Falling For Her Army Doc / Healed By Their Unexpected Family. Dianne Drake
made her feel better. Today she was feeling great. Something that hadn’t happened very much recently.
“In fact, there are several shops, so you’ll have a choice of clothing.”
He stood, gave her an appreciative stare, and slipped into his sandals. “So what kind of clothing are we talking about?” he asked, as his gaze stopped on her exposed belly.
“Whatever you like. Do you remember the way you used to dress?”
She did like the three-day stubble on him, and hoped it wouldn’t go once he’d fixed himself up.
“I remember scrubs. A couple of suits… Don’t know if I used to hate them then, but the thought of wearing a suit now…” He faked a gigantic cringe. “Pretty sure I slept in the buff.”
“Too much information,” Lizzie said, fighting back a grin—and a vision of Mateo in the buff.
As a doctor, she’d seen a lot of him, but not all. As a woman, her fantasies went well beyond—and that was dangerous.
Mateo and her on the beach. On a blanket. Him rubbing sunscreen on her back, her shoulders, her thighs…
Definitely dangerous territory, since she hadn’t sorted out what kind of man, if any, she wanted in her future. “You’ve been in the Army for a while. You weren’t sleeping in the buff there.”
He laughed. “Well, maybe if I didn’t in the past, it’s something I might start doing in the future.”
“Beach shorts. Tropical print, lightweight, somewhat baggy, stopping just at the tops of your knees. And a sleeveless T-shirt. Maybe some cargo shorts and a few cotton floral print button-up shirts. Also a pair of long khaki pants, with a white, breezy cotton shirt.”
“And here I was, picturing myself more as a surf bum.”
“Do you surf?” she asked, her mind still stuck on beach shorts and sleeveless T-shirts.
“Don’t have a clue. Do you want to teach me?”
“Your last doctor advised you to stay away from activities like that for at least four months. It hasn’t been four months.”
“Then it’s a good thing my last doctor no longer has a say, and my new friend just might be willing to show me some basic, non-threatening surfing moves. If she surfs.”
“She does—and she’s very good at it.” She hadn’t done nearly as much of it as she would have liked, owing to her dad’s condition, alongside her hyper zest for work. But the thought of surfing with Mateo—well, at least bodyboarding—caused a little flush of excitement. “And if she decides to take you out, she’s in complete control.”
“I never thought she wouldn’t be.” He smiled. “Anyway, my look is your decision. Except red. I won’t wear red.”
“Why not? With your dark skin color…”
He shook his head. “Too much like blood. I’ve seen more of that than I care to. Worn too much of that on me. No red.”
“Red’s overdone,” she said, hiking her oversize canvas bag up to her shoulder. “But blue…that’s a color.”
“So is yellow,” he said, smiling. “On you.”
“Then you’re the type of guy who notices these things about a woman, because in my experience—”
“What experience?” he interrupted.
“Well, in my case not much lately.”
Not for years, to be honest. But Mateo didn’t need to be burdened with her problems when he had enough of his own to wrestle with.
“You know what they say about all work and no play?” he quipped lightly.
“You’re right about that,” she returned.
“No, seriously. What is it they say?” His eyebrows knit into a frown.
“You don’t remember?” she asked, highly suspicious of the twinkle in his eyes.
Was this the real Mateo coming out, or one he was inventing just for her? She’d seen that in patients before—turning into the person they believed she wanted to see. The patient with excruciating headaches who refused to admit to them just to maintain a certain image. The patient with Parkinson’s disease who denied his symptoms as a way of denying the disease.
People showed what they wanted—either to deny to themselves or put on a brave front for someone else—and she couldn’t help but wonder if that was what Mateo was doing…showing her a side of himself he believed she wanted or needed to see. Maybe to maintain the roof over his head for a while? Maybe because he wanted to impress her?
Whatever was going on, she liked that spark, and hoped it was genuine.
He chuckled. “Of course I do. I was just wondering if you did, since you practically admitted you don’t play. But you’re not dull, Lizzie. Maybe not bursting with as much joie de vivre as you could be, or maybe should be, but definitely not dull.”
“Well, dull is in the eye of the beholder, I suppose. I’ve never thought of myself as particularly effervescent, though.”
That was the truth. She was hard-working, serious, dedicated, and passionate about her career, but when it came to the personal aspects of her life, there’d never been much there. Not enough time. Or real interest.
“Then maybe you’re not seeing what I’m seeing.”
“Or maybe you don’t know what you’re seeing because you’ve forgotten what effervescence looks like in a person.”
She motioned him to follow her off the lanai and then to the road in the front of the house. The hospital, and her home, were just a little way outside La’ie, on the north end of the island. It was out of the way, but bursting with life.
A lot of people at the hospital commuted up from Honolulu, or one of the larger cities to the south, like Kane’ohe, but she liked this area—liked the relative smallness of it, loved the people. Even though she’d left huge and disproportionate New York City for this, she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else now.
Could she return to big city living? If she had to. Would she want to, though? Not a chance. Living in paradise had spoiled her.
“So, what we’re going to see will be surf shops for the most part. There are a couple of shops that specialize in other things—clothes that are more traditional, shoes, those sorts of things. And then there are the food vendors. All I can say is…heaven.”
“Where every day is a holiday?”
“It can be, if that’s what you want. Oh, and just so you know, I need to run into the hospital and sign some papers. You’re welcome to come in with me, or wait outside if the old familiar surroundings make you uncomfortable.”
“Snakes make me uncomfortable. And bullets. And I don’t think I’m especially fond of clingy women, but I could be wrong about that one. Oh, and cats.”
“You don’t like cats?” she asked.
“Actually, I love cats. Love their independence and attitude. But I’m allergic.”
“I’ve always wanted a cat. Or a dog. But we moved around too much, and my dad didn’t think it would be practical, taking an animal with us. I had a goldfish once. His name was Gus. Had to give him to a friend when we moved from Virginia to Germany.”
“Because your dad was a surgeon. Career Army?”
“Yep—I was seeing the world at a very young age.”
“And enjoying it?”
“Most of the time. Unless he had to leave me behind when he was in a combat zone. Even so, he gave me everything I needed and wanted.”
Except