The Runaway Nurse. Dianne DrakeЧитать онлайн книгу.
you had to indulge your child sometimes, didn’t you? God knew, there hadn’t been many indulgences for either her or Alyssa since Grace Corbett had died. But here she was, debating a scoop of ice cream like it was a new car she was purchasing. Thinking in those terms, it seemed a little silly, actually. Especially since it was for Alyssa.
“Ice cream, Mommy,” Alyssa said, standing on tiptoe to look into the parlor window. “Can we please go in?”
“Tough choices inside,” a deep, familiar voice commented from over her shoulder.
Rather than turning to see him, she looked at Rick Navarro in the window’s reflection, and bit the inside of her lip to keep herself from grinning a schoolgirl grin that stretched from ear to ear. She really liked Rick. Handsome man. Bronzed skin. Large, broad shoulders. To-die-for wavy black hair. Nice smile. A real breath-taker, if you were inclined to want your breath taken. Which she wasn’t. Still, she was human. Flesh and blood, beating heart that was beating a couple ticks faster now that his breath was tickling the back of her neck. And he was a very nice view, even in reflection. Something she’d been trying not to notice for months. Failing miserably, however. “Not when you have a picky eater. She likes vanilla.”
“No sprinkles?” he asked.
Summer shook her head. “So far she hasn’t wandered into the world of sprinkles. I’ve tried keeping things a little more simple than that.” She glanced at Chris, who was pointing out to Alyssa a picture in Benson’s window of an ice-cream cone with sprinkles. “Although I suppose it’s coming, isn’t it?”
“Probably sooner than you think. So, would you two ladies care to join us two gents for ice cream?” Rick asked. “With sprinkles?”
“Sprinkles?” Alyssa mimicked, pointing to the picture in the window. “Can I have sprinkles, too, Mommy?” “You’ve started something,” Summer said to Rick. He tossed Summer a wink. “Wait until she knows she can have whipped cream and a cherry on top. That’s when the fun really begins because it will lead to things like ice-cream sundaes, banana splits, milk shakes …”
“Oh, I think sprinkles are enough for one day.” Did she look pathetic, gazing into the store longingly, nose pressed to the window? Or was Rick simply being kind? He was a nice man. Also, her boss, part time. So far, though, there hadn’t been a reason for anything other than loosely casual, translated to mean safe at a distance—the way she tried to keep herself with everybody. “Then it’s an ice-cream date?” OK, maybe not as loosely casual as she’d thought. But the word date startled her a little. She didn’t date. Wouldn’t date. Wouldn’t budge on her position about that either. Of course, she was sure Rick hadn’t meant anything by date. She was also sure she had to quit overreacting to things that weren’t meant to be anything other than what they were. Like this. It was meant to be ice cream. Nothing more. Yet overreacting was a foible of her nature, more ingrained than she wanted it to be, especially these past couple of years. “An ice-cream … date. For one, though. I, um … I don’t indulge.”
“Only one?” Rick asked, holding the parlor door open for them. “Am I going to have to use some fancy persuasion to get you to change your mind?”
Chris went in first, and ran straight to the see-through display of all forty kinds of ice cream. Alyssa got caught up in the excitement and broke right away from her mother, which caused Summer to panic. She didn’t let go of her daughter in public. Not ever. Too many things could go wrong in the blink of an eye, and while this was only a small ice-cream shop where nothing was more than a few feet away from her, the sensation of fear, mixed with the need to grab Alyssa and run, nearly doubled her over. She resisted the outward manifestations, of course. Over time, being a single mother, the way she was, she’d gotten good at putting on the right outward appearance for the occasion, even when her gut was knotting and her lungs were going into spasm. Like they were doing right now. “I’m not much of an ice-cream eater,” she said stepping up behind Alyssa, who was busy peering into the case at all the different kinds of ice cream.
“What are these?” her daughter asked innocently, pointing to the virtual rainbow of colors.
Proof of a sheltered life, Summer thought, taking hold of Alyssa’s hand, instantly feeling better. “Ice cream comes in different flavors, and different flavors come in different colors.”
“Would you like some samples?” the boy on the other side of the case asked. He was about sixteen, seemed harmless. Wasn’t paying more attention to one person than another, Summer noted, finally relaxing a little.
“She likes vanilla,” Summer said, deliberately not looking at the disappointment she knew would be registering on Alyssa’s face. OK, so her own panic reactions were about to ruin her daughter’s whole experience. Summer couldn’t help the panic. It was a given in her life now. Always on caution. But to deprive Alyssa because of her problems? She couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t do that. “But, yes, a few samples would be good. Thank you.”
“Chris is really into the chocolate chocolate,” Rick suggested from behind her.
Standing so close to her, his voice practically in her ear … Summer startled again. Sucked in a sharp breath, held it until the panic passed, then let it out. “Chocolate chocolate’s fine,” she said, then also picked out one sample of strawberry, and one of mint chocolate chip for her daughter.
“You’re really not going to have anything?” Rick asked her. “I mean, look at all these flavors. Bubble-gum surprise, blue goo, mystery chunks … They all sound pretty tempting to me.”
She reached over and took a mini spoon of chocolate chocolate from the counter boy, handed it to Alyssa, then turned to Rick. “Maybe they tempt you, but they scare me. Blue goo, for example. What, exactly, goes into ice cream that turns it blue? And I don’t even want to think about the goo part.”
“Then have vanilla. It’s safe. No surprises. Not particularly imaginative, but very good for the soul in its dependability.”
She took another sample and handed it to Alyssa. Actually, dependability for the soul was everything she wanted in her life … in her world. And it had nothing to do with vanilla ice cream “The soul?”
“Any ice cream is good for the soul.”
“Just how do you figure that?”
“It makes you feel good. Makes you happy. Puts a smile on your face.”
Exactly what she needed but couldn’t have for more than moments at a time. Summer did smile for one of those moments, though, thinking about that life, thinking about how hard Rick was working to make her happy right then. She didn’t smile often, but she really appreciated his enthusiasm. More than that, she was flattered by the way he was trying so hard to make this a nice experience for her. Nobody, other than Grace Corbett, had done that for her in a very long time.
“See, I’m right. You’re smiling already. And you haven’t even eaten any ice cream.”
“Maybe I’m not hungry,” she said, taking the third mini-spoon and handing it to Alyssa.
“But eating ice cream isn’t about being hungry. It’s about … relaxing. Kicking back, letting the day’s troubles go, even if for only a little while. Enjoying a simple pleasure.”
As if she could. “So, what if I raise the calorie argument? Tell you that I’m watching my weight.” Which wasn’t true. If anything, it was a struggle to keep weight on these days, thanks to the stress. “Will you quit trying to force feed me ice cream then?”
Rick moved backwards a step, then took a long deliberate look at her, toe to head and back again. “Trust me … and this is strictly a professional medical opinion … you don’t have any worries in the weight department. Besides …” he pointed to the five-gallon tub at the end of the display “… sugar-free, low-fat.”
In spite of herself, Summer’s smile bubbled into laughter. It was a simple thing, really. Go with the moment. Have a scoop of ice cream. Enjoy herself. “OK, so maybe one