Brock had talked to Erin online frequently since then. In the beginning, they’d mostly spoken about ways to manage childhood asthma, but over the months they’d taken to messaging most days. Although their chat had turned a bit more personal, it hadn’t quite stepped over the line to become intimate, but she had a good sense of humor, and he rather liked her.
“Okay. I’ll go on now.” He pulled the computer onto his lap.
“Before you go,” Charlie said, “just checking you’re still on for the Ward Seven December tour tomorrow?”
Brock chuckled. Although the travelling could be tiring, he enjoyed their visits to the children’s hospitals. “Yeah. Waikato for me.”
“The Coromandel for me, and I think Matt’s at Whangarei,” Charlie replied.
“Yep.” Matt nodded. “Talking of which, I’ve been working on a new Ward Seven character. What do you think?” He turned his sketchpad around to show his brothers. He’d drawn a possum with bulging eyes and a dopey smile. “I’m going to call him Squish,” Matt said, presumably referring to the fact that possums tended to be seen only when flattened on the middle of the road.
They both laughed. “Terrific,” Charlie said.
Brock agreed, then said, “Okay, I’m signing off. Speak later.”
“See ya,” Matt replied.
“Stay loose,” Charlie said. “You know where we are if you need us.”
“Yeah. Catch you online.” Brock ended the call.
He double-clicked on the crown icon and loaded up the forum.
The brothers had been relatively wealthy even before they’d opened their business, but they’d been so successful that a few years ago they’d started the We Three Kings Foundation. Through the Foundation they granted wishes for children with life-threatening illnesses, as well as running a twenty-four-hour online help center for parents with sick kids.
Brock often helped out the doctors by answering questions in the online medical chat room, while Matt chatted to parents and sometimes the kids as well in the Ward Seven chat room. All three of them had worked hard to make the Foundation a success, including dressing up as Ward Seven characters and visiting children’s hospitals to deliver vital medical equipment as well as more fun gifts for the patients.
The guys had started using pseudonyms on the forums in an attempt to remain anonymous, although that had flown out of the window when the New Zealand Herald had done a feature on them announcing that the creator of the famous The Toys from Ward Seven books was one of the three brothers behind the We Three Kings Foundation, but they’d continued to use their pseudonyms anyway.
Brock logged in as Balthasar like he always did, and pulled up the front page to see what new threads were there. His eyebrows rose as he saw one titled “Hugs for Balthasar,” created by Charlie under his pseudonym, Caspar. Brock clicked on it and read the opening post.
Today is the second anniversary of the passing of Balthasar’s wife. If anyone wants to send him an e-hug, feel free to do so here—I’m sure he’d appreciate it.
Charlie had finished with a smiley face.
Brock stared at the replies beneath. There were a hundred and seventy two, and it had only been up a few hours. Scrolling down, he read every one, his throat tightening the more he read. The messages were filled with thank yous from grateful parents saying how the new asthma inhaler had saved their children’s lives, as well as from many explaining how the Ward Seven decorated equipment made their kids’ visits to the hospital a much more pleasant experience, to the extent that sometimes the children couldn’t wait to go for their checkups because they got to play with the toys. All the messages sent hugs and kisses and best wishes for him on such a difficult day.
His eyes stung, and he put the laptop to one side and rose to pour himself a whisky—following his brothers’ advice and choosing the ten-year-old malt and not the forty. He took a big swallow and welcomed the burn of it down into his stomach, looking out at the lights on the harbor through blurred eyes. He thought about Fleur and how proud she’d be of him, and then he thought about his sister, Pippa, who’d died of an asthma attack when he was fourteen, and who was the main reason he’d become a doctor.
He’d been lucky enough never to have to worry about money, but money couldn’t buy love, and it couldn’t buy life either.
So much of his life had been about loss. Didn’t he deserve some happiness? He looked down moodily at a couple standing under a street lamp, kissing. What he wouldn’t give to have a woman’s arms around him tonight.
Then he blinked and caught his breath at the thought, guilt flooding him. What a thing to think on the anniversary of Fleur’s death. He’d promised himself he’d never look at another woman again, let alone date or fall in love. For two years he’d been celibate and had barely given women a second thought. He’d loved Fleur with all his heart, and when she’d died, his heart had not only broken but had shattered into so many pieces he’d thought he’d never be able to fit them all back together again.
But for the first time, Brock acknowledged to himself that he was lonely.
You left me, he thought, looking up at the star-studded sky. You left me alone, and I miss you, and I’ve tried to go on by myself, but I’m only human.
Six months after Fleur had died, friends had started inviting him out on dates, but he’d refused every suggestion of meeting someone. He’d grieved for two years. Was it disloyal to feel he was finally ready to move on?
He ached to feel a warm body against him, and to feel the shared bliss of sexual release, but equally it wasn’t just about that. He missed talking to Fleur, telling her his hopes and fears, and just knowing someone was there for him. That kind of love came around only once in a lifetime, but if someone else existed who could provide even a fraction of the joy he’d felt with his first wife, he knew he would be a lucky man.
Glancing at the laptop still resting on the arm of the chair, he thought about Erin. He had no idea what she looked like, where she lived, or much about her private life, apart from that she was a single parent and had a young son. But he liked her, and she made him laugh. Was that so terrible?
He shouldn’t talk to her. Maybe another night he could have a chat, but tonight wouldn’t be right. Would it?
What would Fleur say? He could almost hear her voice, a little impatient, slightly amused. Her boy’s in hospital, Brock. For God’s sake, just talk to the woman.
His lips curved up, and he went back to the chair and pulled the laptop toward him.
Available at most major retailers
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Other Books by Serenity Woods
For an up-to-date list of available books, please visit the Books page on my website.
The Four Seasons
Book 1: Seducing Summer
Book 2: Tempting Autumn
Book 3: Bewitching Winter
Book 4: Persuading Spring
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Treats to Tempt You
Book 1: Treat with Caution
Book 2: Treat her Right
Book 3: A Rare Treat
Book 4: Trick or Treat
Book 5: A Festive Treat
Book 5.5: No Way to Treat a Lady (Novella)
Book 6.5: A Taste of Things to Come (Novella)
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Between the Sheets
Book 1: A Secret Between Friends
Book 2: An Ocean Between Us
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Three Wise Men
Book 1: The Perfect Gift
Book 2: An Ideal Present
Book 3: A Secret Parcel
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About the Author
Serenity Woods lives in the sub-tropical Northland of New Zealand with her wonderful husband and gorgeous teenage son. She writes hot and sultry contemporary romances with a happy ever after, and would much rather immerse herself in reading or writing romance than do the dusting and ironing, which is why it’s not a great idea to pop round if you have any allergies.
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bsp; Website: http://www.serenitywoodsromance.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/serenitywoodsromance
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Serenity_Woods
Persuading Spring: A Sexy New Zealand Romance (The Four Seasons Book 4) Page 24
