A Mistletoe Kiss For The Single Dad

“How dare you?” Outrage stormed through Belle like a thundercloud. She sat back and crossed her arms. “Dylan, are we finished? I’d like to get a good night’s sleep and consider this all again with a clear head in the morning. Can we continue this tomorrow?”

“Not so fast,” Nick answered instead, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “I’ll need to check my schedule to see if I can fit in another meeting. My clinic is slammed this time of year as it is, and I need to check with my physician’s assistant to be sure she can handle the extra workload. Plus, Connor needs to be picked up from school. Then there’s dinner and getting him to bed.” At Belle’s irritated sigh, he narrowed his gaze on her. “Or maybe you’d prefer I pull an all-nighter like I did in college?”

She hid her cringe admirably. Any reminder of college and that awful night she’d made her surprise visit to see him had the knots of tension in Belle’s upper back quadrupling.

“Dad.” Connor’s tone grew more plaintive. “I’m starving.”

“Give me one more minute.” Nick gave a long-suffering sigh, his voice dull. “Look, I realize I’m the last person you want to partner with here, Belle, but Marlene made it clear in her will this is what she wanted and unless we do this together, it will never work.”

Darn it, he was right. Much as she hated to admit it.

Fatigue and sadness crowded in around her once more, but duty compelled her to stand firm. “I want to help, I do. But my boss is already texting me about his unreturned calls.” She shook her head. Disappointing people was her least favorite thing, even people like Nick. “Plus, I’ve got opportunities on the line back in California. I have to keep my priorities straight.”

“What about your aunt’s wishes?” Nick said. “Shouldn’t she be your priority right now?”

The words struck her like a slap in the face and ricocheted inside her chest like shrapnel. When she’d been eighteen she would’ve given anything to hear him ask her to stay. Now it felt like one more complication in an already chaotic mess.

Her cell phone buzzed again, most likely with another text from Dr. Reyes.

Through the window behind Dylan’s desk the sky glowed pink and gold and deepest purple as the sun set and people milled about outside after the funeral. Belle smoothed her hand down her black skirt, her head aching. She’d only returned to Bayside to close this chapter of her life for good. With Aunt Marlene gone, there was no reason for her to come back here again after this. She was alone in the world now and the thought made her weary beyond her thirty-six years.

“Don’t mean to rush you, folks.” Dylan cleared his throat. “But I’ve got a holiday dance recital for my daughter tonight, so if we could wrap this up, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Right.” Determined, Belle stood and grabbed her bright red cashmere coat from the back of her chair. “I guess that’s it, then.”

“Oh, there is one more thing.” Dylan pulled something out of one of his desk drawers. “Marlene had a small amount left in her savings after the medical bills were paid. It goes to each of you.” He passed two envelopes across the desk. “Ten thousand dollars each. And there’s a copy of the will in there for each of you too.”

Belle tucked the envelope inside her handbag without looking at it. “Nick, if you can’t make a formal meeting, perhaps we can schedule a conference call tomorrow to discuss this further?”

He shook his head. “I’ll make it work. Your aunt wanted us to do this and I intend to honor her final wishes.”

A swirling vortex of grief opened in the pit of Belle’s stomach, making her temples throb.

“Dad,” Connor said, frowning. “I’m hungry-y-y…”

Nick waved his son over then walked to the door before turning back to Belle. “Do you have plans for dinner? If not, you’re welcome to join us at Pat’s. We can talk more there.”

Honestly, she didn’t have plans. In fact, her stomach was rumbling, and her new designer pumps were pinching her toes something terrible. She’d also not had a chance to pick up any groceries and nothing stayed open past eight in Bayside. “Fine. But only to discuss the clinic, not to socialize.”

“Agreed.” Nick pulled on his own black wool coat then ushered her and his son outside. “No socializing here. Promise.”

As they headed into the chilly mid-December night, Nick eyed Belle’s stiletto pumps with trepidation. Seemed she’d forgotten what winters could be like here in Michigan. Sure enough, as they trudged across the slick pavement, her feet slipped, and she clutched his arm like a lifeline.

“You need boots.”

“I have boots. They’re in my suitcase inside the funeral home.” She stiffened beside him and released his arm, clutching her coat tighter around herself. “I’ll be sure to wear them tomorrow.”

He shook his head. Her coat probably cost more than his house and all its contents. When he’d been at the top of the pediatric surgery ladder in Atlanta, he’d seen plenty of women dressed to the nines in designer duds. Hell, he’d worn his share of tuxes back then too. Now, though, he dressed for comfort. He’d moved back to Bayside a year and a half ago, given up his high-pressure lifestyle and all the stress along with it, and wouldn’t change his decision for the world. Connor was better off with fresh air and room to grow. Losing his wife, Vicki, had been hard on both of them, but Bayside was home.

Always had been. Always would be. At least for him.

He hunched farther down inside his wool coat and turned the collar up against the brisk wind now rolling in off Lake Michigan. Weathermen predicted snow tonight, from what he’d heard on the radio on his way over to the funeral.

Belle slipped again. He reached for her elbow, but she pulled away. “I’ve got it.”

“Yeah. I can see that.”

He stifled a grin at her peeved glare.

Connor walked along ahead of them, oblivious.

“Don’t cross the street by yourself, son,” Nick called. “Wait for us.”

Belle gave him some serious side-eye at the same time his son gave him a perturbed stare.

“He’s eight, right?” she asked.

“Yes.” Nick bristled at her judgmental tone. Fine. Maybe Connor was old enough to start doing things on his own, but Nick wasn’t there yet. He was trying, but his son was growing up—far faster than Nick wanted sometimes—and guilt lingered in his heart. He did his best to be both mom and dad to Connor, but there were only so many hours in a day and it was just the two of them. Besides, Belle had no right to question his parenting style. Still, in an effort to keep the peace he swallowed the words he wanted to say and instead pointed to a redbrick building across the street on the corner. “Diner’s over there.”

“I know where Pat’s is.” Belle’s tone snapped with affront. So much for not arguing. “I’m from here, remember?”

“Figured you forgot. Kind of like your boots.”

She glared at him, her green eyes glittering in the dim streetlight.

The three of them crossed the street and pushed inside the restaurant. Pat Randall—the diner’s proud owner for over thirty years—waved to Nick from behind the counter, oblivious to the tension pulsating around them like a force field. “Hey, Doc. Con.”

A few other patrons were eating a late dinner there too, probably having wandered over after Marlene’s service. Some were his patients, like little Analia Hernandez and her family. She was the same age as Connor and would’ve been in his class at school, but she’d been born with Crouzon syndrome, a rare genetic condition that had caused the bones of her skull to fuse prematurely. There was no mental deficiency associated with the disorder, thank goodness, but the concave shape of her midface did contribute to the little girl’s breathing issues. Still, Analia was happy and confident, always quick with a grin and brimming with curiosity. Analia raised a hand at Connor as they passed their table. “Hey, Con.”

“Hey, Ana.” Con waved back.

They took a table near the far wall and Belle sat gingerly, like the whole place might blow up in her face. Nick sat in the chair beside Connor’s, across from Belle, and raked a hand through his hair, his appetite buried under the uncomfortable feelings stirred by seeing Belle again after all these years. With her living out in California, it had been easier for him to keep her as more of an abstract notion in his head.

A woman, the woman, from his past. Always there, but quarantined, like a dangerous virus that could easily hijack his system. Now, though, with her back in Bayside, even temporarily, he was forced to reconcile the promise he’d made to Vicki with reality. He’d let Belle go back in high school and obviously she’d moved on and done well for herself. She’d left Bayside and him behind eighteen years ago and hadn’t looked back since. He should be happy, overjoyed, well and truly done with it all.

Why then did his heart pinch a little each time he caught sight of Belle now?

Must be stress. Had to be. He’d headed to Marlene’s funeral directly after spending sixteen hours in his clinic and he had another full schedule tomorrow. Maybe Belle had been correct. Maybe they should have put this conversation off until he’d gotten some sleep, had some peace and quiet to get his life in order again.

Except deep down he knew it wouldn’t change anything.

Work. Connor. Home.

Those were his driving forces now.

The only things that mattered.

Dinner with Belle, anything to do with Belle really, shouldn’t be on his radar.