One Great Christmas Love Story
Kaylee Baldwin
Copyright © 2019 by Kaylee Baldwin
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
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Invitation
One Great Christmas Love Story
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Also by Kaylee Baldwin
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Invitation
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One Great Christmas Love Story
One Great Christmas Love Story
Cardiologist Holly Whitacre wishes she could bypass the entire Christmas season and its painful memories. She’d rather focus on discovering real-life love stories to spotlight on her MyHeartChannel show: One Great Love Story, especially since she donates all her proceeds to the free clinic her late-husband started. When Holly learns that the clinic has lost official funding, she’s determined to think creatively, even if it means turning to the Scroogiest doctor on staff, Jack Shay.
The last thing Jack wants to do is run the clinic’s annual Christmas Ball Fundraiser, but the clinic needs the donations more than ever. Besides, he’s never been able to tell Holly no. So when Holly ropes him into appearing on One Great Love Story to find his one great Christmas love, he says yes. Even though he’s been in love with Holly since medical school.
Jack doesn’t think he can convince Holly to try for a second great love story. But with an extra dose of Christmas Spirit – and a little help from Holly’s MyHeartChannel viewers – anything is possible.
Chapter 1
“Just go talk to them.” Dr. Jack Shay sounded irritated at her constant staring at the couple in the corner. Yet Holly Whitacre knew his attitude was only for show. Even though they were sharing a meal at the cafeteria, he was in his I-hate-people-which-is-why-I-specialized-in-radiology version of Dr. Jack Shay, which has earned him the nicknamed Gaston by more than a few nurses. He was as handsome as the fairy-tale villain, and often as rude. Holly had once wholeheartedly agreed with the nickname, before an unexpected turn of events changed her late husband’s irritating best friend, Jack “Gaston” Shay, into her absolute rock.
It still surprised her—and everyone else—from time to time.
“I’m fine,” Holly said distractedly, but she still couldn’t tear her gaze away from the couple sitting in the corner of the hospital cafeteria. They were their late sixties, and something about them drew Holly’s gaze back in their direction. Maybe it was the shining glow on the man’s face as they held hands while eating, or the sneaky smiles they gave each other, like they had worlds of history and experiences no one else would ever understand. Love emanated from them in an almost tangible way.
They would be absolutely perfect for her MyHeartChannel show: One Great Love Story.
She looked back to Jack in time to catch him sneaking a pinch of her pecan caramel sticky bun. She smacked his hand away half-heartedly, but he still came away with a chunk of her bun, which he stuffed in his mouth. She could retaliate, but he’d gotten salad and a yogurt, neither of which were worth stealing a bite.
She tried to put her head back into their conversation before she began stalking the couple. “What were we talking about again?”
“How much you love the Christmas explosion in here,” he said dryly.
Right. Holly looked around, her mouth turning down at the miniature Santas, winter villages, great wreaths, and red berries liberally placed around the hospital cafeteria. Outside the window, delicate puffs of snow frosted the tops of the pine and evergreen trees and gathered at the corners of the windows, creating the perfect holiday picture. She knew the hospital had no control over the weather, but still. Patients and doctors alike needed a comfortable place to eat without so many … reminders.
“Everyone knows Christmas is in less than a month; there’s no need to throw it in our faces. Plus, there are other religions to consider,” she grumbled. “And if you wanted a sticky bun, you should have gotten one.”
Jack’s dark green eyes flickered with amusement. “I think I’m rubbing off on you. It’s almost disconcerting.”
“You don’t have the market cornered on grumpiness.”
He lifted a brow. “How many interns have you made cry?”
None that she knew of. Jack had a reputation for weeding people out of radiology.
“Besides, I’m doing you a favor, Dr. Whitacre.” He smirked. “Don’t you know food like this is bad for your heart?”
She rolled her eyes at him throwing her own words back in her face. Up until a couple of years ago, whenever her husband, Dallon, insisted Jack tag along with them to dinner, Jack always ordered hamburgers topped with bacon and grease, or buttery, fatty, chocolate-filled croissants, or whatever the highest-cholesterol item on the menu was, and she’d lectured him often on how bad it was for his heart. Mostly to get under his skin, she could admit. At some point, he’d converted to vegetarianism—and gotten into running—and was pretty high-horse about it, too. Sure, he had muscles now and looked breath-catchingly amazing from time to time, but the effect was lessened when he made sure to flaunt those things.
Holly rarely indulged in sweets, especially at the hospital, where any one of her patients might see her and think her a hypocrite. No one wanted to see their cardiologist down a twelve-hundred-calorie burger. But December was a difficult month, and today was a sticky bun sort of day.
Her thoughts drifted toward the other reason she was in a bad mood today, making the bun look less appetizing. “It’s been two years,” she said quietly. Even with time, this season and its reminders still ran through her like a cold knife in the stomach.
Jack drank from his steaming mug, his eyes hooded, but she knew he understood. Dallon had picked Jack up that cold December afternoon, exactly two years ago, for their speaking commitment at a Bridger University medical symposium. On the way home, the car skidded across black ice, through a weather-beaten barrier, and they plunged into a freezing river. Dallon had been knocked unconscious, but Jack managed to get them out of the car and swim him to shore. After several weeks in a coma, Dallon died one week before Christmas.
Jack didn’t like talking about the accident, but he had given her the details of what happe
ned over and over again in the days they sat beside Dallon’s hospital bed, waiting for him to wake up.
“I miss him,” Jack finally said, his voice gruff. “Remember the way he’d go into detail about every putrid wound he’d come across?”
Holly groaned. Of all the memories. “Always during dinner.”
“And especially if whatever we were eating looked anything like what he’d seen in the clinic.” Jack shook his head. “He knew he’d won when we pushed our plates away.”
“When I pushed my plate away,” Holly pointed out. “You never did.”
“Too much pride.” He let out a low chuckle, causing a close table of doctors to look over in surprise. Dr. Jack Shay did not chuckle. He brooded and stalked and glared, but he was the best radiologist Bridger University Hospital had seen in years, so they dealt with it.
Holly leaned close. “Careful. Your reputation is in jeopardy.”
Jack arranged his features back into a severe scowl, but he couldn’t hide the amused twinkle in his eye that only she seemed to see. “Is this better?”
She let out a fake sigh of relief. “I think I felt the world right itself again on its axis.”
Jack lowered his voice. “You know they all think we’re dating.”
She did know. She was exhausted from refuting the rumors and shrugged her shoulders now when people hinted at wanting to know more. At least it kept well-intentioned, but misguided coworkers from trying to set her up. She’d already had her one great love, and her only interest going forward was to learn about others’ love stories.
She glanced over Jack’s shoulder, back at the adorable couple in the corner. The man now gripped the edge of the table while watching the woman walk their trays to the trash, appearing as though he’d lost his breath at the sight of her.
There was definitely something intriguing about them. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“You’re not going to be able to think about anything until you interrogate them about their love story,” Jack said, bringing her attention back to him, pushing the just-out-of-reach thought completely from her mind.
She laughed. “I do not interrogate people.”
“Whatever you want to call it.”
“Interviewing.” She took a bite of her sticky bun. Inspired by her parents’ great love story—and strengthened by her dad’s numerous painful failures at finding love following her mom’s death—Holly had started a MyHeartChannel show in the long, dark months following Dallon’s funeral.
Jack had worried it was a bad idea, interviewing people about their “meet-cutes” and love stories when she’d lost her own, but it had healed her, and reaffirmed her beliefs about true love. When she’d met Dallon in med school, her heart had skipped a beat, and she often thought that was where her fascination with the heart began. Her followers had grown steadily over the last couple of years, and she hoped a collaboration she’d set up with another famous MyHeartChannel owner would give her even more exposure.
She looked at the couple thoughtfully. “I still need someone for my Christmas show.”
“I thought you usually had these things in the bag months in advance.”
She did, but every time she thought of opening an email labeled “holiday romance” (the subject line she’d asked people who submitted to put if they wanted to be considered for her holiday show), her stomach tightened and she skimmed past it. It turned out her aversion to the holidays was stronger than her love of romance this year.
“It’s probably for the best. Holiday romances are even more doomed than regular ones.”
She folded her arms, ready to spar. This wasn’t the first time she’d come head to head with Jack’s pessimism when it came to love. “Really? And where did you get your data from?”
“Real life,” he said, holding his cup out as if to give her a toast.
She rifled through her memories, recalling that he and his ex-wife had gotten married around Christmastime. She slid her hand across the table and wrapped it around his, her skin warming at the touch of his fingers in hers, like holding a mug of rich, comforting hot chocolate.
Jack tensed at the touch. It took everything in her to resist the urge to offer him any sort of sympathy or comfort, knowing from past experience it would be rejected pretty soundly.
“You’re such a cynic,” she complained affectionately instead.
His hand relaxed under hers. “Do you blame me?”
It was hard not to. His divorce had been one of the ugliest she’d ever seen: a long, drawn-out court case, constant visitation battles for his daughter, and an almost complete do-over when it came to his finances. Smiles, which had been rare before the divorce, became pretty much extinct. Holly knew it had only been Dallon’s loyalty and big heart that compelled him to continue his friendship with Jack after he became pretty much unbearable to be around.
“I honestly think there is one great love for everyone.”
“And I don’t know if I believe in love at all.”
She’d heard him say it before, but still she frowned. If anyone needed to find love, it was Jack Shay.
Jack closed his eyes and shook his head, the smallest of smiles on his face.
“What?” she asked.
“Whenever I say something like that, I see a million thoughts running through your head.” He moved his fingers back and forth between his eyes.
“I’m trying to figure out how to change your mind!”
“It’s not worth trying. Even if love does exist, it’s not in the cards for someone like me.”
“What does that mean, ‘someone like me’?” she said, defensive on his behalf.
“Gaston doesn’t get the girl.” He leaned back, their hands falling apart as he flexed his respectable bicep. “But he does get to keep his good looks.”
At some point, Jack had taken to his nickname. Sometimes Holly worried he wasn’t completely joking when he made comparisons. “You’re not Gaston,” she insisted.
He responded by giving her a smolder that made her want to punch him in the face. Her anger must have shown, because he laughed, dropping the act, and once again was just … Jack. “Holly, other than you and Dallon, I haven’t seen many couples last. Look at your dad, even.”
He hadn’t meant the words unkindly, but she still cringed. Her dad was currently preparing for his sixth wedding—a wedding she’d opted not to attend but had sent a gift for.
He continued, “It makes me think that for most people, maybe romantic love is more about attraction and having a good time together than deeper feelings.”
Her heart rate sped up in tandem with her sparked animation and passion toward the topic. “I think it’s both. It’s attraction and good times and also something unexplainable, but where you want that person’s happiness more than anything else.”
He paused, considering, before giving her a nod of assent. “Okay, I can buy that. But it seems like the odds of two people feeling that way about each other at the same time are pretty slim.”
“When you put it that way, maybe love is kind of miraculous, but that’s why I think my show is so important. To prove it’s real and possible,” she said fervently.
When she finished speaking, Jack’s lips had turned up. On anyone else it would barely pass for a smile, but on Jack, it was nearly a full-on grin.
“What?” she asked.
“I love when you get fired up about love.”
“Jack! Are you baiting me?”
He shrugged in a way that let her know he’d been drawing her into a debate. And somehow, always, she fell for it. Even when the three of them had been at med school together, baiting her had been one of Jack’s favorite past times. “Did you get Danforth’s email?”
Holly blinked at the quick turn in the conversation. “No.” She pulled out her phone. “I haven’t had a second at my computer today.”
“He wants to meet with us sometime today.”
“About what?”
“Bridger C
ares.”
Dallon had started the Bridger Cares Foundation to help underprivileged and disabled patients get the medical care they’d needed. It had been his baby—and he’d spent countless hours filling out grant forms, organizing fundraisers, advocating the hospital for space, and begging doctors to donate free clinic hours several times a month. When he’d died, Holly worried the foundation would die with him, but she and Jack had worked furiously to make sure that didn’t happen.
“Is something wrong?”
Jack must have sensed the alarm in her tone, because his voice immediately softened. “No, everything is good. I’m sure he wants to give us more work.”
She let out a sigh of relief. More work was good. Welcome, even. “I’m free after my shift.”
“I’ll email him and let him know.” Jack stood with his tray. “Finished?”
“Yeah.”
He stacked her tray on his. “Seriously, go talk to the couple.”
Her gaze slid over to them again, and this time, warning bells rang in full force as she observed the man. She pushed her chair back and dashed toward the couple. “Sir, are you breathing okay?”
The man looked up at her, dazed, his hand over his heart. All the signs she’d seen earlier rushed together to make a full picture: the sheen of sweat on his forehead she’d mistaken for glow, the shortness of breath while watching the woman walk away, and the intense grip of his hand on the table.
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