Christmas Lovebirds
Have a Hart Romance
The Hart Family
Rachelle Ayala
Amiga Books
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2015 by Rachelle Ayala
All rights reserved.
Smashwords Edition
ISBN-13: 9781310310980
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Dedication
To Melisa and Rob Hamling
Praying for a heart for Rob.
>>><<<
“A sweet love story full of beauty and adventure.”
– Leanna Wallace
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Valentine Hound Dog Excerpt
About the Author
Other Books by Rachelle
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
“Come here, cutie pie. Step up.” Melisa Hart stuck her finger into the birdcage for her lovebird, Cassie. “That’s a good girl.”
Her entire class of kindergarteners held themselves still in barely suppressed excitement.
“Can I hold her?” her most talkative student, Bree, squealed.
“It’s ‘may I hold her,’ and, no, not right now.” Melisa brought her bird’s beak to her lips and let Cassie take a nibble, which was her version of a kiss.
“Eweee!” Mattie, the tallest boy in the class, shouted, pointing. “She kissed the bird on the lips.”
“Beak,” Bree corrected Mattie. “Birds don’t have lips.”
“Oh yeah?” Mattie retorted. “How do you know? Bird Brain Bree.”
Melisa stuck Cassie on her shoulder and put her hands over her hips. “Class. What did I say about teasing? Is it nice or mean?”
“Mean,” the children shouted in unison, startling Cassie, whose wings flapped briefly.
“Inside voices,” Melisa reminded the children. “Cassie gets scared easily.”
“Will she fly?” Mattie asked.
“Of course she can fly.” Bree turned her nose up at the taller boy. “Everyone knows birds can fly.”
“Actually, she has her wings clipped to keep her safe.” Melisa tickled Cassie under her wing and said, “Scratchy.”
The little bird lifted her wing and spread out the feathers.
“You’re stupid.” Mattie stuck his tongue out at Bree.
“That’s enough,” Melisa said. “Mattie, go back to your sharing chair. Bree, you too. Talking out of turn. The rest of you will get to line up and hold Cassie.”
“But I wasn’t being mean,” Bree said.
“You were belittling Mattie and talking without raising your hand. Go.”
She stomped back to her chair, her blond curls bouncing. “My Papa’s getting me a big bird for Christmas.”
“You too, Mattie.” Melisa pointed toward the boy’s chair.
“Screech,” Mattie shrieked and flapped his arms at Cassie.
The bird squeaked and flapped her stubby wings. She lifted straight up like a helicopter, hit her head on the ceiling and landed on the top of a row of hanging overhead lights.
The rest of the class jumped up and down, pointing and yelling.
“She can fly.”
“Come here, little birdie.”
“Is she stuck up there? Is a fireman going to get her?”
“Oh look, she’s scared.”
“Everyone, take your chairs,” Melisa said as calmly as she could. “Sharing time is over.”
“Ahhh …” the children complained.
Melisa glanced at the wall clock. Ten more minutes until Christmas break. As much as she loved her students, their energy and excitement with Christmas drawing near meant they couldn’t sit still or follow directions.
She passed out the green candy Christmas trees she made by drizzling melted candy over straight pretzel sticks, along with a flyer about the Giving Tree Toy Drive at the Reed Christmas Tree Farm. Bring a wrapped toy and take a picture with a pet bird, ride in a firetruck, and other fun activities.
When the bell rang, Melisa stood at the door and wished all the children a happy vacation and New Year. She kept one eye peeled for Cassie, in case she made a break for the open doorway, but the little bird seemed content to perch high above her and preen her colorful feathers.
“Bye, Miss Hart,” Bree waved her candy Christmas tree. “I want to take a picture with Cassie. How are you getting her down?”
“The janitor has a ladder.”
“My Papa’s coming home.” Bree nodded. “I prayed real hard.”
“He will, sweetie.” Melisa caught the eye of Ella, Bree’s aunt, and reassured. “I’m also praying for him.”
Bree’s father was a war veteran who’d gone back to Afghanistan for a humanitarian trip. He’d been taken hostage by terrorists, but the news reported that he was safe and had been airlifted to Germany to be debriefed, and hopefully able to return by Christmas.
“Are you going to the Christmas Tree Farm tomorrow with Cassie?” Ella took the green pamphlet from Bree and helped her unwrap the Christmas tree candy.
“If I can get her down from the light.” Melisa pointed to her bird. “How about you?”
“Bree, you want to go to the toy drive?” Ella ruffled Bree’s head.
“Yes, I want to hold Ms. Hart’s birdie and take a picture. But we have to bring a toy.”
“Then let’s go to the toy store and pick one up,” Ella said, winking at Melisa. “Maybe we’ll see your teacher there tomorrow.”
“Sure thing.” Melisa said to her friend from UC Berkeley where they’d taken student teaching classes together. “Let’s have coffee some time and catch up now that school’s over.”
“Great. I’ll text you,” Ella said as she took Bree’s hand.
Once all the students were gone, Melisa shut the door and called Larry, the custodian. After she got Cassie down, she’d have to get her wings trimmed again, despite what the guys on the bird forum argued.
Clipping was for Cassie’s safety. She’d heard too many stories of birds flying away, landing in frying pans, or crashing into windows to be persuaded by the free-flight people, especially that arrogant guy with the handle Lovebone who claimed his parrot
regularly flew outdoors and hadn’t gotten lost yet.
These days, anyone could say anything on the internet without proof.
Melisa climbed onto a table and held her finger, waving it up and down as a landing strip. “Come on, Cassie. Don’t be afraid. Fly to me, baby. Come on.”
The bird bent low and arched her wings, shaking and considering, but unable to figure out a way down. She’d been so frightened by Mattie that instinct took over, but now that she was calm, she couldn’t bring herself to try.
Melisa turned on her cell phone to check her messages. Maybe she’d ask Lovebone how he got his bird to fly to him.
# # #
Dr. Rob Reed was running late. He hated evening shifts, and these days, they were getting slammed, especially with the increased ambulance traffic due to all the holiday parties and their drinking and carousing activities.
He whistled for his bird, Casey, a lovebird he rescued from his irresponsible actor brother who was the king of the impulse buy. The little bird flew skillfully, hovering a second before landing on his outstretched finger.
“Good boy,” Rob said, handing him a sunflower seed. He tucked the bird inside his cage. “Papa has to go to work. Sorry I have to cover you early tonight.”
Rob was an emergency room doctor working shifts that jumped around without rhyme or reason. He’d go from twelve-hour overnight shifts, to sixteen-hour six AM to ten PM shifts, to ambulance rides to transfer critical patients. But it was the evening shifts that relegated his dating life to a big fat zero.
Not that he could complain. He was making good money for a young doctor fresh out of residency, and this year, he’d purchased a cabin in the mountains near Lake Tahoe. Not bad for a twenty-nine-year-old.
San Francisco General was the only level-one trauma center for the entire City of San Francisco and northern San Mateo county. Once Rob was on the job, he was on. No time for phone calls, internet, chit-chat, or even catching a bite to eat.
After packing his food in thermal packs, he checked the free flight parrot forum where he was the moderator.
There was a message from HaveAHart, a kindergarten teacher who was a newbie bird mama.
My little bird had a fright in the classroom and she’s perched on the overhead light bar. She seems to be trying to fly to me, bending low and lifting her wings, but she’s not taking off. What do I do?
He dashed a reply.
Call a fireman. It’s easier for a bird who doesn’t know how to fly to go up, but it’s scary to come down. Your bird doesn’t have the confidence to fly, so to her, it’s like jumping off a cliff.
He shut his laptop. There really was nothing he could do. Why did these people never listen until they were in trouble? Clipping wings was like chopping a man’s legs off. Rob was sorry he was so grouchy, but he’d bet her bird had other problems too, probably feather-picking, incessant screaming, and other pathological behavior that came from not being able to do what came naturally—fly.
Chapter Two
Still standing on the table, Melisa stared at her phone browser and stomped her foot. Call a fireman. That was an awfully mean and callous thing to say. And to think she’d been about to wish Cassie was competent enough to fly. She stuffed her phone in her pocket, but missed. The phone clattered onto the table, bouncing toward the edge.
Melisa lunged for it, but the table tilted, and she lost her balance. Arms windmilling, she toppled over the edge, knocking over a couple of chairs, and landed headfirst onto the floor.
“Miss Hart, Miss Hart.” Someone dabbed her head with a wet towel. “Are you okay? You passed out.”
Her vision was blurred, but she could make out Larry the janitor’s thick moustache.
“Let me help you up,” Larry said. “You got a nasty bump on the head.”
“My wrist hurts, too.” Melisa groaned. She tried to wiggle her left hand, but the throbbing pain stopped her. “I tried to stop the fall.”
“You might have broken it. What were you doing on the table? I brought the ladder as soon as I could.”
Melisa glanced overhead. Cassie was still perched, looking down at her. Every so often, she’d arch her wings. Her tail was up, and she looked like she was thinking, Should I jump or not?
The man from the forum, Bonehead, er Lovebone, was right. Her bird was petrified at the possibility of flying.
“Can you get her down?” Melisa asked Larry.
“I should take you to the hospital.” He shrugged. “But first, I’d better get your bird.”
“Yes, please.” Melisa felt like a small child beside the former firefighter who’d damaged his knee and now walked with a limp. “Just stick your finger under her feet and say ‘step up.’”
Larry arranged the ladder and seconds later, Cassie was happily perched on Larry’s big finger. The little bird fluttered her wings and shook herself from her ordeal as Larry brought her to Melisa.
She bent her head down and gently nipped at Melisa’s fingers to get head and cheek scratches.
Melisa let Cassie step onto her finger, and she kissed her beak. Her left hand throbbed too much to move a finger.
“What’s she doing?” Larry asked. “She’s not biting you, is she?”
“No, she wants me to give her a few head scratches, but my hand hurts. Can you give her a tickle?”
Larry’s mouth turned down in a frown. “What kind of fireman am I? I should have been looking at your hand instead of the bird.”
“Actually I’m fine. Come on, Cassie, time to go home.” Melisa coaxed Cassie into her cage. “And Larry, thanks. I’m sure you have other rooms to sweep up. Thanks for bringing the ladder.”
“Not getting rid of me that easily.” Larry picked up the ladder as if it weighed nothing. “Let me put this away, and then I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“Hospital? I’m really okay.” Despite the pain, Melisa flapped her hands to show him. “It’s probably a little strain. I hyperextended some fingers, but look, I’m moving them.”
Yeah, right. Bone-numbing pain made her grit her teeth, and her pinkie throbbed as if it were a balloon about to pop. Gingerly, she opened her file cabinet and extracted her purse and laptop bag.
“Don’t go anywhere,” Larry ordered as he stepped to the door to put the ladder away.
Melisa looped her bags over her right shoulder and tried to pick up Cassie’s travel cage with her right hand, but her large handbag and computer bag made it hard for her to keep the cage from being bumped.
Her left hand was useless—the aching was so intense it brought tears to her eyes. Maybe she did break a few bones.
Crap. Friday night in the ER was not the way she wanted to spend the weekend before Christmas. Not that she had a date or anything, but it would have been nice to cuddle up in a warm comforter and read sweet Christmas romances while listening to Christmas carols.
Which was why she could never date Larry, who hated romance and any activities he deemed too girly. For one, he was her big brother Connor’s best friend. How unromantic could that get? And two, he was too macho and bossy—overprotective.
“Good, you’re still here.” Larry barged into her classroom. He picked up a chair that had toppled and relieved her of her laptop bag, picking up Cassie’s cage at the same time.
“I’m driving you to the ER. You were out cold when I came in. Blacked out for who knows how many minutes.”
“I’m fine, really.” Melisa clenched her teeth. She’d take a few painkillers and drop by the walk-in clinic at UCSF Medical Center near her home instead of going to the ER.
Without another word, Larry commandeered her into his truck, not asking what she’d do with her Toyota, and had her securely restrained in a three-point shoulder and lap belt combination. He placed Cassie’s cage on the jump seat behind her and belted it in place.
Melisa ticked off the seconds in her head. It was only a matter of time before he asked her out.
Once he was in the driver’s seat, he flexed his biceps and grinned
. “I’d say a bird rescue and a trip to the ER is worth dinner.”
Bingo.
“Larry, we’re friends,” she started.
“Friends can have dinner too, especially after waiting in the ER for hours.”
“I don’t believe I need to go. Yes, I probably broke a finger, but the walk-in clinic can take care of it.”
“Why, you have a hot date?” He wiggled his eyebrows and held onto the steering wheel so he could flex more of his beefcake muscles.
“Please … what’s wrong with wanting a quiet night with a book?” Melisa flipped her blond hair over her shoulder and rested her head against the seatback. “I don’t date.”
He raised one eyebrow and shook his head. “I’ll text Connor. Then it’ll just be going out with the guys.”
Without waiting for her okay, he thumbed through his phone and sent a text message. If Connor was free, he’d be there. With a firehouse full of men to protect her, there was no need to wonder why she was San Francisco’s oldest virgin. At this rate, she’d be a quarter century old and still untouched.
Connor was her overprotective elder brother, another firefighter—macho, overbearing, and full of brawn. Heck, she should be used to their ilk by now. Her father and uncles were all firemen. As far as they were concerned, a sweet little number like Melisa Hart should be a fireman’s wife with her own brood of future firefighters, not an elementary school teacher, taking care of other people’s children and living by herself as an old maid, or bachelorette as her kind was known in this day and age.
They pulled up to the Emergency entrance of San Francisco General. Ambulances with their lights flashing and rotating were double-parked in the circle surrounded by frantic flurries of activity.
“Don’t worry about the wait,” Larry said. “I called ahead, and all the triage nurses are my buddies.”
Christmas Lovebirds Page 1
