by Robin Gianna
“I can’t believe there was a single thing about you that didn’t measure up to your dad’s expectations. But if it’s true?” Sean’s eyes got a little hard. “Pardon me for saying it, but your dad’s an idiot.”
“Yes. An idiot,” Emma agreed.
Bree’s discomfort eased, and so did the tightness that had formed in her chest at the memories. “Thanks. If I win another competition, I might hear from him, and I’ll pass on your opinions then.”
Sean’s brown gaze stayed mostly on Bree as he tucked his nephew into the crook of Emma’s arm so she could hold him close. He stood and took the two steps necessary to reach Bree, then one more that brought him within breathless inches. His finger tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear before his warm palm cupped her cheek.
“You never talked about your dad much, in all the time we were together. Just complained about your mom, sometimes. Why?”
“Because he’s not a part of my life, really, other than a text now and then, and the occasional phone call. Hasn’t been for years.”
“Sure about that? Just because he wasn’t around doesn’t mean he wasn’t still there in a different way.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Okay, she did, but what was the point of talking about it?
“I’m finally understanding your extreme type A competitiveness.”
“My competitiveness doesn’t have anything to do with anything, other than I like to win.”
“Everybody likes to win. You like to win more than most. Wanting to show your dad he was wrong.”
She forced a light laugh. “Did you get an A in Psychology 101? Maybe it’s true, but it’s part of who I am, with or without him in my life. With or without my mother hanging on to every one of my wins like they were her own.”
He slowly nodded, then closed the inches between them to press his lips to her cheek. Let them deliciously linger, and she couldn’t help but let her eyes drift closed for just a moment to better soak in how good they felt against her skin. “Always remember—who you are is one amazing woman.”
His hands squeezed her shoulders before he went back to sit on the side of Emma’s bed, admiring his nephew with her.
She watched as the two of them smiled at one another with the kind of special family connection Bree didn’t understand. That they’d always had, even when they were annoyed with each other, which had been a lot the past year or so.
They gazed in wonder at the baby and one another, talked about the little guy and his fussiness and perfection and how much their mother would adore him. How much their dad would have loved him. It struck her that someone who didn’t know might have thought it was a beautiful, tender moment between husband and wife.
This was one of the things Sean wanted someday. Someone he passionately adored, someone he could have a child with, someone to help him complete the perfect family he so desired.
“I...have to get back to work,” she said, turning toward the door. “I’ll come get Will when I’m done.”
She didn’t wait for a response, but somehow could feel Sean’s gaze on her back. She could guess what he might be thinking as he watched her leave, but wouldn’t let herself wonder or care.
As if, with their present situation, that were even close to possible.
CHAPTER FIVE
SEAN FINISHED HIS notes on the patient’s chart and glanced at his watch. Without another surgery scheduled, he could head home and relieve Bree of baby duty. Maybe even get a fast run in before she left to clear his head and relieve the tightness of his muscles. Assuming the little guy was asleep and not torturing her.
Though she hadn’t seemed too tortured when she’d come back to Emma’s room after her shift to pick him up. Had even talked to him in a sweet, cooing voice that had surprised the heck out of Sean, considering she didn’t want kids of her own. Then again, he supposed a person could enjoy a baby, then enjoy handing it back to its parents, happy to not have the full-time responsibility.
Which Sean had to admit was a lot harder than he’d ever anticipated it would be. As was having Bree at his house. The scent of her back in his life. The daily sight of her that made his heart twist and his gut ache and made him wish, all over again, for something that couldn’t be.
Unless she changed her mind about them wanting different things out of life. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that some stupid, crazy part of him had been struck with the tiny hope that, maybe, being around Will and how incredible the little guy was would do exactly that. Make her see that having a child of her own would be a blessing, not a curse. That her need to be some superstar all the time—a need he understood better now that she’d talked about her father—wouldn’t have to be squashed. Sean might not be the best at caring for his nephew, but he was learning. Why couldn’t she see that they weren’t so different—that they could be a team together while she still did the things important to her?
Fat chance, and stop even thinking about it, fool.
He rubbed his hand over his face, reminding himself the kid conversation had been just the final nail in the coffin. There had been plenty of other things proving they were wrong for one another, and he needed to quit dreaming and wishing it were otherwise.
Sean checked out of the hospital and headed home, and with each mile he grew closer, his anticipation grew as well, at the same time he thrashed himself for feeling that way. Since when had he been a masochistic guy who looked forward to getting all stirred up over a woman he couldn’t have? A man who wanted to be reminded of failure and disappointment?
A man who wanted to have to take another stupid cold shower?
“Hey, Bree, I’m back.” He tossed his keys on the kitchen counter, then listened to the utter quiet in the house. The way it had been since Bree left him. Sure, she’d had her own apartment and they hadn’t spent all their time together, but it wasn’t until they’d broken up that being alone in the house had felt lonely. The quiet had been relaxing, not oppressive the way it had been until Will had arrived to liven things up with his crying and neediness and adorableness. Sean toed off his shoes to walk quietly through the house to find them, part of him dreading seeing Bree and feeling the desire for her and ache of loss that came every single time he did. He tried to shove aside all that to feel glad the baby wasn’t yelling and worrying her.
Except they didn’t seem to be anywhere.
Where were they? Surely Bree would have told him if she’d planned to go somewhere, even for a walk. Or at least texted him if she’d had to leave for some reason. He opened his back door to peer into his small yard, fenced off from the alley behind. “Bree?”
Nada. Maybe she’d taken Will for a walk by the bay. Why he felt a weird niggle of worry, he had no clue, and, just as he was thinking he might as well change his clothes and take that run he’d wanted, he found himself heading out his front gate to the bike path. “Bree?”
He scanned both directions without any sign of her or a stroller, and that stupid niggle had him pulling out his phone to call her. No answer. He was about to get his bike to look for them when his eye was caught by a sheen of golden fire lit by the sun. Nobody but Bree Donovan had hair that incredible color, and he turned to see that she was in the bay, obviously giving instruction to some kids who were standing on big paddleboards, trying to maneuver them, while they fell over into the water in the process.
Then he about fell over, too, when he saw her beautiful body wore a bikini and little Will was strapped onto her torso with some cloth contraption. Her long, drop-dead beautiful legs were knee-deep in the water, and the sexiness of her round, shapely bottom in those orange shorts of hers couldn’t come close to how she looked in a swimsuit.
A vision he’d nearly forgotten about, until it stared him in the face again. Except this time, her breasts were covered up by a baby and somehow she’d never looked more
beautiful.
His chest tight, he took a moment to let himself absorb the scene. Realizing he could look at her all day and never tire of the view, at the same time knowing he wouldn’t get to much longer. Never again, probably, since she would be moving to the middle of the ocean in a matter of days.
Heaviness filled his stupid heart at the thought. As if he hadn’t heard through the grapevine weeks ago that she would be gone soon. As if their relationship hadn’t ended long ago, anyway. He forced himself to move toward them. Probably, she’d appreciate getting Will off her chest—literally—and Sean could try, somehow, to get back his breath and his equilibrium by taking the child into the house, leaving her to enjoy the water without either of them getting in her way.
“Teaching Will how to paddleboard?” he asked as he stepped across the sand.
She turned her head, her vivid green eyes meeting his. “Hey, you!” The wide white smile she always wore while enjoying a calm, quiet bay or a breaking ocean wave was as dazzling as the water. “Well, I saw these boys having trouble out here and decided to help. But I admit we were wondering how Will would do if we laid him on the board and gave him his first water ride. What do you think?”
He’d always been a sad sucker for that glimmer of humor, her teasing voice. He forced his voice to sound as lighthearted as hers did, which took some doing since his heart was definitely not feeling it. “I think the baby manual says he wouldn’t like cold water. And can’t swim. Maybe floating in the bathtub is a better idea.”
“What do you think, Will?” she asked, and the way she bounced with the boy as she waded onto the shore forced Sean to look away for a second. “Your uncle’s not into adventuring with you yet, but he will. Lucky you.”
The kid would have been lucky to have her to adventure with, because no one was as much fun as Bree Donovan. When she wasn’t annoyed and distant and smashing a man’s heart flat. “I can take him now, if you want to stay in the water awhile.”
“Okay. The boys are just getting the hang of the paddleboard, so I’d like to help them for a little longer. Then I’ll help fix lunch. I don’t have to be at work for a while.”
She reached for the buckles of the contraption, then paused in midmotion to smile down at Will. Moved her fingertips, instead, to caress his cheek and hair. “Did you like the water, sweetie? The wind on your face?” The cooing tone of her voice had Sean listening in wonder, staring at the tender expression on Bree’s face as she tucked her finger into the baby’s tiny fist, and for once her little movements as she gently moved around with him didn’t affect Sean’s libido; they squeezed his heart instead.
“You’re working tonight?” His words came out rough, and he cleared his throat. “I thought you didn’t go in until morning. You better get some sleep, then.”
“Will and I took a couple naps together, so I’m okay.” And instantly, he could see them together. Beautiful Bree with little Will tucked next to her warm side. Except she’d probably placed him in his bassinet, which would make more sense. More strokes on the infant’s face, more smiles at him, and Sean’s heart filled with a cautious jubilance that she was obviously learning to love this child. Which was ridiculous and idiotic—even if she did, it wouldn’t change anything between the two of them, and he’d better keep reminding himself of that before he did or said something pointless and embarrassing. “I think he’s got what it takes to be an ER doc someday—sleeps like a rock, then he’s up and at ’em.”
“Sounds like surgeon’s hours, too.”
“But surgery is so boring, doing the same thing all the time.” That teasing twinkle was back in her eyes full force. “Work in the ER is a constant adventure.”
Adventure. He’d enjoyed a lot of it with her, hadn’t he? Wanted to again. So much, it physically hurt.
He drew in a long breath. “Surgery holds its surprises, too, Dr. Donovan.”
“And speaking of surprises, I’m wondering why you’re wearing your socks out here. Not your normal beach attire.”
He wrested his gaze from Bree and Will to look down at his feet, and sure enough his socks were covered with sand, which would probably be embedded in them forever. “They’re paddleboard socks,” he lied, not about to tell her he’d been weirdly worried about her and had rushed out without thinking. “Thought I might need to help instruct the boys.”
“Uh-huh. In your scrubs.”
“Paddleboard scrubs.” Bree shook her head, chuckling as she finally went back to fumbling with the straps and buckles of the thing holding that lucky baby close to her body. “Where did you get that, anyway? And how’s it work?”
“It was in the pile of stuff the baby store brought. And I’m still not sure how it works.” Her face cutely scrunched up as her fingers worked, so far unsuccessfully, to detach it. “Of all the confusing things I’ve tried to learn the past couple days, putting it on, then getting Will inside, was high on the frustration scale. Maybe I have to live in it now.”
He couldn’t take any more of the fumbling, and reached to help wrestle the thing apart, only to quickly realize that meant touching her smooth skin and the soft mounds beneath her swimsuit. His breath quickened as their eyes met over Will’s head. “Think this thing is really a chastity belt for breasts?” he asked as he pulled Will out of the loosened carrier, hoping a joke would diffuse the heat pumping through his pores and the almost overwhelming need to grab her and kiss her and see where that led.
Bad idea. Very bad.
Her breathy laugh swept across his cheeks. “Maybe.”
As she slid the thing off her body, he was hyperaware of every inch of her skin being slowly exposed. Her soft, round breasts. Her smooth, tanned stomach. Every movement of her hair across her shoulders, of her slender, toned limbs, and, as his blood pumped hotter, the sexual thoughts drowning out his earlier reminders of self-preservation were suddenly interrupted when she began to knead her wrist.
“What have you done to your arm?” he asked, but the second the words were out of his mouth, he knew.
The grimace of pain on her face smacked him with a hard, shocking blow. The accident, of course. Why hadn’t he been thinking about how much she might be hurting from that? Obviously, because he’d been so focused on his sister and the baby, and, damn it, himself, trying to protect his stupid, still-crushed-up heart. Had put effort into not looking at her too carefully. Done such a good job of shoving down the terrifying realization that Bree could have been injured just as badly as Emma, or even worse, he’d pushed aside all thoughts of how she had to have bumps and bruises of all kinds.
And of course she hadn’t said a word about it. That time she’d cut her foot on coral after she’d had a surfing wipeout in Hawaii? He’d only found out how bad it was when he’d caught her slapping new gauze and duct tape on it in the middle of the night in their hotel room.
“Oh, you know, it’s just a little sore. Like a few other things.”
She’d said it with a rueful grin, but he couldn’t smile back. “This...upsets me, Bree.” With one palm pressing Will against his shoulder, he took her hand in his, careful not to squeeze, and headed toward the house. He half expected her to protest, to say she was fine or that she wanted to help the boys some more, and the fact that she didn’t told him she was hurting more than she’d admit.
Inside the house, he tucked Will into his little seat, then turned to Bree. “Tell me where you’re hurting.” He took her delicate wrist in his hand, and cursed when he saw the swelling and bruising he should have noticed. Should have asked about. How had he not seen it the first second he’d watched her messing with the baby thing, trying to detach it? Every day they’d been together since the accident?
Obviously, because he was a self-absorbed idiot. An idiot who’d been focusing on other notable parts of her body instead. “What all happened to you in the accident?”
“I’m fine. Just
bumps and bruises.”
“Don’t have to have broken bones for it to hurt.” He tipped up her chin and looked beyond the light makeup she wore. Really studied every beautiful curve and angle of her face. Full pink lips that had been the best mouth in the world to kiss. Fine bone structure covered with soft, luminous skin. Green eyes he’d fallen into with weakened knees the very first time he’d looked into them.
The face he’d thought for a briefly happy time that he’d get to look at all day, every day, and that he still saw too often in his dreams.
One of those beautiful eyes was going dark and puffy, and his gut clenched at the sight. “You’ve got a black eye brewing. And probably a lot of other bruises you haven’t bothered to tell me about. I can’t believe I haven’t asked you about this before.”
“There have been more important things to worry about.”
“Yeah, well, those concerns are currently status quo, so your injuries have been bumped to the top of the list.” He grasped her shoulders and gently pushed her down to sit on his sofa. “Sit tight for a sec.”
He jogged into his bathroom and dug through the jumble of toiletries and first-aid stuff he should organize one of these days, finally finding the little glass vial she’d left there last year. His sister believed in herbal remedies for all kinds of things, and had given Bree the stuff after she’d gotten banged up in a surf competition. Along with all kinds of other oils, and thinking about what he and Bree had done with them made him breathe faster again.
And what did it say about him that, even knowing she was in pain, he couldn’t get sexual thoughts out of his head? Couldn’t stop thinking about all the things they’d done together on this sofa? Working to get rid of them, he knelt in front of her. When she saw the vial, Bree raised her eyebrows as one corner of her mouth quirked up.
