do. She needed distance, and a couple of minutes to sort out her feelings. And some reassurance.

  “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?” said Janis, joining Lizzie, who was leaning on the wall outside the CT room.

  “Depends on your definition of ‘bad,’” Lizzie said. “Do I have feelings for him? Yes. What kind of feelings? Not the kind I should be having. Oh, and he didn’t want to have this CT,” she said.

  “Did it occur to you that the man is so scared he doesn’t know what he’s doing? I mean, to look at him you’d never guess that, but Mateo is...different. He’s a healer who can no longer heal. He has no home, no place to go, no plans for his future. If I were in his shoes, I’d be scared, too.”

  “I think he wanted to die.”

  “He wants to live, Lizzie. He just doesn’t know how. If he had a death wish he wouldn’t have showed up on your doorstep. To Mateo, you offer hope. And loving him the way I’m pretty sure you do is an added bonus he didn’t count on. So give the guy some slack. Back off when he needs it, and stay close when that’s what he wants.”