The Nurse Who Saved Christmas

by Janice Lynn

  So why didn’t she believe he didn’t feel the same? Why did she believe that something else had prompted him to back away? Something that ran so deeply through him he believed he had nothing to offer her but heart-ache? Something that had to do with his dislike of the holidays?

  “You deserve better.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. I do.”

  This time she was the one who left.

  By the time she got home, she was throwing up. No doubt from the stress of the night and the sickening feeling that had crept in during their conversation.

  Friends. He wanted to be friends. Liar. Who did he think he was kidding? He didn’t look at her the way her friends looked at her.

  Neither did she have sex with friends.

  Or even almost have sex with her friends.

  Really, she’d just like to know how it was possible for a man to look at her with fire in his eyes and ice on his tongue? Because his words had bit into her bitterly coldly. Frigidly. Friends.

  Fine, if that’s what he wanted, she’d be his friend.

  She told herself all these things and more right up until that night, when she was scheduled to work with him.

  Then she admitted the truth.

  She couldn’t be Dirk’s friend. Not when she felt the way she did about him. If she didn’t protect her heart, she’d end up wearing battle scars from their friendship. Scars that ran so deep she wouldn’t ever recover.

  No, she couldn’t be his friend, but somehow she had to be his colleague, his nurse. She had to work with him and be the professional she was. Somehow.

  Almost, she called in sick, but her illness had passed, had just been from a morning spent longing for what might have been. So she’d go to work and come face-to-face with a man who seemed determined to be friendly.

  Seriously, it was enough to send her stomach into Churnville all over again.

  CHAPTER SIX

  DIRK hadn’t slept much between ending his emergency call the morning following the Christmas party and reporting back in for a half-shift that evening. How could he when he couldn’t stop thinking about Abby?

  She’d agreed to his friend proposal, but he’d seen the hurt in her eyes. The confusion. She didn’t understand.

  Why had he let things get so out of control the evening before? Not that Abby had given him much choice. He’d looked into her eyes, heard the truth in her voice when she’d told him she wanted to make love, and he’d ignored all the reasons why they shouldn’t.

  Just as he’d ignored the reasons why he shouldn’t have asked her to the Christmas party to begin with. Not that he’d meant to. The invitation had just slipped out of his mouth and she’d looked so happy when she’d said yes, he hadn’t taken the words back.

  Just as he hadn’t taken them back when he’d agreed to be her Santa.

  Seeing Abby happy did something to him, made him do things he ordinarily wouldn’t do. Made him want things he shouldn’t want.

  When he had slept, he’d been haunted by treacherous nightmares. Had they been triggered by attending the Christmas party? Or just by the season he could never escape? Or from walking away from Abby when she was the best thing to enter his life in years?

  Regardless, he’d welcomed the evening and the start of his abbreviated—due to the holiday party—shift. Right or wrong, he’d also welcomed seeing Abby again, welcomed everything about her, including the tray of goodies she’d left on the break-room table.

  Mostly he just wanted to make sure she was okay. During the night, as they’d worked on patients, he’d felt her gaze on him, felt her studying him, trying to see beneath his surface. If she only knew what darkness lay beneath, in the depths of his soul, she’d have turned away, never wanting to look again.

  If he wasn’t careful, he was going to hurt Abby.

  That and that alone should accomplish what he hadn’t previously had the willpower to do.

  He would ignore the attraction between them before he hurt her. Otherwise he’d end up taking every drop of sweetness from her and leaving her with nothing more than a barren tree with a few empty hangers where shiny ornaments had once glistened.

  Abby deserved fullness of life, color and brightness, glittery packages, and tinsel, and twinkling lights. All the things he wasn’t.

  Having finished with the patient he had been tending, he stepped into the next bay, pausing in mid-step. Abby was cleaning the room, preparing for the next patient. She had to know he stood there, but she didn’t look up to acknowledge him.

  He turned to go, but the fact she ignored him irked.

  She’d been polite all evening, courteous when discussing a patient. But other than regarding a patient, she hadn’t spoken a word to him.

  He didn’t like it. They were friends, right?

  “I saw you’d brought more goodies.” He’d snagged a couple from the rapidly disappearing tray. “Those haystack things were great.”

  She nodded, not looking up from where she spread out a clean sheet. “I always bring lots of goodies this time of year. It’s tradition.”

  She kept her tone even, but she was upset. She’d invited him to stay the day with her and he’d left her high and dry, told her he just wanted to be friends.

  Idiot.

  Dirk grabbed the corner of the sheet closest to where he stood and spread the material out, eliciting a surprised look from her. “You have a lot of Christmas traditions, don’t you, Abby?”

  “Yes.” Taking a deep breath, she tucked the clean sheet in around the hospital bed. “Christmas traditions are important to me.” She straightened, held his gaze then sighed. “Before you give me a lecture on all the woes of the holidays, let me just warn you that I’m a little cranky so you might not want to do that. Not tonight.”

  Dirk took a step back. Abby was cranky? Because of him. Because he’d refused to go with her. Because he’d said he just wanted to be friends.

  “I’m sorry, Abby.”

  She snorted, rolling her eyes. “It’s not that.”

  “Then what? Is Macy’s all sold out of that gift you just have to buy still?” He tried to keep his tone light, to make a joke in the hope some of the usual sparkle would return to her eyes, but when he spoke of anything to do with Christmas a brittle edge always seemed to be present.

  “Ha-ha. Too funny.” Rather than sparkle, she rolled her eyes again. “For the record, I finished my shopping weeks ago.”

  She was probably one of those women who started next year’s shopping the day after Christmas. That seemed like the kind of thing Abby would do.

  “If you must know,” she continued, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle on the expertly made bed, “I haven’t felt well.”

  Her hand popped over her mouth as if she hadn’t meant to say that out loud, as if she regretted that she had.

  “What’s wrong?” All desire to keep the conversation light vanishing, Dirk studied her. She didn’t look ill. She looked…beautiful, almost ethereal, like the delicate angel on top of a Christmas tree.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I shouldn’t have said anything,” she huffed, but when he only stared, waiting for her to elaborate, she continued. “I’m fine. Really. Just a virus.”

  But she didn’t meet his eyes and he placed his hand on her forehead.

  “I don’t have a temperature.” She gave an exasperated sigh.

  “Tell me what’s going on. I’m a doctor, remember?” Again, he strove to keep his tone light, but her evasiveness worried him. The thought of her being sick worried him. “Maybe I can help.”

  He wanted to help. As a doctor to a patient, he told himself, even as he acknowledged his concern went beyond that of doctor-patient. As a friend to another friend, he corrected, but even that didn’t cover the protective feelings the idea of Abby being ill spurred within him.

  “Fine. I’ll tell you, but just remember you asked for this.” She picked at the pristine bedding, rubbing her fingernail over the white material. “I’ve been feeling tired. A
little nauseated at times to where my appetite just isn’t what it should be. I threw up this morning, but that’s because I crie—” She paused again, flushing.

  She must have spent as restless a day in bed as he had. Guilt hit him. He didn’t want Abby to suffer because of him. He’d wanted to keep from hurting her, but he’d waited too late.

  “You should have taken sick leave tonight.”

  “Why? Nursing staff are almost always shorthanded as is.” She frowned. “Besides, it’s nothing much, really. I don’t feel myself, but that’s my own fault, isn’t it?” Glancing up at him, her weak smile almost knocked him to his knees. “I do realize that I shouldn’t have read so much into you asking me to the Christmas party, Dirk.”

  “I’m sorry I gave you the impression we could be more than friends.” He wanted more than friendship. He wanted to be her lover. Without strings. Without having to worry about hurting her.

  She lifted a shoulder in a mock shrug. “I should have known better.”

  “Why should you have known better, Abby? I was sending mixed signals.” Saying one thing, wanting another. Why was he admitting this to her? Wasn’t he only sending more mixed signals by doing so?

  “Were you?” Her brow lifted. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  The way she said it, so sarcastic, bugged Dirk. Abby was happy, bubbly even. Not today. Nothing about this conversation felt right. Sure, he’d expected tonight to be awkward, but they’d done awkward before. Had done awkward for two months with only a break when he’d agreed to be Santa. This went beyond that.

  Something was wrong with Abby.

  He thought of the long hours she worked, of all the volunteer work he knew she did. No doubt she was spending the time she should be sleeping baking Christmas candies.

  “You’re not getting enough rest.”

  She pushed an empty IV stand against the wall, out of the way. “I slept eight hours each of the past couple of days. I’m getting plenty of rest, Dr. Kelley.”

  His name came out with emphasis, coated with annoyance.

  He followed her around the room. “Obviously your body needs more rest.”

  “Obviously,” she agreed wryly, picking up a stray alcohol pad package from the counter. “But it’s choosing the wrong time of year to tucker out on me. I’ve got too much to do to get sick right now.”

  “Like what? More spreading Christmas cheer stuff?”

  Her eyes narrowed into an outright glare. “I like spreading Christmas cheer. If anything, volunteering makes me feel better about life. Not worse. Maybe you should try it sometime instead of all that bah-humbug stuff.”

  “Maybe when you’re healthy, but at end of shift, you need to go home and get some sleep. Doctor’s orders.”

  “This morning, after my shift ends, I’m picking up boxes of food to deliver to the poor.” Her expression dared him to say anything. “After I finish that, I’m delivering fruit baskets to a nearby nursing home.”

  Boxes of food. Fruit baskets. Hadn’t she mentioned something earlier in the week about volunteering in a soup kitchen, too? Plus, she’d been doing all this baking.

  “Aren’t you on schedule to work again tonight?” He knew she was. He knew each and every night they’d be working together. And the ones they wouldn’t.

  “I’m due here at seven. For the record, you’re not my doctor and I didn’t ask for your advice, neither do I want it.”

  He crossed his arms, pinning her beneath his gaze. “So when are you planning to sleep?”

  “After I get the fruit baskets delivered.” She winced, confirming what he already suspected. She hadn’t left much time for sleep. “Normally, I can do this and more without so much as blinking my eyes. Getting called in to work on the night of the Christmas party threw off my rhythm a little, that’s all.”

  She didn’t comment that he’d played a role in her rhythm being thrown off. She didn’t have to. She had to be on the verge of exhaustion and whether she wanted his advice or not, she was going to get it.

  “No wonder you’re coming down with something,” he scolded. “Didn’t they teach you anything about taking care of yourself while you were in nursing school? Sleep is important.”

  Said he who had slept very little over the past few weeks. How could he when every time he closed his eyes his dreams took him back to the morning he’d made love to Abby? A morning where he’d felt guilty for taking advantage of her goodness. After that, he’d done all he could to avoid her, to keep things completely professional between them. Abby hadn’t pushed, hadn’t asked anything of him. Not until she’d asked him to play Santa.

  He should have said no.

  None of this would be happening if he’d just said no.

  “I do this every year,” she insisted, sounding more and more annoyed. “I just have a light virus or something. It’s no big deal and really none of your business.”

  Dirk gritted his teeth, took a steadying breath, and managed to keep from pulling her into his arms to shake some sense into her.

  “Yeah, well, you might try to kill yourself every year, but I’ve never been here to watch you run yourself ragged in the past,” he reminded her, moving in front of her, placing his fingers on her chin and lifting her face so she had to look at him. “I’m going with you.”

  Her forehead wrinkled as her brows lifted high on her heart-shaped face. “Do what?” she scoffed, her hands going to her hips.

  Yeah, that’s pretty much what Dirk was wondering, too. Do what? But the thought of her pushing herself all day after working such long shifts back to back bothered him. Especially knowing she planned to come in and work another long shift despite the fact that she wouldn’t be able to squeeze in more than a few hours’ sleep at most.

  None of his business? That bothered him, too. Right or wrong, he cared about Abby, didn’t want her pushing herself so much. Friends could care about friends, could want to help each other.

  “I’m going with you,” he repeated, his tone brooking no argument. “You’ll finish quicker and be able to get some of the rest you obviously need.”

  She regarded him a long moment, then her lips twisted into a rather sinister smile. “You’re welcome to go with me, Dirk. Not because of me, but because you need a lesson in what Christmas is really about. Helping the needy is a great way to learn that lesson.”

  He didn’t need to learn any such lesson.

  “That’s not why I’m going.” He was going because she needed him, whether she was too stubborn to admit it or not. If easing Abby’s self-imposed load counted as helping the needy, so be it.

  “No, but it’s definitely what you’re going to learn. Come on, Scrooge. Let’s finish our shifts so we can go make a difference in the world.”

  Abby snuck a glance at where Dirk helped pack more canned food and basic household supplies into a box that would later be given to a needy person.

  She hadn’t wanted him to come with her, didn’t want him being nice to her, didn’t want to be near him, period. How was she supposed to protect her heart when he insisted on helping her?

  As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She had overstretched herself, and appreciated his help so that she’d finish earlier. But there was so much to be done at this time of year. So much important work. Besides, sitting at home gave her too much time to contemplate that when she went home only Mistletoe cared. That she had no family to come home to, no family to share Christmas dinners, no family to sit around the tree with and open packages.

  No one.

  Her gaze lifted from the box she was packing, landing on the man across the table.

  Why did looking at him bring how alone she was into focus so clearly? Why did looking at him make her see what she’d been able to hide from herself in the past? That, although she loved volunteering, she didn’t do so selflessly. No, she also volunteered because doing so prevented her from thinking about how she’d spend another Christmas alone.

  “You okay?”

  Abby blinked at
Dirk. Although he’d been terse when they’d first arrived, he had quickly impressed the other volunteers.

  Volunteers who kept sending Abby sneaky smiles and suggestive eyebrow wiggles. After her first few attempts at convincing her longtime friends that she and Dirk were only coworkers, friends, she’d given up. After all, she didn’t buy the friends bit any more than they did. Besides, the more she’d protested, the bigger their smiles had grown.

  “Abs? You okay?” he repeated.

  She glanced at where Dirk had finished with his box and had lifted another to fill. A wave of dizziness hit her and she grasped hold of the table. What was wrong with her? To get sick right now would be so unfair.

  “I’m fine,” she lied, hoping she was imagining the sweat beads popping out on her forehead.

  Maybe she should have said no for once, asked the ladies to get someone else. Anything so she didn’t get ill in front of Dirk.

  What was she thinking? Of course she couldn’t have done that. Not when it would mean that someone’s Christmas wouldn’t be as special, as magical.

  When it would mean going home and being alone.

  She was fine. Or would be if Dirk would get back to packing and quit staring at her. It wasn’t as if he knew she was struggling to keep up. She would not let him know just how much effort she was putting into this.

  “Maybe you should rest for a few minutes,” he suggested, boxing up more canned goods. “I’ll finish this.”

  Or maybe she didn’t have to tell him how much effort she was putting in. Maybe he already knew. Somehow. Probably that crazy connection they shared. The one he insisted on calling friendship.

  She sighed.

  “Or better yet…” He stopped what he was doing to pin her beneath his azure gaze. “Let me take you home where you can get proper sleep before you drop.”

  The two volunteers elbowed each other. Abby bit back another sigh, this one from fatigue, and straightened her shoulders. “There’s no reason I can’t finish, Dirk.”