A Kiss, A Dance & A Diamond

“I was not!” his brother said hotly and waved his hand and then yelped in pain. “You said I couldn’t cast my line and you kept laughing.”

“You were casting like a girl,” the older Radici brother said. “And into a bucket in the backyard. That’s not even real casting. You can’t do anything.”

“I can so!”

“You’re such a baby,” the older boy said.

Kieran looked at Nicola and saw that she was frowning.

“Johnny,” she scolded. “Please don’t make things worse.”

The older boy had a scowl so deep it creased his forehead. He shrugged. “I’m gonna sit over there.”

Kieran smiled to himself. It would be exactly the same conversation he might once have had with his own brothers when they were kids. He watched as Johnny shuffled sulkily across the triage zone and plunked into a chair, then took a gaming console out of his small backpack, shoved plugs into his ears and ignored all of them.

Kieran looked at the younger child. “You know, when we were kids, my brother Liam always said I couldn’t fish as well as he could. I was younger, and my arms weren’t as long as his. But you know what? I grew up taller than him.”

The boy looked at him for the first time and his eyes widened. “You did?”

“Yep,” Kieran replied and grinned. “And now I’m a way better fisherman than he is.”

“Really?” he asked, looking pensive.

“Really,” Kieran assured him.

The boy shrugged. “It’s not really fishing. It’s just a bucket and some plastic toys.”

“Well,” Kieran said as he moved around the bed and dropped the clipboard onto it. “Maybe you’ll get so good you can do it for real sometime.”

Kieran saw a kind of wary panic cross the child’s face, and he looked quickly toward Nicola. She glanced sideways, and he saw her shake her head slightly. He sensed something was wrong but didn’t comment further. Instead, he washed his hands in the sink, pulled on a pair of gloves and then gently placed the boy’s wrapped hand on a small rolling table. “Okay, let’s see what you’ve done. First, though, you better tell me your name.”

“Marco,” he muttered, his lip wobbling.

“Okay, Marco,” Kieran said and began to unwrap the makeshift bandage. “Let’s do this.”

The boy whimpered a little, calming when Nicola moved forward and grasped his other hand. Kieran tried not to think about how it was the closest he’d been to her in fifteen years. Or about how he could pick up the scent of her vanilla shampoo over the antiseptic that usually lingered in the air. The scent was suddenly so familiar it made him glance sideways.

She wasn’t looking at him, though. Her attention was focused solely on her nephew.

He could see how she was slightly biting her bottom lip and remembered how she used to do that when she was deep in thought, like when they’d been studying together back in high school. Of course, studying usually turned into making out, which often led to more. Back then he’d been crazy for her, mad for her beautiful hair, sexy curves and warm brown eyes. A typical horny teenage boy who couldn’t get enough of his first real girlfriend. Back then, in the three years they’d dated, Kieran was sure he and Nicola would go the distance, that they’d go to college, travel the world, get married one day, have a family. But that was a kid’s dream. Because the moment Nicola had suggested they get engaged before they headed off to college, he’d freaked out. He’d felt trapped and afraid that settling down so young would derail his career. And he’d never quite forgiven himself for hurting her the way he had.

And, clearly, she hadn’t, either.

There were tears in Marco’s eyes, and Kieran focused his attention on the child. He was a quiet sort of kid, clearly in pain, but trying to be brave. “You know, if you want to say ouchywowah, you can.”

The child’s eyes widened. “Ouchy, what?”

“Ouchywowah,” Kieran said and finished unwrapping the bandage. “Saying it three times helps make the pain go away. But you have to say it quietly,” he explained, not daring to look at Nicola. “Like, in a whisper...or it doesn’t work.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Kieran assured him and smiled to himself as the boy began chanting the word over and over. Silly as it was, it seemed to help Marco concentrate on something other than his injury and, ten minutes later, Kieran had removed the fishing hook impaled between Marco’s fingers, cleaned and stitched the injury and ordered some pain medication. He left the nurse to dress the young boy’s hand, while he did something he didn’t want to do: speak to Nicola—alone.

“I’ve arranged for a scrip for some painkillers you can fill at the hospital pharmacy, and I’d like to see him again in a few days, to make sure he’s free from infection,” he explained as they walked through triage, away from the two boys and through to the waiting room outside.

Other than her nephews, the nurse on duty in triage and a couple of nurses in the reception area, the place was empty, and Kieran experienced a sudden and acute sense of discomfort. They were, in a sense, alone for the first time in fifteen years.

And he could tell by the look in her brown eyes that he was about to get the telling off he figured was a decade and a half in the making...

* * *

Don’t do it...

Nicola chanted the words to herself over and over. She didn’t want to make a scene. She didn’t want to spend any more time in Kieran O’Sullivan’s presence. But damn, it was hard. He was still too gorgeous for words...six foot two and a half, broad shoulders, brownish-blond hair that still flopped over his forehead when he tilted his head, glittering blue eyes and dark lashes. And the whiskery shadow across his jaw was too attractive for words. Not exactly a beard, but enough to give him a kind of rugged sexiness. She wished he’d grown up to be bald and pudgy. She wished he hadn’t decided to permanently return to Cedar River. She wished he hadn’t been so kind and considerate with Marco and that her nephew hadn’t actually responded to him—which was way more than he did with most people. She wished a whole lot of things. And in that moment she wished she could turn on her heels and leave the hospital as quickly as she could.

But she couldn’t.

She had Johnny and Marco to think about.

A deep surge of grief coursed through her entire body when she thought about her older brother, Gino, and sister-in-law, Miranda. She loved her nephews but worried she wasn’t measuring up in the parent department. And along with running the restaurant and her father’s swiftly declining health, she had enough on her plate without adding an old boyfriend into the mix.

But...she was mad.

Seething.

Kieran O’Sullivan had no right coming back to town! He’d set the rules on graduation day. He wanted a life and a career away from Cedar River. He didn’t want any ties. He didn’t want a girlfriend. He didn’t want to get engaged. He wanted to be able to screw around in college. He wanted his freedom.

She should have seen it coming. In the weeks before graduation, he’d been distant and closed off and had avoided her like the plague. Ever since she’d suggested they make a real commitment to one another before heading off to separate colleges. And then, on graduation day, he’d dumped her, saying he didn’t want to be tied down...by her or Cedar River.

But now he was back.

And suddenly, all her pent-up rage, despair and resentment was pointing in one direction. And even though she knew that being angry was illogical after so many years, she couldn’t help it.

“You’re a real jerk,” she said and waved her hands. “You know that? Why did you have to come back? Egoista, bastardo di cuore freddo!” she cursed in Italian, feeling her skin heat more with each passing second and fighting the urge to take a swipe at his handsome face. “Ti odio!”

I hate you...

They were strong words, and she knew he understood them. But he didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak. Didn’t do anything other than take her ranting at him as though he’d been expecting it. And that amplified her anger tenfold. She didn’t want him to be compliant and agreeable and ready for her insults. She wanted him to respond so she could go in for another round. And another. Until she was spent and done with all the pain she still harbored from her broken, seventeen-year-old-girl’s heart.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Nicola tilted her chin. “Your apology is about fifteen years too late.”

“I know that, too.”

Nicola drew in a sharp breath. Typical of Kieran to be so damned agreeable! “I’ll take Marco to our usual doctor,” she said flatly. “That way I won’t have to see you again.”

“If that’s what you’d prefer.”