Читать книгу The Nurse's Christmas Temptation / A Mistletoe Kiss For The Single Dad - Ann McIntosh - Страница 14

HARMONY STOOD IN the middle of the apartment, not even taking in the space around her, annoyed at herself for being so curt with her new employer. Not to mention for the sarcastic comment she’d made to him earlier about the water jetpack.

It wasn’t really like her to be that way, but hearing him make light of her innate dislike of risky behavior had irked her—so, like her mother always said, she’d run her mouth, speaking before thinking.

But there was something about him that had put her on edge from the first time she’d looked him in the eyes. He was, she had to admit, a fine specimen. Handsome, in a rugged, outdoorsy kind of way, with brown hair just shy of ginger and blue-gray eyes, his looks alone made him a standout. Couple his face with a body that looked amazing even in a wetsuit, and Harmony knew he must make women’s heads turn faster than wheels on ice.

But it wasn’t his looks that were making her snarky. There was an air about him—an aura of confidence and ease that, conversely, made her tense and jumpy. And when he’d mentioned Christmas, just as she’d promised herself a hiatus from the entire season, it had brought all her pain flooding back.

For almost as long as she could remember Christmas had been a special time for Mum, Gran and Harmony. There was always a flurry of baking, both English treats and Jamaican. And a night specially planned to trim the tree while listening to a variety of holiday music or old movies.

They’d also watch Greetings from Yaad, an hour-long special filmed in Jamaica, in which people could wish their loved ones in England a Merry Christmas. Harmony had used to dislike the amateurishly filmed show, until Gran had said, “We may not know any of these people, but it makes me happy to hear the accents of my youth.”

That had always led to conversations about old times in Jamaica, and even how things had been for Gran when she’d first moved to England. She’d been part of the Windrush generation, coming from the colonies to help with the rebuilding efforts in the UK after World War II. She’d had to leave all her family behind, including Mum, but once she’d gotten herself a job and somewhere to live she’d started saving so she could send for her husband and daughter.

Grandpa had decided he didn’t want to live in England, so eventually Mum had travelled to the UK with her Uncle Shorty, Gran’s brother. Uncle Shorty, a perennial bachelor, had settled in Birmingham, but had come to visit every Christmas until he died, adding to the family fun. Harmony could still remember his plaid driving cap, his booming laugh and the way the scent of smoke and cologne clung to his clothes.

On Christmas Eve they’d have neighbors and friends in and out of the house, each one of them bringing a little gift, receiving goodies in return.

Until they’d passed away her other grandparents had come too, on Christmas morning, even after Dad hadn’t been there anymore, and all Harmony remembered was the joy and closeness. The laughter and sometimes a few shared tears too.

All that was gone now—and darn Dr. MacRurie for reminding her of what she’d lost this year.

But it wouldn’t do to start their working relationship off on a bad footing, and she wondered if it would be politic to apologize to him for her behavior.

Harmony considered that option, then dismissed it. Unless he brought it up, she wouldn’t either. Less said, soonest mended, right?

Suddenly realizing she was in danger of having the doctor come up and find her still standing there like a ninny, Harmony quickly took off her coat and shoes, stowing them in the entryway closet. Then she took a really good look around.

The apartment was a lot larger than she’d expected, with an L-shaped living and dining room and a kitchen almost as big as her mum’s. There were also not two but three good-sized bedrooms, all tastefully decorated with a combination of new and more traditional furniture. And the bathroom, with its deep soaker tub and a separate shower, made her coo.

The entire space had obviously been modernized, but whoever had done it had been careful to keep a lot of the original Victorian elements. The living room fireplace, which was lit, had the most amazing carved mantel and pillars, along with a tile surround and hearth. There were medallions on the ceiling, and intricately carved jambs around the doors. Even the door knobs were decorative, and Harmony found herself smiling as she palmed one of the floral patterned porcelain ovoids.

She staked out the bedroom she wanted, which had a sleigh bed and large windows that were letting in the last of the afternoon light. Outside was a tiny balcony, just big enough for a miniscule wrought-iron table and matching chair, and in the distance was Rurie Manor, sitting in solitary splendor on the top of a gently sloping hill.

It looked gorgeous, and she wondered if she’d get a chance to see the inside. Although if it had been turned into a hotel, she might be disappointed.

Hearing Dr. MacRurie coming up the stairs, she went back into the living area just as he came through the front door.

“Here you go,” he said, putting down her suitcase, seemingly not at all put out by her ill-mannered behavior. “Have you decided which room you want? I’ll put your case on the luggage stand for you.”

“Thank you. That one,” she said, pointing to the still open door, determined to put her best foot forward.

He wheeled the suitcase across the living area, speaking as he went. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here. Caitlin and her husband had a dog, so I gave them a cottage instead—for convenience. Knowing you’d have to be here over the holidays, I figured this place is big enough that if you have someone come for Christmas they can stay with you.”

There he went with the whole Christmas thing again!

“I won’t.” It came instinctively, pain pushing the brusque words out. Drawing herself up, and not wanting to sound as churlish as she felt, she added, “But thank you.”

“Oh.” He’d put her bag in the room and was standing in the doorway, his gaze sharp. But all he said was “Well, if that changes you’ll be all set. But if not at least you won’t be bored. This time of year is nice and busy.”

“This time of year? What’s so special about it?”

Giving her a surprised glance, he said, “Caitlin didn’t tell you?” Then he answered his own question. “Of course, she had other things on her mind. Eilean Rurie is famous for its Winter Festival. Well, it used to be called the Christmas Festival until the eighties, when my grandfather changed the name. We’re called the North Pole of Scotland, and we attract hundreds of people every year.”

Oh, come on.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope.”

He gave her one of his killer smiles, and Harmony’s stomach fluttered, making her look away in case her reaction showed.

“Did you know that celebrating Christmas—well, really it was Yule back then—was banned in Scotland in the sixteenth century? Christmas Day wasn’t made a public holiday until 1958, and Boxing Day was only recognized in the seventies. My great-grandfather decided he wanted to make the holidays a big splash, and encouraged all the islanders to do it too, once the ban was officially lifted. It evolved into the Christmas Festival, and then the Winter Festival, and it’s grown with each year.”

Plunking herself down onto the squishy sofa, Harmony only just stopped herself from putting her head in her hands in disbelief. Hundreds of people, running around singing carols and doing who knew what else?

Just shoot me now!

Yet the smile on the doctor’s face told her there was only one of them in the room who viewed the upcoming festivities with horror. The happy anticipation on his face spoke volumes, and it made Harmony pull herself together once more, even while wondering how many other times this man was going to throw her off-kilter.

“How on earth do you accommodate hundreds of people here? The village doesn’t look big enough.”

“Well, the manor has a lot of rooms, and most of the villagers offer bed and breakfast services, using their spare rooms, or even small apartments attached to their houses. Most of the temporary staff are island kids coming back for winter break, but the others who don’t have a place to stay have dormitories behind the church. A couple of really entrepreneurial souls have even put up a few tiny houses on their properties, and rent those out to visitors. We also get quite a few daytrippers, and the ferry runs more frequently to accommodate them. Most of the residents benefit in some way from the festival. If they didn’t we wouldn’t bother. It’s a lot of work.”

Harmony shook her head in disbelief, still not sure he was telling the truth. “But there’s nothing going on. No one’s putting up lights or decorating.”

“It’s too early,” he said, somewhat cryptically, then added, “Poke around downstairs tomorrow, if you like, or just rest up from your trip. The surgery is closed on Saturday afternoon, and Sunday, although everyone on the island has my number and will call if they need me. I’ve made a list of numbers and left it on the hall table for you, in case you need anything, and the CIs have stocked the fridge—although, who knows what they put in there? Ingrid’s a vegan, and Katherine’s always on some kind of diet, Dora has a sweet tooth that won’t quit, and Sela is crazy for cheese.”

By the time he’d finished his recitation Harmony found herself chuckling. “I’m sure I’ll be able to make a meal of whatever they’ve left, and I’ll bless Dora forever if there’s a chocolate something in amongst the rest.”

Cam was grinning too. “I have no doubt there is, but if you feel up to it nip over to the pub too. They do a really great Scotch pie on Saturdays.”

“Maybe I will,” she said.

“Right, well… I have to go. Final planning meeting tonight, and it will no doubt be a fractious one. When we get to this time of year they usually are, because everyone is so frazzled and behind on everything. If you need anything give me a shout. I always have my phone on me.”

He paused halfway out through the door.

“Oh, and there’s an Armistice Day ceremony at the cenotaph on Monday, starting at ten. Come along, if you’d like.”

Then he was gone, clattering down the stairs, leaving her to wonder why, when she had been so determined to stay away from Christmas, she’d landed in the North Pole of Scotland. And why, having decided to ignore men, she found her boss so damned handsome.

Cam had been right about the meeting being contentious, but he couldn’t seem to keep his mind on the grumbles and arguments going on around him. Instead he found himself thinking about his new nurse. Her sometimes curt way of speaking, juxtaposed with her delightful throaty giggle as he listed the CIs eating habits, made her a fascinating enigma. And, yes, her delicious looks.

Even though he wasn’t interested in relationships he was still all-male—able and willing to appreciate a beautiful face and a lovely curvy figure. As long as he remembered he could look but not touch, it was all good.

“Melanie, the theme was decided back in February. It’s not our fault if you’ve not gotten on board with it.”

At the sound of Dora’s firm rebuttal Cam pulled his thoughts away from Harmony Kinkaid and back to the battle of wills going on in front of him.

“But it’s silly. We did Love as a theme before. Why do it again?”

Melanie was as stubborn as ever, and as one of Scotland’s best-known living potters always felt her word should be law. But Dora never fell in line with that concept.

“That was nigh on twenty years ago. And what better theme could we have for the Winter Festival than that? No matter the religion, or the holiday, love is at the center of them all, isn’t it?”

Cam intervened, before things got too heated.

“Melanie, you know full well it’s too late to change the theme, so either you’ve gone with it or not. The choice was yours.”

Then Hugh Jacobson had a complaint about the decision to extend the festival hours to ten at night. “The strain on the electricity grid will increase, along with the costs. I don’t subscribe to this.”

Cam doubted that was his real reason for complaining. Hugh was probably worried that the extra noise and lights would disturb his mother, but didn’t want to come right out and say so.

“Hugh, the new wind turbine provides more than enough power to cover the additional load, and the generators were serviced last month. The increased revenue for us all will more than offset any additional costs, so I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

“But the noise…the lights on until so late. It’s untenable.”

“I’ll buy you some blackout curtains when I go to the mainland next Wednesday,” Sela interjected, and although Hugh still looked unhappy the meeting moved on.

Afterwards Cam realized he wasn’t the only one thinking about Nurse Kinkaid—although, perhaps not in the same way.

“I thought your new nurse might have come to the meeting. She looks as though she’d be a good addition to the planning team” was Dora’s opening sally.

The last thing Cam wanted was to spend more time with Harmony Kinkaid than necessary. His unsettling reaction to her made keeping her at arm’s length a good thing. Besides, every time he’d mentioned Christmas she had withdrawn at the talk of the season.

But there was no way he was letting Dora and the rest of the nosy CIs know that. His nurse would get no peace until they’d ferreted out the reason for her aversion.

So, trying to protect her as best he could, he said, “First off, let her settle in a bit before you expect her to get into the middle of island life. And, secondly, she’s only going to be here for a short time. Why would you think she’d be interested?”

“Oh, I don’t know that she will be, but it’s always nice to have a fresh face and a new viewpoint in the proceedings. I’m hoping she’ll lend a hand once she finds her feet.”

Thankfully, before he had to think up another round of excuses as to why Harmony probably wouldn’t, Dora and the other ladies were departing with hugs and waves, according to their personal preference.

As he strode down Main Street Cam considered the unlikely friends, each so different and yet all completely devoted to the others. They were the soul and the backbone of the Winter Festival—a point Cam had to concede, despite being almost always annoyed with their attempts to interfere in his life too.

Their organizational skills alone were worth their collective weight in gold, but along with that they also contributed in so many other ways. Designing and sewing costumes, painting backdrops, deciding on the lighting for the public areas and the decoration of the green, making sure everyone who needed help got it… The list went on and on.

If they’d just accept the fact that Cam wasn’t the type to be controlled or tied down, and nor would he be guilt-tripped into things, they’d all get along much better. He’d had enough of that growing up—from his mother. The last thing he needed now was to have four more women fussing over him, trying to get him to do what they thought was best.

When he’d been diagnosed as a type 1 diabetic at the age of four, his mother’s reaction had been to coddle him, fearful of what might happen if he did any of the normal childhood activities. If it hadn’t been for his grandfather, taking him in hand at the age of eleven and teaching Cam how to control his disease, encouraging him to be more adventurous, Cam had no idea how he might have turned out.

Nearing the cemetery, Cam instinctively turned in, walking the familiar path to the spot under a gnarled and now bare oak where a number of his ancestors were interred.

“Evening, Grand-Da,” he said, reaching down to brush a couple of late-fallen leaves off his grandfather’s headstone. “Just left the planning meeting. All the usual nonsense for this time of year. I wonder if there’ll ever be a time where things run smoothly.”

The bench was cold, yet dry, and the evening breeze brisk, but Cam settled in for a little visit. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket, he looked up at the sickle moon.

“Got a new temporary nurse in today and I’m hoping she’ll work out okay.”

He was hoping more than anything else that Harmony Kinkaid wouldn’t turn the relatively stable island world upside down.

Wouldn’t turn his world upside down.

As long as she did her job, he shouldn’t care about anything else. He just needed to get through the winter rush with someone he could count on to keep the surgery going and his patients taken care of, along with aiding with any injuries. After that he’d have the time and head space to find a permanent employee.

All he could hope for was a certain level of professionalism and competence from Harmony Kinkaid. If she could produce that, all would be well.