Grumpy Doctor’s Holiday Twins (Forbidden Doctors #17)

7. Melody

7

MELODY

W ith more than a dozen staff members volunteering, the pediatric ward was being transformed into a winter wonderland. I had every support beam wrapped in tinsel and red ribbon. Patient doors were being individually wrapped with wrapping paper and bows, and fake snow was being applied to every window, with white fluff being added around the tops of door frames to make it look like it had snowed indoors.

I felt light and happy, like I was floating on a cloud, as Dr. Hart wrestled another blue barrel into place at the corner of a hallway intersection near the elevators. When he had arrived to volunteer, I was pleasantly surprised, and he quickly latched onto me to partner with for hanging posters and placing barrels for the toy drive.

"That one felt heavier than the last three. Are you sure you haven’t weighed them down?" Lucas's eyes sparkled with mirth as he straightened and put a hand on his lower back.

"You never can tell around here. Maybe I'm just being a sneaky South Pole elf." I winked at him and reached up to hold a poster in place on the wall where I would tape it. It slipped from my hand and floated to the floor, and both Lucas and I bent to get it at the same time. We knocked heads and I stood up holding mine while he retrieved the dropped poster.

I chuckled but he said, "Sorry about that."

"No big deal," I told him, but the moment had us standing a bit closer together than two professionals at work should. I didn’t mind. He was sweet and endearing and this entire morning, he'd been talking about his love for Christmas and how he wanted children so he could keep the magic of it all going.

I rubbed my head as he lifted the poster up to the wall and reached for the tape. There was an undeniable spark when our fingers touched, and I blushed. My head smarted, but somehow, seeing the smile on his face eased the ache. I missed this part of the holiday, being around people who genuinely loved the season and all of its magic. Lucas had a way of making me feel like a kid again.

"So, where should we put the next one?" I asked as he taped the poster in place. When he was finished, he turned and handed me the roll of tape with a huge grin on his face.

"Well, we aren't just collecting toys from folks in pediatrics, so I say we put one in the main lobby too." He dusted his hands, and I tucked the tape into my pocket.

"Perfect idea. We just have to go get the barrel from the loading dock and haul it across campus." I snickered as he feigned weariness and touched his back again. It made us both laugh, though I imagined the heavy lifting might be straining him.

"You are such a delight to be around, Melody. I'm really glad I came to help. This has been such a positive experience." We strolled toward the elevators to descend to the loading dock and collect the next barrel. I pressed the call button and turned to him.

"Me too. It's been such a long time since I felt this joyful at Christmastime. You just have such a great attitude about things. Thank you for helping me feel the joy of the season." I folded my hands in front of myself and sighed happily. Returning to Mistletoe Springs had been a tough choice with all the memories, good and bad, but I knew it was best for Dad and the twins. This experience made me feel more at home.

"You know, I know you said you just are very busy, but maybe we could have lunch together? I can adjust my schedule to eat at the same time you have lunch, and we can do it right here on the clock."

His invitation was tempting because I really clicked well with him. We had similar passions and interests, and I did crave companionship. But I also had seen how messy things got with dating coworkers. The situation with Ethan had been complicated by the fact that he was John’s best friend, but that didn't negate the fact that the non-frat policy existed, and that gave Ethan and me challenges too.

I opened my mouth to respond, but the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Ethan stalked out with a grumpy expression and dark shadows on his face. It looked like he'd been up all night drinking and had a major hangover. His hair was coiffed, though, and he had a cup of coffee in hand.

"Ethan," I breathed, realizing I should have said, "Dr. Sinclair."

Lucas looked at me oddly and took a step back, holding the elevator door open. Ethan stood between me and the carriage, and I felt stuck.

"I’m here to help get the Christmas stuff over with." His grumpy tone stood in stark contrast to the hopeful presence Lucas had created while we worked. I wanted to get in the elevator and keep enjoying the more pleasant man, but as the person organizing the day's events, I knew I had to give Ethan at least some direction.

"Go on, Luke. I'll catch up." I addressed him informally as a token of friendship with the hope that I wouldn't disappoint him by not having answered his question.

He slipped into the elevator and vanished, and Ethan loomed over me like a storm cloud. His dark suit and black trench coat weren't exactly the type of clothing one wore to do the sort of work we were doing, but as department head, it was how he dressed. I knew he took the task seriously.

"We, uh…" I glanced around and saw the large mural hand drawn and yet unpainted. The paints and brushes sat on the floor nearby and the entire thing had already been prepared. "We can work on the mural. We just paint inside the lines…" I moved that direction, and he scoffed but said nothing. His Grinch-like behavior irritated me, but I refused to let him get me down.

I rolled up the sleeves of my sweatshirt and dug in, finding a nice red for the candy cane village drawn by one of the nurses. Ethan took off his trench and his suit coat but left his tie on. And he didn't even roll up his sleeves. It was a comical sight watching a man in a thousand-dollar outfit with a cup of paint try to do artwork on the wall without getting it on himself. I hid my amusement so as not to make his grumpiness worse.

We worked together in silence for a while, but it wasn't the amicable silence Lucas and I had shared. It was tense. I noticed him looking at me out of the corner of my eye and remembered what John had said about him not being himself. I could see it during every interaction. Part of me felt guilty for that, but part of me knew he had his own choices to make, and he could decide to be happier if he wanted.

"So, twins, huh?"

His out-of-the-blue comment made me stiffen for a moment, but I kept painting. It wasn't so inconceivable that John would have told him about the twins. They were best friends. What worried me was how much John had told him. I would never lie to Ethan and keep them from him if he found out and wanted them. But I knew he would never be happy here. Just seeing how miserable he was back in town for a few weeks proved that. He wanted to be overseas.

"Yeah…" I muttered, wondering where this was going. He was a smart man. It takes time to gestate, and if he connected the dots, the next comment would surely be a question about their father.

But he worked in silence a bit more before saying, "You must have your hands full."

I breathed a sigh of relief but the guilt still needled at me. "I didn't realize you were taking an interest in my personal life again."

"Hm," was all he said, and I wondered what that was supposed to mean. Things were so stiff and cold, I felt like I'd lost my ability to read him. I had no clue what to say to him. It was like we were worlds apart and the ease with which we used to interact had been destroyed.

My paint was almost out, and I saw him staring into the cup he had. This was so painful, and my heart longed to go run after Lucas and help move more barrels and talk about Christmas festivities to get my mind off anything to do with Ethan. I turned to him and held my hand out.

"You don't have to stay, Ethan. I can tell your heart isn't in this."

He stared at me blankly and looked like he was about to say something when a young boy carrying a teddy bear barreled around the corner and slammed into me. I lurched forward, and the cup of paint in my hand sloshed all over the front of Ethan's shirt. He took a step back, dropping his own cup of paint, which was mostly dry, and swiped at his tie.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry," I blurted out, and the boy raced off toward the elevators, soon to be joined by very grumpy parents who hadn't seen the collision or the mess he made. "Here, come with me," I told him, grabbing his hand. I left the floor as a casualty and led him to the nurses’ station where I had grabbed a pile of hand towels and started dabbing his chest.

"I can get it," he protested, but I was insistent. This suit had to be so expensive, and I ruined it. "Mel, please," he said, backing away, and I stepped forward.

"Please, Just let me?—"

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" I heard and I looked up at the nurse chanting. A few more chimed in, and both Ethan and I looked up at the ceiling where the mistletoe I had told them to hang dangled overhead.

The town's name was picked because of this stupid plant and I knew for a fact if either of us walked away, we'd be the hospital gossip for weeks. No one broke the tradition of a kiss under mistletoe, not even if you were married or it was a member of the same sex. Tradition was tradition.

I could see him stiffen, shoulders square and eyes glazing over. He knew it too, that to kiss me once would be less traumatic in the long run than to risk anyone calling us tradition breakers. But he didn't make a move and the chanting continued.

So I rose up on my tiptoes and placed a very chaste closed-mouth kiss on his firm lips. He didn't kiss me back, nor did he try to steady me when I bobbled, but the nurses cheered and clapped and went about their business.

The sizzling heat, however, lingered on my lips as I lowered back to flat feet and he snagged the rag out of my hands. I saw the flash of emotion in his eyes but couldn't read it. Was he mad? Or was he hurting?

"I have to go," he grumbled, then turned and walked away, leaving his trench coat and suit coat lying where he dropped them.

Emotion flooded me and I touched my lips softly. We still had that same zing of chemistry, though he seemed to hate it. And suddenly, it made my heart hurt that he was hurting. I wanted him to come back so I could explain myself or help him relax a little, and any thought of the dreamy Dr. Hart was gone.

How could I show Ethan that being in this town wasn't as awful as he thought it was?