The Surgeon's Christmas Wish. Annie O'Neil

Читать онлайн книгу.

The Surgeon's Christmas Wish - Annie O'Neil


Скачать книгу
He might find it a bit chilly to work out the season in his snowmen socks.”

      Tara quickly entered the exam room before letting the full impact of Fraser MacKenzie’s tall, dark and ridiculously handsome looks sink in. Chestnut-brown hair with the perfect amount of salt and pepper at the temples. A pair of blue eyes that seemed backlit they were so bright. And the cheekbones. Knock-your-knees-out-from-under-you cheekbones. Her personal weakness.

      For heaven’s sake! She felt jittery enough after their high-speed run-in on the slopes. Having to absorb the fact she’d somehow hired the living, breathing image of her fantasy man—complete with a sexy Scottish accent—was too much.

      “Are you all right, Doctor?”

      A young woman stood up from the exam-room chair and reached out an arm to Tara as if to steady her.

      “That’s my line!” Tara tried to quip, hoping to retain the smallest modicum of professionalism. Patients first. Heart doing a wild jitterbug? Not an option. Not any more.

      “Now, who’s this?”

      “I’m Henry and this is my Mom.” The blond boy sitting on Tara’s exam table piped up. He seemed in good enough spirits despite the worried expression on his mother’s face and the large pack of frozen vegetables he held over his eye.

      “May I have a look?” She took the packet from him and placed it on the exam table.

      “Wow! That’s one heck of a panda eye you have there, young man.” Wincing with sympathy, she continued, “I’m glad to see your mother was smart enough to bring out the frozen peas!”

      “We told him to wait until we were up to put on his ski boots, but you just couldn’t hold on, could you, Henry?” Mrs. Carroll smiled lovingly at her boy, but Tara could see how concerned she was.

      He did have a small cut above his eye, but it wasn’t bleeding. What concerned Tara more was how gingerly he was holding his wrist.

      “Henry, it’s nice to meet you. I am Dr. Braxton.” She gave him the most relaxed smile she could muster despite the flock or herd or whatever it was of butterflies still careering round her stomach. Thanks a heap, Dr. MacKenzie.

      “Would you like to tell me what happened?”

      “Sure!” Henry smiled up at her after getting a reassuring nod from his mother. “Mom and Dad told me not to put on my boots until we went skiing. So this morning I knew we were going skiing and no one was up yet, but I was excited, so I brought my boots upstairs to try them on outside Mom and Dad’s room and they fit so I started to walk downstairs to get some juice because I was thirsty and …” Here he stopped and shot an anxious look at his mother.

      “Go on, you silly little thing.” His mother couldn’t help laughing at her son’s pell-mell style of story. “Tell the doctor what happened next.”

      “Well … it turns out it was harder to go down the stairs than I thought and I tripped and fell and bumped all the way to the bottom.” Henry gave Tara a triumphant grin.

      “Looks like you showed those stairs who was boss.” Tara smiled at his bravery.

      “If this isn’t proof my husband should’ve booked a cabin instead of the townhouse, I don’t know what is!” Mrs. Carroll was trying to keep her voice light, but a slight waver betrayed her anxiety.

      Tara smiled reassuringly. “Believe me, accidents can happen anywhere. I’m sure this was nothing you could have foreseen. Henry, do you mind if I take a look at your wrist?”

      The little boy automatically pulled his arm towards his stomach.

      “It’s okay, Henry. I know it must hurt.” Tara reached into a drawer behind her and pulled out a child’s instant cold compress. Giving the packet an experienced twist and shake, she handed it to the boy. “Why don’t you hold this on your wrist for a minute?” Once he had the pack resting on his arm, Tara continued, “I’d better do a check to make sure you didn’t conk your head too hard when you landed.” She bent her knees so she was level with his eye line. “Can you just follow my finger?”

      A few tests and a soft splint later, Tara felt satisfied that Henry had no permanent damage.

      “Looks like you have a resilient son here, Mrs. Carroll, but I’m afraid his wrist is sprained. I think we can safely rule out a break as he has a full range of movement despite the swelling. Forty-eight hours of rest, elevation and cold compresses should help ease the pain.”

      Tara couldn’t stop herself from ruffling Henry’s curly blond hair. She’d always imagined she’d have a little boy. A couple of them. Not that she was too bothered if they were boys or girls. Just healthy kids, part of a happy family. Ah, well. Dreams were just that. Fanciful flights of your imagination. No room for those any more.

      Clearing her throat, Tara wiggled a playful finger at Henry. “Be sure to listen to your mom, now. We’ll get you back out on those slopes lickety-split.” Henry grinned with relief.

      Turning, Tara addressed Henry’s mother, “Make sure you call me if he complains of any dizziness, nausea or starts to have any balance problems. Here’s a sheet listing concussion symptoms to look out for, but I’m pretty certain you’re in the clear.”

      “Thank you so much, Dr. Braxton. This will certainly make our Thanksgiving vacation more interesting! I hope you and your family have a great holiday.”

      Tara’s brow cinched into a furrow, her thumb moving mechanically to the finger that had once held a diamond solitaire. She was here on her own. And that’s how she liked it.

      “Just me and my stethoscope, I’m afraid!” Tara shook the stethoscope in what she hoped looked like a carefree manner.

      “I’m so sorry, I just assumed …” The poor woman looked mortified.

      “Not to worry. An easy mistake to make.”

      Tara held her smile until the mother and son walked out of her exam room.

      Just the mountains and me. Just the way I like it.

      Fraser grinned as the cowbell rang out when he entered the log cabin-style café next to the clinic. He’d spent seasons in all types of ski resorts, but there was something different about Deer Creek. His staff condo didn’t have the usual temporary feeling hanging about it and the resort village itself, just a small main street with a smattering of specialized shops and a fire department, was … welcoming. That was it. Welcoming. The place made him feel like he’d come home. Which was rich coming from someone who’d been born several thousand miles away and had actively avoided having a permanent address for the past four years.

      He felt his smile fade. Four years. Four years that would never bring his brother back, no matter how many times he went over his options that day. He’d survived. His kid brother hadn’t. It was as simple as that.

      Fraser shook the thoughts away and stepped up to the counter heaving with scones, fruity muffins, oversized brownies, and to-die-for cookies. He didn’t usually go in for baked goods so early, but he had just snowboarded for a good hour.

      “What can I do you for?” A cheerful woman behind the counter with a thick braid running down her back smiled up at him.

      “What would you recommend for a man who is about to start his first day of work?”

      “Ooh! New job, eh? First impressions are very important.”

      Fraser winced at the memory of the first impression he’d made on Tara. Definitely not a winning one, that was for sure. Ah, well. It’s not strictly as if his new colleague had skied straight off the slopes of the Deer Creek charm academy.

      “You will want to have just the right breakfast if you’re going to cut it up here in Deer Creek.” Her eyes twinkled as she put on a mock expression of gravity and scanned his options.

      “If I were you, and bear in mind I made everything you see here before


Скачать книгу