Saving Dr. Ryan (21 page)

Maddie didn't even stir when Ryan removed the baby from her arms. He burped Amy Rose, set her back down in the crib—Maddie had said she was sleeping through to seven now. If he didn't hear her awaken before then, he'd come back in the morning.

But he paused at the doorway, his gaze flicking from mother to baby and back again, unable to staunch the yearning streaking through his veins. It had been a long time since he'd let himself want something he couldn't have. Since he'd given two seconds' consideration to his own needs.

He smirked, shaking his head. Maddie was the romantic, not him, even if her brand of it was more practical than most women's. That didn't stop her from still believing that love was enough.

Which was the major difference between them. Because Ryan knew it wasn't.

 

She awoke with a start, her skin cool and slightly damp, not knowing whether she'd been out of it for several days or just a few hours. Weirdest dang…whatever it was she'd ever had. The last thing Maddie clearly remembered was taking a pie out of the oven. Or was it putting one in? Then nothing but a blur, sleep alternating with vague images of Ryan or Ivy bringing Amy Rose to her to feed, trying to get her to drink ginger ale and tea or eat chicken broth, which she'd hated from the time she was a little girl. Suddenly this evening, she felt almost completely well. Certainly well enough to shower and change her nightgown. Slipping on her robe, she ventured downstairs to see what all the commotion was about.

The scent of evergreen assailed her before she'd made it halfway down the stairs. That, and one of those three tenor guys, she thought, singing “White Christmas” with a Spanish accent.

“Mama!” Noah yelled out, tripping over boxes and things in his split to get over to her and grab her hand. “We gots a tree! A real live one! Dr. Ryan taked us to Uncle Cal's house an' we got to go out to the woods an' cut one down!”

Still feeling a little fuzzy, her gaze wandered around the living room for a moment until it found Ryan's, which seemed to reach out to hold her steady as surely as if he'd taken her arm. He looked…pleased with himself, she thought. No, he looked downright
smug.
Such an expression seemed at once so out of character and endearing that Maddie had to smile, her heart swelling with something that went way past love.

By now, both kids were pulling her across the room toward the tree, like she might miss it if they didn't get her close enough. As if she could. Goodness—half the living room was
Christmas tree. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Uncle Ned seated in the wing chair, untangling lights, all the while going on about something to Amy Rose in her baby seat near his feet, who was holding up her end of the conversation with lots of agitated air-batting and burbles.

Then Ryan slipped one arm around her waist to lead her over to the sofa, and she very nearly burst into tears from the gentleness of his touch.

“How're you feeling?”

“Human. I think,” she said, realizing just how wobbly her knees still were when she tried to lower herself onto the sofa.

“You'll recover pretty quickly from now on,” he said. “By tomorrow, you won't even know you were sick.”

“I'll look forward to it.” Then she realized what was missing from the scene. “Where's Mildred?”

“Gone back home,” Ned grumbled, yanking apart a particularly tangled portion of the lights with more force than necessary. “Said she could do just fine on her own now, didn't need anybody hoverin' over her any more.”

Ryan sent Maddie a look which told Maddie pretty much what she'd figured—that Ned had driven her away.

“Look, Mama!” Noah thrust a cardboard box into her hands. “Cal gave us lots of ordaments an' stuff!”

“Oh, my…” She gingerly lifted one of the blown glass houses out of the box, twisting it slowly to get the full effect of the white glitter “snow” on its roof. She looked up at Ryan, then glanced over at the children. “Are you sure these should go on the tree with, um…”

“They made it through the three of us,” Ryan said. “I imagine they'll survive those two. We've already discussed it, right guys?”

They both looked up and gave enthusiastic nods. Then Noah said, “We can't touch without a grown-up with us. At
all
. 'Cuz they're glass an' they might break and cut us.”

Ryan reached over and picked up another box, stacked on an empty chair. He opened it, handed it to Maddie. It was full of tiny crystal angels, each one in a different pose.

“My mother collected these from all over. Christmas was her favorite time of year.”

Maddie smiled, stroking one of the angels with her fingertip. “Mine, too. Although a lot of them weren't exactly memorable.”

“Here's hoping this one will be,” Ryan said, and she looked up into his kind blue eyes and felt like she was floating above the clouds.

Of course, that could be due to her not being completely well yet.

Then she finally got a good look at the tree, and horror streaked through her, that such a big, beautiful tree had been sacrificed for a few days of pleasure. When she voiced her concerns, Ryan explained that it had been growing in a bad spot and had to be culled, anyway.

“Oh. Well. I suppose that's all right, then.”

Then he seemed to realize that it had been a while since she'd eaten anything to speak of so he asked if she was hungry. She was. Starving, in fact. But when she tried to get up, Ryan said, “And just where do you think you're going?” and she said, “To the kitchen, since that's where the food is,” and he said he'd bring her whatever she wanted and to sit back down. So she did.

A few minutes later, he brought her a sandwich on a tray, with some potato chips and a glass of ginger ale, although what she really had a yen for was one of Ruby's deluxe cheeseburgers with a large fries and a chocolate shake. However, she kept this thought to herself, not wishing to put anybody out.

Then she lifted her napkin and found a little package underneath, wrapped up in silver paper.

“What's this?”

“Open it and see,” he said, wearing one of those goofy grins men get when they're tickled with themselves.

It was a Tim McGraw Christmas CD. Tears sprang to her eyes. “But you hate country music,” she said softly, stroking the plastic case over and over.

“Didn't buy it for myself, did I?”

He took the disk from her and slipped it into an inexpensive player they'd picked up the last time they'd gone shopping, and the kids started dancing like fools in front of the Christmas tree, while Ryan laughed and she ate the sandwich, thinking it tasted better than anything she could remember and that she had much to be grateful for.

Then she looked over at Ned, who was watching the children, frowning. Except, as he watched, the frown began to get all smudged, until the only wrinkles left were the ones put there by time and gravity. Then, slowly, he started to clap to the music, spurring the children on in their dancing, as a smile spread across his face like the sun breaking over the mountaintops at dawn.

And Maddie closed her eyes, as if doing so would trap the happiness inside.

 

Even though she'd only stayed up a couple of hours, by the time the tree was decorated Maddie found herself more than ready to get back into bed. So she didn't protest Ryan's insistence on getting the older two ready while she sat up to give Amy Rose her last feed of the evening. Both her babies came in to say good-night, Noah in particular clearly relieved that she was feeling better. They exchanged more kisses and hugs than usual, then Ryan herded them off to bed, returning not fifteen minutes later. Only he didn't come in at first. Instead, he stood in the doorway, his thumbs hooked in his pockets, something in his expression making her get all fluttery again. Making her wish…

Well. She could just stop that thought right there.

“Mothers aren't supposed to get sick, I guess,” she said, smiling.

He looked at her then, his mouth pulled tight. “No. They're not,” he said, which is when she remembered that his mother had died when they were all still pretty young and that had been a stupid, thoughtless thing for her to have said.

“Oh, Lord, Ryan, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—”

“It's okay,” he said, finally coming all the way into the room to look down at the baby. “She finished?”

“What? Oh, yeah—I guess so.” She pushed back the covers to get up, but Ryan took the baby from her.

“Uh-uh. You stay right where you are. Miss Amy and I, we've got our routine down pat.”

So she sat, watching him tend to her daughter, his big hands so careful and sure, and the little glow of happiness got all mixed up with the fluttery feelings to the point where she no longer knew whether she was coming or going.

“Thank you,” she said after he'd laid the baby down and covered her with a little cotton quilt somebody or other had given her.

Ryan turned, his expression half amused, half something she couldn't quite put a finger on. “For what?”

“For giving us Christmas, for one thing.”

A shadow swept across his features, so fast she nearly missed it. “I figured that was the least I could do.”

“At least? Oh, my word, Ryan—what haven't you done for us? I can't even put into words how grateful I am to you, for giving us a home when we needed one and being so good to my kids and taking care of them—and me—the last couple of days. For putting up with Uncle Ned and Mildred and her cats. For not complaining about having your home taken over by crazy people.” She brought her knees up, hugging them through the bedclothes. “For being my
friend.
And for showing me what a man's supposed to be.”

She saw him flush with embarrassment. “I'm not—”

“You are, Ryan Logan. You have the biggest heart of any man I've ever known. Even if you are a big grouch in the mornings and you leave your socks inside out when you take them off and you don't like country music. None of us is perfect,” she finished with a grin that probably wobbled a little. “But my babies and I were truly blessed when we were led to come here, to this town. To you. And…and I just wanted you to know that.”

Amy Rose snuffled in her crib, trying to get settled. On the landing, the grandfather clock chimed nine o'clock. The sound from Ned's TV worked its way up through old walls and floorboards, his room being directly below Ryan's next
door. But Maddie was barely aware of any of that, mesmerized as she was by Ryan's painfully slow progress toward her.

Beneath her ribs, her heart twanged, just as painfully, and although her sickness fever had been gone for hours, now another type of heat seared through her from the effort it was taking to not want something she wanted more than anything in the world.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his expression at once tender and serious. She held her breath, watching him swallow. Saw his hand clench on his lap. Saw an unspoken longing in his eyes, a longing he clearly had no idea what to do with.

“I think…I think I'm the one who's been blessed, Maddie Kincaid,” he said, and she thought
Oh, Lord
—it was up to her, wasn't it?

His jaw was prickly where her fingertips rasped against it, his mouth soft. He grasped her hand and held the palm against his cheek, all the while keeping her gaze snared in his. Tendrils of need unfurled inside her, too, a sweet ache, the ageless female instinct to bond her man to her through touch. Not that Ryan was her man, or ever would be. And she knew—since she'd read it somewhere or seen it on a TV show or something—that men weren't wired the same way…

Ryan placed a gentle kiss in the center of her palm, making her suck in a quick breath.

Then he put her hand back on her lap and started to get up.

“No!”
she cried out in a strangled whisper, grabbing his arm.

He looked down at her hand, covering it with his own as desire such as she'd never known swirled and trickled and sparked through her. But right alongside the desire came something else—the realization that maybe she wasn't quite as ready to give up on having dreams as she'd thought she'd been.

And that some dreams are worth risking everything for.

“I'm in love with you, Ryan Logan,” she said, hope tangling with dread at his stricken expression. But there was
nothing to be done for it now. “I told myself I wasn't ready, that I couldn't let it happen. That I
wouldn't
let it happen. But it did, and I am, and no matter what happens, I'm not sorry for it.”

With a heavy sigh, Ryan sat back down on the bed, not looking at her. “Oh, Lord, Maddie…this isn't good.”

That was her cue, she knew, to ask him
why,
to give him an opportunity to voice his objections. She refused to play into his hand, even though she was nearly dizzy with fear. “Well…I've always believed it's better to tell the truth, to get things into the open. What good would it do either of us for me to keep my feelings locked up inside me—?”

“Maddie, please…” His gaze locked with hers, his expression ravaged with…guilt, she realized. “Don't beg.”

Her mouth dropped open.
“Beg?”
she finally got out. “I have never begged for anything in my life. Which you of all people should know. I'm not asking. I'm
giving.
”

A second was all it took, for her to push herself up and thread her arms around his neck, to join her mouth to his, holding her breath that he wouldn't find her too bold. That he would push her away.

So she nearly sagged with relief when he tangled one hand through her hair and kissed her back, when his tongue invaded her mouth and his other hand found her breast—

And then it was over. No mouth, no hand, nothing. Except his breath, coming in tortured gasps close to her ear, his forehead touching hers. The pain edging his words.