Reunited with His Runaway Bride

by Robin Gianna

  He slid his shirt up over his head and, when he pulled it off, saw Bree’s eyes focused on his bare chest. Her lips parted slightly, her eyes darkened, and he knew that look well. The look he used to love. The look that said she was thinking about the same thing he’d been thinking about when he’d seen her rear end dancing around in those shorts, and the involuntary stirring his body had felt then was back in spades.

  “Watch Will,” he said, turning away. “I’ll be right back.”

  He washed his face then took a minute to splash cold water on it for good measure before finding a new shirt to wear. How was he going to handle this? Being anywhere near Bree was messing up the equilibrium he’d fought so hard to get back the past six months, and apparently hers, too. Getting out of the house and somewhere public seemed like a good plan. Someplace other than his house, where every room suddenly brought reminders of making love with her, and laughing with her, and planning a not-happening future with her.

  He blew out a breath then walked into the baby’s room to see Bree struggling with the child’s clothes, his little shirt all twisted sideways.

  “You do this,” she said. She huffed out a frustrated breath and held out the pants. “There’s got to be an easier way.”

  “You’d think so.” He reached for the pants but she didn’t let go. Both held on to them for a long moment, and he found his gaze fixated on her mouth. The mouth he didn’t realize he’d been starving for until he’d kissed her on the helipad. The way she was looking at him had him wondering if she was thinking about the same thing, which then had him thinking about kissing her again to find out. Which would be real smart, considering she’d dumped him and shredded his heart into little pieces he still hadn’t managed to put back together.

  He dragged his attention from her mouth to focus on the clothes as he tugged them from her hand. Pulling Will’s little foot through the pants at the same time the baby kept pulling his leg up to his chest took serious concentration, which made it a welcome distraction. Finally, he managed to get one tiny, curved leg through, then the other, before glancing at Bree again. “Getting this kid dressed is like putting socks on a clam, you know?”

  Soft laughter left those beautiful lips. “Never tried putting socks on a clam, but it sounds accurate.”

  They smiled at each other before he finally got the ridiculous pants pulled up and straightened the mini shirt. Feeling pretty proud of the achievement, he picked the baby up and held him up to Bree. “It was a struggle, but you’ve got to admit he looks awful cute now that he’s all dressed and manly-looking in pinstripes.”

  She reached out to stroke the baby’s cheek, and the sweet, soft expression on her face shocked him. Stole his breath. “Yeah. He does. Manly might be a little bit of an overstatement for a three-day-old, but there’s no denying he’s one cute kid. No doubt he’s going to be as handsome as his uncle when he grows up.”

  Her gaze moved above Will’s head to meet his, and there it was again. Something in her eyes that made his heart beat harder and his insides get all knotted up, and just as he was about to put the baby down and reach for her, and to hell with the consequences, she turned away.

  “I’m going to take a short walk. I’ll be back in a bit.”

  Yeah. She was feeling it, too, and getting some fresh air sounded like a very good idea. He was pretty sure sitting alone in the house with Will wouldn’t cool the heat that pumped through his veins every time she walked back in the room. But outside? They couldn’t get in much trouble on the public bike path that wound around the bay outside his house, with all kinds of people going by, right? “How about we put him in the stroller and go for a walk together?”

  “What if going outside makes him start crying again?” she said, that worried pucker diving back between her brows.

  “Then we’ll come back in. Worked before, didn’t it?”

  “Sounds good.” Her smile showed she was happy with the idea, which managed to help him smile, too. “Where’s his stroller?”

  “Not sure.” He scanned all the stuff the delivery guy had piled into the room. “Maybe still in the box?”

  Bree shoved things aside to unearth it. “Here it is.” She tugged and tried to wrestle the stroller out of the box, but it seemed glued inside. “How the heck do they have this thing crammed in here?”

  He tucked the baby into his arm and held the box down. “You should have been here to help put the crib together. That was a lot of fun.”

  She gave a breathless laugh, finally hauling it out and plopping it onto the floor. “Oh, I’m real sorry I missed that. So wish I could have been here to help.”

  “Probably just as well, now that I think about it. We’d have gotten in a fight about how it was supposed to go together, like when we built the bookcase in your apartment.”

  “And I still think the back of it is upside down, which I’ll prove when I move it. If I’m right, I’ll send you a picture and gloat.” She flashed him a grin before she leaned over to pull the front and back wheels apart to open the stroller. The sight, again, of her rear and those bare legs jutting at him and moving around was now permanently branded into his brain. Which sent his libido soaring all over again and his old anger and hurt punching hard into his gut when he thought of all the fun times they’d shared. And how he could keep feeling both of those things at the same time? Over and over again?

  He had no idea. But one thing he did know: it was going to be a long couple of days. With unwelcome heat and a lot of cold showers.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “WE’RE STILL TRYING to find a room for you, Mr. Grant, but hopefully one will be available soon,” Bree said to the more-than-angry patient who’d been in the ER since she’d first arrived that morning, and it was now going on six p.m. “In a big hospital like this, there’s sometimes a juggle between getting patients released and new patients into those rooms. Hang in just a little longer, okay?”

  She gave him her friendliest, most reassuring smile, hoping a little niceness on her part would go a long way toward making the nurses’ jobs a little easier. Nurses who had put up with plenty of verbal abuse from the man, and who had asked her to calm him down since he’d been demanding to talk to a doctor about it. As though there were something she could do to magically make a bed become available.

  And as though he cared much what she had to say anyway. There were always a certain number of male patients who, when they wanted to talk to the doctor, wanted a male doctor, and treated her and other female doctors the same way they treated nurses.

  With disrespect.

  Yes, it stuck in all their craws, made her chest burn and her head feel as if it were about to explode, but it was just the way it was. She’d learned that accepting it was part of the job. Discussing it with older doctors, she knew it had been part of the mentality of patients and even other physicians for years, and, apparently, was a lot better than it used to be. Those who cared about the subject were sure that, as time went on, those attitudes would eventually fade away completely. She had to hope that was true.

  Sean was proof that some men had changed their attitudes. He utterly respected her work, which had been part of the reason she’d fallen so hard for him. But respecting her and knowing she could well take care of herself didn’t stop him from somehow thinking it was his job to take care of her, too. He’d protested that loving someone meant caring for them, that she was independent to a fault.

  She’d learned long ago there was no such thing. If a person didn’t focus on achieving personal goals and accomplishments and independence, then what would you be? Not enough, that was what. Sean just didn’t understand, and it had been one more thing that had led to the spectacular crash and burn and utter flameout of their relationship.

  Not her problem anymore, she reminded herself fiercely. Sean could go find the right wife for himself, and she’d someday, maybe
, with any luck, find the right man for her. After all, her ineptness with little Will had proved two things. That Sean wanted the kind of woman who needed a child to feel complete, and that she wasn’t that woman and never could be.

  Didn’t want to be.

  Bree listened briefly to more lambasting from Mr. Grant, again gave him the same answer and smile, then moved on to the nurses’ desk to go over some patient charts. “Is neuro on the way to check on the possible stroke in twenty-eight?”

  “Yes. And I have transport coming to take your teen broken leg to X-ray, and your elderly patient who fell and hit her head down for her MRI.”

  “Good.” Bree glanced at her watch. Her shift was over in less than an hour, and while, normally, she’d hang around awhile to make sure the transition to the next doc went smoothly, tonight she didn’t have that luxury. Sean would have to leave for work pretty much the minute she arrived to take over with Will, so if she was going to see Emma, it had to happen now while she had this brief lull.

  “I’m going to the ICU for a short time. Page me if you need me.” Between staying at Sean’s to watch the baby if he got called in to surgery and her own twelve-hour shift, Bree hadn’t seen Emma for twenty-four hours and was anxious to find out how she was doing. It didn’t matter that she knew she’d have heard if anything bad had happened. She had to see for herself.

  As she made her way through the hospital corridors, a strange anxiety rolled around in Bree’s stomach, which she’d never experienced much of in her life. Yes, there’d been anxiety before tests in medical school, and nerves when facing a big wave in a surfing competition, or a tennis opponent in a big college match. But none of that had felt like this.

  A little jittery and a lot nervous. Plenty of it was from worry about Emma, she knew. But the rest?

  From having to spend time with Sean, and the tumble of mixed emotions it stirred up, welcome and unwelcome at the same time.

  Walking along the bike path by the beautiful bay she loved always calmed and relaxed her. Walking with Sean and the baby in the stroller yesterday? That had been beyond peculiar. Calming and nerve-racking. Peaceful and turbulent. In some ways, it had felt just like the many times they’d spent meandering around the bay, and more than once she’d nearly reached to hold his hand. Just in time, she’d remember they weren’t lovers, barely friends, even, which had thrown aside any and all tranquillity and left her stomach in knots.

  She drew in a long breath. It would be okay. Sean’s mother would be there soon, and Bree could step out of the picture, focus on packing for Hawaii and move on with her life. Her relationship with Sean would fade to a distant memory. Until then, she’d take her babysitting shift when he wasn’t around, and keep contact between them to a minimum. These uncomfortable jitters would leave and her life would ease into a new normal.

  Her stomach tightened as she approached Emma’s room, wondering what her condition would be. Even the smallest improvement would be wonderful, and she hoped and prayed Emma would be awake and Bree could ask how she was feeling. Could tell her how her baby boy was doing just fine. And was it selfish of her to hope that even a small conversation might help lighten the heavy guilt and discomfort in her own chest?

  But the sight of Emma’s bruised and battered body, with her arm in a cast and her body still hooked up to everything it could possibly be hooked up to, added to that weight instead. Yes, she saw patients looking like this all the time, but a friend? Emma, who as far as she knew had barely been awake enough after her surgeries to spend more than a short time with her newborn baby?

  No, she hadn’t had to go through any of this before, and prayed she never would again. At least Sean believed there hadn’t been anything she could have done differently to avoid the accident. The thought gave her more comfort than it should since she found it impossible not to wonder at least a little.

  But it had happened, and it was over. Like her relationship with Sean. She had no choice but to move on from both of those painful realities.

  “Hey there.” She gently brushed Emma’s hair back from her forehead, and stupid tears stung her eyes again when Emma’s eyes slowly opened and met hers. Since when had she become such a crybaby? “How you feeling?”

  “Like I was hit by a truck.” Her words were a little hoarse from the breathing tube she’d had down her throat that first day, but Bree could still make them out. “Oh, wait. I really was.”

  Emma’s lips curved and her brown eyes twinkled, and Bree blinked back another spurt of tears. Tears of relief and admiration. It was just like Emma, free-spirited, indomitable Emma, to be able to joke in spite of all the pain and misery she was having to endure.

  “Yeah.” Bree slowly lowered herself to perch on the side of the bed, making sure she didn’t jar Emma. “But you, Iron Woman, made it through. And so did your little Iron Boy. He’s doing great.”

  “Sean told me. That you’re helping, too.” Emma’s hand, purple and black with bruises, slowly reached to cover Bree’s. “Thank you. I know you have packing and other stuff to do, getting ready for your competition and new job. Plus you’re not a baby person, and all that with having to see Sean, too...well... I know that’s got to be hard.”

  “He’s such a cutie. Will, I mean.” Needed to be clear on that, since she was pretty sure she’d said those same words to Emma about her brother at some time in the past. “I’m more than happy to be taking care of him.”

  “The NICU nurse brought him in a few times while he was still in the hospital. I don’t remember it all that well, you know? I’m so anxious to see him again.”

  “I’ll figure out how to get him here for a visit, okay?” Bree patted her hand. “How’s the pain? Are you getting enough relief, or should I ask your doctor to adjust the meds?”

  “The meds are pretty good, but I’m not going to lie. Everything hurts, especially when I breathe. Ribs are killing me.” The brown eyes meeting hers were deeply serious now. “Actually, no. Not killing me. I’m still alive, and so grateful for that. If you hadn’t seen that truck barreling toward us and swerved when you did, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be here at all. Saying thanks for all you did for me after the accident and at the hospital, and now for Will, isn’t near enough and I can never repay you for it. But I hope you know how much I appreciate everything.”

  “No repayments or appreciation necessary, and you know it.” Emma’s words loosened the bands of guilt Bree hadn’t even realized had wound painfully tight ever since the accident. She wished she could give her friend a hug as overwhelming gratitude filled her own chest that they both were still here, but hugs would have to wait for a while. “I’m finishing my shift, then heading to Sean’s to take my babysitting shift. I’ll check on you when—”

  “Knock-knock.”

  Heart jolting in her chest, Bree swung around, beyond surprised to hear Sean’s voice. Also surprised to see Will tucked into his arm, though she shouldn’t have been. It wasn’t as though he’d leave the child alone, or get another sitter without telling her.

  She let herself take in the sight of him, tall and a little disheveled, still sporting yesterday’s five o’clock shadow that had darkened through today. Apparently taking care of Will and shaving couldn’t happen at the same time, and she had to smile a little, remembering their struggles.

  His lips curved, too, as his eyes met hers, lingered, then moved to his sister as he walked toward the bed. Bree stood to step aside and give him space. Or herself space, if she was honest, because she wanted to reach for him and hold him and kiss the tension from his face. Maybe someone who didn’t know him would think his wide smile was carefree and happy, but the strain around his eyes and lips was obvious to Bree.

  “How’s my favorite sister?” He crouched down, holding Will at bed height. “I brought you a get-well present.”

  “Oh, Sean.” Emma’s eyes lit as she lifted her hand to tou
ch Will’s tiny socked foot. A foot Bree knew had been none too easy to cover, and she inwardly chuckled at Sean’s comparing dressing the boy to putting socks on a clam. “I was so drugged up last time, I hardly remember holding him. He’s...he’s so beautiful.”

  “Yeah, he is. Just like his mom.”

  “Look at his cute little clothes!” Emma’s hand gently, tenderly, ran over every inch of her son’s small body, lingering on his soft head. “Did you pick them out?”

  Sean’s gaze slid to Bree’s, and the secret grins they shared warmed her chest more than they should have. “Honestly? No. I had a baby store bring a bunch of stuff, including his clothes. Bree loves dressing him, don’t you, Bree?”

  “Love it. Just like playing with dolls when I was little.”

  “You’re not fooling me,” Emma said, grinning, too. “I can tell from both your faces it must not be easy, which means it’s going to be even trickier for me, having only one arm for a while. Besides—” she turned her attention to Bree “—you told me the only dolls you played with as a little girl were mermaid dolls, and they were always surfing and rescuing swimmers.”

  “Did I tell you that?” Bree had to laugh. “I don’t remember, but I do remember that my dad didn’t want me playing with dolls. Had me in tennis and surf lessons and other sports from the time I was six, with all kinds of academic tutors to help me catch up at school. I worked pretty hard for his approval, but I didn’t get it very often. Probably why he left when I was ten. I never measured up to the daughter he wanted me to be.”

  Sean and Emma both turned shocked eyes to her, then seemed to study her for a long, arrested moment. She shifted uncomfortably, wondering why in the world that stupid confession and comment about her childhood and her father had fallen out of her mouth. It wasn’t as though she thought about it anymore. It was ancient history.