A Mistletoe Kiss For The Single Dad. Traci Douglass

eat in a minute.” Nick frowned at Dylan. “That’s nine days from now.”

      Belle rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry. I want to respect my aunt’s wishes, but I’ve got obligations in Beverly Hills. I can’t drop everything. There has to be a way around it. Perhaps we could hold the clinic sooner?”

      “That’s impossible.” Nick scrubbed a hand over his face and gave an aggrieved sigh. “It’ll take a week or more just to get everything ready and I’m sure there are repairs to be made. The clinic was pretty run-down the last time I was there. Besides, I have my own practice to contend with before the holidays.”

      “Sorry, guys,” Dylan said. “But Marlene had this will drafted through an estate lawyer in Lansing last year and it’s airtight. I’ve checked. Honestly, the fastest way to get all of this settled is to honor your aunt’s final wishes and reopen the free clinic on Christmas Eve.”

      Frustrated, Belle finally gave in and pulled out her cell phone, to find a text from Dr. Reyes shown on-screen.

      Why aren’t you answering my calls?

      Irritated, Belle clicked off the device and slid it back into her pocket, heat prickling her cheeks. In the operating room she was famous for her cool, calm demeanor under pressure, but spending five minutes with Nick beside her again—bringing up memories of the past—had her cage thoroughly rattled. Belle didn’t like it. Not to mention the free clinic was what had brought her and Nick together in the first place, helping out Aunt Marlene, working side by side to clean exam rooms or prep patients or wrap instruments for sterilization. It was because of those days that the smell of antiseptic still made her smile…

      Ugh. Belle shook off those memories and turned to Nick. “I’m trying to be practical here. I’d think you’d appreciate my efforts, considering your busy work schedule and your son. I loved my aunt. I’d do anything for her, but—”

      “Except honor her final wishes.”

      “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