Risking Her Heart On The Single Dad / The Neonatal Doc's Baby Surprise

Kirri laughed. “The peanut?”

“Oh, yes,” Stella assured her. “There’s even a state monument. Isn’t there, Dr. Sawyer?”

Ty threw Stella a look that he hoped communicated the following: Would you please stop trying to draw me into this conversation? I know what you’re doing.

The nurses—Stella in particular—were on a mission to set him up with near enough every single female who walked through the clinic’s doors. All those over twenty-five years old, anyway. Had been for the past year. It was as if they’d all decided that four years was long enough to mourn his wife’s passing and it was time for him to pull up his socks and get on with the business of loving again.

As if it were that easy.

“Peanuts...” Kirri gave a happy little sigh. “I’ve definitely been through my fair share of those. Right, then! Here’s the five-millimeter trocar—done. Are you ready to put in the neonatal gastroscope, Doctor?”

Ty nodded, his eyes once again connecting with Kirri’s. There was something joyfully infectious about her energy. It was like that yellow brick road to Oz. Alluring, but frightening as well. The great unknown. Loving the same woman from the age of sixteen made the idea of falling for someone new little less than terrifying.

He had his routine. No need to veer from it now, when Hurricane Kirri was going to be back off to Australia in a handful of weeks.

“The next thing you’ll be telling me is that there’s a state-sanctioned barbecue,” Kirri said, and laughed as she lowered her surgical goggles into place.

Everyone gasped. “But there is!”

Conversation erupted around the pair of them—Ty and Kirri—about whether dry rub was better or sauced barbecue. Beef or pork. And, of course, the more complicated question of what side orders to choose. Colorful language burst into play when someone said they were considering going vegetarian and were looking for the perfect way to grill an eggplant.

Kirri merrily worked away through the lively debate, with Ty serving as her second set of eyes and hands. And then someone mentioned Chuck’s Charcoal Heaven.

Uh-oh. Ty knew where this was heading. He didn’t hire the smartest nurses in the country for nothing, but sometimes... Sometimes they got the better of him.

“You go there every Tuesday, don’t you, Dr. Sawyer? To Chuck’s?”

Ty barely held back his Oh, no, you don’t. Stella could sound as innocent as a child when she wanted to. Like a child asking if they were possibly maybe going to be passing an ice cream store when she knew damn straight that they were.

“They have some lovely barbecue at Chuck’s,” Stella pressed, clearly intent on making good her self-proclaimed role as his personal cupid. A role he truly wished she would relinquish. If he wanted to go on a date, he’d go on a date.

The unspoken lie gave him a sharp twist of discomfort.

“You’ll know when you’re ready, darlin’...”

He tipped his head toward Kirri and said. “Perhaps we should give Dr. West a bit more quiet space to conduct her surgery? I doubt the finer points of dry rub or sauce are of interest to her right now.”

“Oh, no. Don’t stop. It helps me relax.”

One glance and it was easy to see she was smiling. Ty knew quite a few surgeons who liked music while they operated. He was a fan of country, himself, but it had been his wife’s favorite as well, so for the past five years he’d operated in silence. Detailing Georgia’s finest delights as if the entire surgical team were moonlighting for the tourist board was a new one for him.

Curiosity got the better of him. He had to ask. “Talking about barbecued meat relaxes you?”

“Not necessarily that topic, per se, but...” Her eyes flicked up to meet his. “This is going to sound ridiculous, but I like the sound of your voice. Your accent maybe. It’s comforting.”

Her gaze lingered on his eyes for a moment, then went straight back to the surgical screen as if she’d told him she preferred a harmonic scalpel over conventional knot-tying for the finer points of surgery.

Was it time? Time to let go of that protective shield of hurt and loss he’d wrapped himself in when Gemma died?

He heard himself ask, “Do you like barbecue?”

Nice work, Romeo.

Stella threw him an encouraging glance and tacked on a go ahead nod. Get on with it, her eyes were saying. We’ve got your back.

“I love it—but you’ve got some tough competition.”

“Where?” Stella gasped. “You better not say Texas.”

“I think you’ll find barbies are a national pastime in Australia,” Kirri replied.

“You should take her to Chuck’s, Dr. S,” Stella said, oh, so casually, her eyes fastidiously glued on the screen, where Kirri was delicately wrapping the upper part of the baby’s stomach around the base of her esophagus.

Oh, boy. And here it was. The awkward moment when he did or didn’t ask Kirri out.

There’d be hell to pay in the debrief room if he didn’t. And a strange new set of emotions to resist if he did.

He liked her. And not just professionally. But he had a little girl to think about. One who’d been asking about other little girls’ mommies and what he thought it might be like having a mommy of her own.

He looked across at Kirri. Those blue eyes of hers met his as if she sensed he was trying to work out whether or not she was worthy of barbecue.

It was a much bigger choice than she’d ever know. Brave some barbecue or stay mired in a routine he knew needed changing one day. But...was this the day? Was this the woman he would change it for?

Kirri knew a plea for help when she saw one. Ty needed rescuing. She could see it in his eyes. Those shiny, espresso-rich eyes of his were virtually pleading with her to help him. The poor man was clearly being pushed into a set-up. It had happened to her enough times to know one when she saw one.

No matter how scrumptious she thought he was, first and foremost he was her lifeline to those all-important medical breakthroughs she needed to make. And as such she needed to tilt her lance. Or whatever it was knightesses in shining armor did when they were trying to do good. Turn and run away?

She cleared her throat pointedly. “Don’t you worry about me. I can look after myself.” She expertly tied off the final internal stitch. “All done. You can remove the camera now, Doctor.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Finished?”

She tipped her head toward the screen, where one freshly sutured esophageal passage was on view. “Finished.”

“That was fast.” Ty began slowly to extract the camera as another member of the surgical team moved into Kirri’s place to close up the small incisions.

“It was done to the letter,” she said.

“I didn’t say otherwise. I was merely commenting on how expedient you are.”

“But not at the expense of the patient’s welfare.”

Ty’s eyes hit hers with a flash of light. “I would expect nothing less. Not in my OR, anyway.”

Kirri chewed her lip. It was the only way to bite back the snarky comment she would happily have flung at her brother if he’d said that.

Why are your hackles up? Because he doesn’t want to date you? You don’t want to date him. Or do you? Do you? OMG you do.

Quit having a conversation with yourself and let the man run his OR the way he wants. Get out of your surgical scrubs, get into the lab, make a medical breakthrough then go home and get on with things.

“Would you like to join me for some barbecue tonight?”

Kirri’s eyes snapped back to his.

Say something, idiot!

“Um...”

Nice one.

“It’s very casual. Beyond informal, in fact. And it wouldn’t be just the two of us.”

Everything that had been tingling around her nervous system dulled.

Ah. Of course he had a girlfriend. Maybe a wife? She hadn’t seen a ring on his finger. Then again...he was a surgeon. Most of the male surgeons she knew didn’t bother with rings, what with all the scrubbing up.

“My daughter and I go every Tuesday,” Ty said into the yawning silence that was now consuming the operating room.

“Oh!” Kirri flinched at the high pitch of her voice, then managed to squeak, “You have a daughter?”

The knife plunged into her heart.

He had a daughter.

Ty Sawyer knew the precious love between parent and child that she would never know.

She knew it shouldn’t hurt. Not anymore. It was as if the pain was built in now. A low-grade ache, reminding her of the relationship she’d lost because of a glitch in her genetics.

“Tallulah.”

There was no missing the love in Ty’s voice.

“Atlanta’s biggest devotee to barbecue.”

Ty stepped back from the operating table as the rest of the team silently moved in. Their attention was on the patient, obviously—but it was patently obvious that their ears were glued to the interchange between Ty and Kirri. So much so it felt as if they were bearing witness to a miracle. And it wasn’t the miracle of modern-day medicine.

“If you’re happy to leave from here, I tend to go straight from work. Six o’clock suit?”

She glanced up at the clock. It was almost three. Enough time to develop a case of the sniffles?

“Perfect.”

It wasn’t. She didn’t want to go out with Ty and his daughter. She was always super-awkward with kids, too bright. She always ended up feeling like a freakish maiden auntie—which she’d also never be because her brother looked about as ready to have babies as her body was. Not at all. Which was weird, considering he adored them, but whatever...

Without so much as a tip about what one wore for “casual barbecue” Ty left the room.

Well, she thought as the rest of the surgical team threw each other a combination of winks and wide-eyed glances, like it or not—it looks like I have a date.

Ty tried to focus on the images on his computer screen and couldn’t.

After the unbelievably awkward end-of-surgery “Would you like to join me for some barbecue?” incident, Kirri had fled to the research lab and Ty had holed up in his office with imaginary paperwork. Imaginary because he was finding it difficult to focus.

What on earth had he been thinking? Inviting her to eat barbecue with Lulu? A little girl who might easily think he was bringing along a candidate for stepmother. She’d never outright asked him if she’d ever have a new mommy, but he wasn’t blind to the way she looked at the mothers at school events. Little girls were built of hopes and dreams. Hopes and dreams he hadn’t let himself consider, let alone actualize.

He gave his scalp a short sharp scrub, willing some common sense to fall in. Maybe he could tech talk with her all night. That would put Lulu off the scent of what his body was telling him. He was attracted to Kirri. An attraction that was more than skin-deep.

A couple of hours later—strangely close to six o’clock—Stella tapped on his office door.

“Why, Dr. Sawyer, as I live and breathe. I couldn’t find you anywhere. I thought you might’ve pulled a sickie.”

He gave her a wry smile. She knew him well. He far preferred practicing medicine to sitting in his office doing paperwork. It was definitely the last place on anyone’s list to look for him. Even so—a sickie?

“You know as well as I do that my mother would consider that awfully bad manners. I suppose your mama would too, Stella.”

“That she would.” Stella leant against the doorframe and smiled. She clearly wasn’t through with him yet. “Well, aren’t you just full of surprises? Asking our good Dr. West out to join you tonight.”

Ty laughed and threw a sideways get you look at his cheekiest employee. Not only did she merrily cross the employee-friend line every chance she got, she was also a damn fine pediatric nurse. Being ribbed every now and again was worth each precious minute she treated his high-needs pediatric patients.

The way he saw it, for every life saved they put a bit more light back in the world. Light he needed as much as the next person. Because the day his wife had died near enough all the light had gone with her. And without his little girl... Well, that wasn’t a world worth thinking about.

Stella smiled at him, fluffed her afro, then relaxed into an attitude he knew all too well: An I told you I was right all along face, quickly followed by a gloating smile.

He tapped his pen on his desk. “Isn’t it funny how you just happened to mention barbecue and my nights out? All on a Tuesday, no less.”

“Oh, it wasn’t me who brought up barbecue. It was Kirri.”

“Oh.” He gave the back of his neck a rub. Had it been? “That’s strange.”

“Very,” said Stella, a contented smile playing on her lips as she handed him a form to sign. “Some might take it as a sign.”

Yeah, right. He handed the paper back and she gave him a new one. She had a stack of them and was taking her time.

“I just helped put two and two together, is all.”

“If that’s what you want to call it, Stella.”

“It is.” She smiled and made another exchange of papers. “What’re you going to wear?”

He looked down at his cotton plaid shirt and khakis. “Dad gear”, as his sisters relentlessly mocked. He bought it all online. Easier than actually going shopping.

“Been a while since you dusted off your glad rags, isn’t it?”

“For barbecue?” He huffed out a laugh. “I’ll wear what I’m wearing, Stella. No need to go black tie.”

“Suit yourself.”

Stella started humming. This was one of her favorite pastimes. Putting a mirror up to Ty’s non-existent social life. She was always “casually” pointing out some lovely single woman she happened to know who was joining a group for tailgating at a ball game, or picnicking in the park—doing anything apart from work, to be honest. She said she wasn’t pushing—just putting the invitation out there in case something better didn’t come along.

Something better always did. Being with his daughter. She trumped everything. Especially his non-existent dating life.

Stella gave him a once-over and started clicking her tongue.

“What? I don’t look that bad, do I?” He looked down at his clothes. Plain old khakis and a dull-colored dad shirt that probably could’ve done with a run-in with the iron.

Oh, Lord. He cared.

“Oh, wipe that look off your face, Ty. You look fine. I’m just surprised it took you this long to show Kirri some proper hospitality. What with you being a proper Southern gent, and all.”

Stella’s smile was pure innocence, but he knew what she was saying. You were being rude because you find her pretty.

“I was planning on doing it. I just thought if I was going to show her Atlanta properly she might like something a bit more...” He sought the right word. Was there a word?

“Fancy? Classy?” Stella filled in, then instantly dismissed them. “No, sir. Kirri strikes me as a woman who’d be happy wherever, whenever. You just put Lulu in charge, pop a bib on her and have at it. She’ll love it. She’ll love you.”

Oh, God. He hoped not.

He glanced across at his computer’s screensaver. It was a photo of him pushing Lulu on a baby swing. She was young. Six months old. Laughing and smiling...at her mother.

It was the last time Gemma had felt well enough to join them at the playground.

He swallowed down the bile. Cancer was so cruel. So was widowhood. Five years and counting and he simply hadn’t found the knack for it. Didn’t know if he ever would. His daughter’s sheer joy in life demanded that he live in the present, but there was a huge part of his heart still lodged on that awful day in the oncologist’s office.

“Stage Four cervical cancer. Fairly advanced. It’s up to you, of course, but we would advise delaying treatment until the baby is delivered, if you’d like to carry the pregnancy to term. But bear in mind doing so could affect your chances of survival.”

They’d only just found out she was pregnant. Gemma had never had a chance of long-term survival. She’d chosen their daughter’s life over her own.

She’d pushed through her pregnancy, and then nearly one more year—but that had been sheer force of will and probably a bit of blind luck. She’d wanted to see her baby and she had done so.

Saying goodbye after she’d fought so hard to bring life into the world—the life they’d created—had been the most painful thing Ty had ever experienced. He wasn’t even sure he’d finished saying goodbye, if he were being truly honest. It seemed too final.

He knew some people plastered their homes and workplaces with photos of their deceased spouse. Talked about them all the time. Laughed when they recounted stories of the “good old days”. He wasn’t up to it. There were pictures in his daughter’s room, of course, but none in his. Or elsewhere. Hanging up Gemma’s photo would feel like turning her into a shrine.

He knew she wasn’t coming back, but he still hadn’t figured out the best way to own his deep-seeded love for her and still get on with life. So, while he pushed everything else in his life forward, his personal life circled endlessly in the same listless holding pattern.

“Are you going to take her to the bowling alley as well?” Stella handed him another paper to sign.

“If she’s up for it. As you well know, Lulu and I will be going regardless.”

His Tuesday nights with Lulu were sacred. Well. Not that sacred. They often had people join them for the triumvirate of barbecue, biscuits and bowling. Family. Aunts, uncles—any number of the fleets of cousins that kept her from feeling like the only child she was. Plenty of folk from the office had come along one time or another too. Never once, though, had he brought a date.

She’s isn’t a date. She’s a colleague.

He thought of the way his body reacted when he was around Kirri. Like one magnet to another.

Stella fanned herself with the rest of the papers and gave him an approving nod.

“What? Why are you looking at me that way?” he asked.

“I’m just proud of you, is all.”

“Proud? For what?”

“Putting yourself out there.”

He snorted. “I’m taking an employee for some barbecue and biscuits.” He gave her back the signed papers. “And that’s happening mostly because you backed me into a corner.”

Stella shook her head, perched herself on the edge of his desk and leant in. “Uh-uh. I didn’t back you nowhere. You wanted this.”

“You’ll know...”

Stella wasn’t done yet. “Now, Ty, forgive me for butting in where I know you don’t want people sticking their noses—but somebody’s got to do it and I’ve given myself the job. I know your heart was broke real bad all those years ago...”

His jaw tightened. Yes, it had been. Smashed into a million tiny pieces, if anyone wanted to know.

Stella put her hand on her heart. “I didn’t know your wife as well as you did, obviously, but I knew her well enough to assure you that the one thing your Gemma would’ve hated would be to see you alone for the rest of your life.”

She tutted at him before he could interrupt.

“You are always encouraging people to change. Take risks. Push harder. Dig deeper. Travel...try something new! The only person I don’t see doing that in his own life is you.”

She held up a hand.

“I’m not talking about work. We all know you’re light years ahead of everyone else on that front. I’m talking about here.” She tapped her heart. “I know you’ve got your daughter, and your family are amazing, but I’ve seen the way you look at her. At Kirri.”

She stood up and put her hands out in a Stop, I’m not done yet position.

“She’s here for six weeks. Have a trial run. That’s all I’m saying. No one’s asking you to fall in love or elope to the Caribbean, or anything. We just want you to have some fun.”

Fun?

Wait a minute...

“We?”

Stella nodded. “All of us. We love you, whether you like it or not, and just like your family we want to see you happy. If a fling with a sexy brainiac from Down Under brings some light back into those eyes of yours I say go for it.”

She left before he could say anything.

She needn’t have bothered. He was completely and utterly dumbstruck. Have an affair? Just because? Merely thinking about holding another woman in his arms felt like betraying his wife’s memory.

That familiar resolve set in. Nope. Wasn’t going to happen. They’d have their barbecue, maybe bowl a few pins and that would be that. In fact he’d do better than that. He’d call in reinforcements. No way was this going to be a date, let alone the start of an affair.

From tomorrow morning it would be work only. End of story.

CHAPTER FOUR

KIRRI FELT LIKE she was being frog-marched to her date. Ty was barreling along with that same crisp take-no-prisoners walk he’d used on their first day after she’d gaffed in the OR. She’d thought today’s series of successful surgeries had put them in better stead, but apparently not. It appeared all this so-called Southern hospitality didn’t extend as far as the parking lot.

“This is us.”

Ty pointed at a comfortable-looking SUV in a rather daring shade of orange. Definitely not the color she would have picked for him.

He caught her funny look and explained. “My daughter picked the color. She said it reminded her of Pippi Longstocking’s hair.” He gave a what can you do? shrug.

It was a micro insight into a man who clearly liked to keep his private life just that. Private.

His eyes lingered for a moment on the car, as if he were seeing it anew, and the hint of a smile appeared. Against her better judgement, a little part of her melted. But she had a very strict rule: Do not find adorable things fathers say about their daughters adorable.

The idea of falling in love with a single dad—if he even was single—was... Oof! It would be inserting herself into a permanent reminder that she would never be enough. Then add on the fact she’d never live up to the ex—because no matter how awful she’d been, she’d produced a child. And, as her own ex’s extremely quick marriage to a woman she would never have imagined him marrying, and subsequent rapid-fire arrival of three children proved, love was conditional.

So, no, thank you very much Mr. Hot-Maybe-Single-Maybe-Divorced-Dad. You carry on being all cantankerous and edgy. Suits me to a T.

They climbed into the car. Ty maneuvered it out of the parking spot, out of the subterranean carpark and out into the golden early-evening sun.

Her eyes drifted toward his hands on the steering wheel. Still no ring. No divot, even. So definitely not married. Dating or divorced it was, then!

Ty pulled the car onto the freeway with a comment about Chuck’s Charcoal Heaven being twenty-odd minutes down the road before clicking on the radio. Excellent. Small talk was out. Less chance of her putting her foot in it.

It was a kids’ channel. There was a song on about a penguin going for a swim with a dolphin. She couldn’t help it. She cackled.

Ty shot her a look. Either he hadn’t been listening or this was his playlist.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend. Is this one of your favorites?”

He frowned at the radio, then that soft smile hit again. “My daughter’s.”

Kirri laughed, then spoke without thinking. “Your daughter seems to wield a lot of power in your household. What else is she in charge of?”