A Mistletoe Kiss For The Single Dad. Traci Douglass

meat.

      What had happened between them in the past didn’t matter.

      What mattered was the here and now.

      “No. They moved to Florida right after Dad retired a few years back.”

      He glanced across the diner at the Hernandez family, laughing and talking, and yearned to join their relaxed group. Juan and his family had moved to Bayside about a month after Nick and Connor. Juan had transferred to the auto plant nearby from a factory near Guaymas, Mexico. After a bit of a rocky start with learning the language and resettling in a new country, they’d become a beloved part of the community, with little Analia basically having the run of Bayside. Good thing too, since the auto plant had been closed now and Juan was out of work and couldn’t afford to move his family back to Mexico. The community had rallied around them, making sure they had food and clothes and enough money to survive on. Juan was also working construction to make ends meet while his wife tutored high-school kids in Spanish.

      “Do you know them?” Belle asked, watching the Hernandez family, as well.

      “I do. Their daughter is a patient of mine,” he said. “Why?”

      “No reason.” She shrugged and fiddled with her napkin. “Crouzon’s?”

      “Yep.”

      “How old is she?”

      “Con’s age.”

      “She should be ready for the second phase of her surgery soon,” Belle said, all animosity between them gone as they discussed medicine. Funny how that worked.

      “She is, but it’s expensive. Analia’s father lost his job and I’ve been working to get their case taken on pro bono by a colleague of mine in Detroit, but so far the paperwork is still tied up.” Nick sighed and sipped his cherry cola. “They’re doing the best they can. Analia’s happy.”

      “Is she?” Belle glanced at the little girl again, then looked away. “Let’s get back to discussing the free clinic. It’s why we’re here.”

      “The first thing we need to do is get into there and assess the state of things,” he said, forcing an ease he didn’t quite feel. “I’ll call my PA tonight and tell her the situation. See if she can handle the patient load tomorrow by herself until we can work out a schedule.”

      “If repairs need to be made, we’ll have to hire someone. Might be hard to get the work done on such short notice.” Belle surveyed the interior of the diner as she spoke, and he tried to see it through her eyes. Far from the pristine interiors of Rodeo Drive, Pat’s looked like a thrift store had exploded—local knickknacks and memorabilia covering every square inch of wall space.

      “Juan Hernandez might be able to help. He does good work.” He’d helped renovate the house Nick had bought after returning to Bayside. “I’ll ask him if he can stop in tomorrow and take a look.” Nick glanced at the calendar on the wall, donated courtesy of the local volunteer fire department. “If we get started in the morning, that gives us eight days until Christmas Eve.”

      “Fine. But this is all still contingent on my boss granting me an extension on my bereavement leave.” She folded her hands atop the table, prim as a church lady on Sunday.

      Pat set their plates down a few minutes later. “Dinner is served. Enjoy.”

      Nick thanked him then divided the huge burger in two and put half on Con’s plate, along with half the fries, then reached for the ketchup and mustard, noticing Belle picking through her salad. “Are you going to eat your food or sort it to death?”

      “I want to make sure there’s no cheese or croutons hidden in here.”

      “You ordered it without and I’m sure Pat fixed it that way.”

      She kept picking and he rolled his eyes.

      Belle turned her attention to Connor instead. “What do you like to do for fun?”

      His son swallowed a fry, ketchup smeared on his cheek. “I play hockey.”

      “Really?” She gave Nick a surprised look. “So, you won’t let him cross the street or order for himself, but you let him go out on the ice and risk life and limb over a puck?”

      “Hockey is a very safe sport,” Nick ground out, a muscle pulsating near his tense jaw. “The coach supervises the team at all times and takes every precaution to ensure the kids’ safety. Besides, I played when I was his age. It’s good exercise and the team-building skills he learns are essential for later in life.” He gave her arch stare, as if challenging her to contradict him. For reasons he didn’t want to contemplate, he wanted to get a rise out of her. Disrupt that cool exterior of hers and get her as riled up as he felt inside. “If you’re so concerned for my son’s well-being, Connor’s got his last game for the year the day before Christmas Eve in Manistee. Come with us and check it out.”

      The moment the words left his mouth he wanted to take them back. Spending more time around Belle than what he’d already be doing to get the free clinic ready wasn’t a good idea.

      Thankfully, she turned him down anyway. “I’m sure I’ll be busy preparing to reopen the clinic, but I appreciate the invitation.”

      Nick exhaled slowly, feeling like he’d dodged a major bullet. He chewed his burger without tasting it, glancing over to find Connor fiddling with his tablet again. Normally he banned devices at the dinner table and was about to tell his son to stow the electronics away then hesitated.

      Controlling. Belle’s description rubbed him wrong in all the worst place. He wasn’t controlling. He was doing the best he could here, dammit.

      So, instead, he bit back the reprimand for Connor and swallowed it down with another swig of cherry soda. One night of web surfing during dinner wouldn’t hurt anything, right?

      Belle continued nibbling her food like she was at some fancy society luncheon and not Bayside’s best greasy spoon. Nick wasn’t fooled by her pretension, though. She must’ve forgotten he’d seen her covered with mashed potatoes and dripping with cheesy macaroni after a particularly heinous food fight in the school cafeteria. Regardless of their years apart, he knew the real Belle—even if that girl now seemed buried deeper than his beloved Vicki and the future they’d planned. After Connor had been born, he’d dreamed of having more children, more family vacations, more time to just enjoy the life he and Vicki had built together. They’d not married for love, but over their time together their friendship had grown into something better—affection, support, loyalty, trust. Rare and valuable things these days. Vicki had been his go-to person for talking out his problems and sharing his victories. He’d even told her about Belle. In the big and the small ways, he and Vicki had been there for each other. Without her, he’d done his best to manage on his own, charging forward, putting one foot in front of the other each day, doing what had to be done.

      Life had gone on. Different than he’d expected, but onward just the same.

      “After I talk to my boss tonight, I’ll come up with a list of tasks for you to handle and a schedule so we can make sure nothing gets missed,” Belle said, jarring him back to the present.

      Nick snorted and shook his head, focusing on his exhaustion and the grumpiness it caused, because if he didn’t, he’d be too vulnerable, too raw, and that was unacceptable. “Just like old times.”

      “Excuse me?” Belle paused in midbite and gave him a fractious look.

      “You were always bossing everyone around,” he said matter-of-factly, knowing he was pushing her buttons.

      “I am not bossy.” She put down her fork, her movement stiff. “I simply try to show people better ways of doing things.”

      “Sounds bossy to me.”

      “Shut up.”

      “Make me.”

      And just like that they were kids again, back in Marlene’s clinic,