Renee Ryan - Loving Bella

As though mocking her, the wind scratched at the window with clawlike strokes. Bella wanted to rush into the raw air, wanted to feel the hard slap of sobering cold against her skin.

Her breaths started coming shorter, faster, harder.

To her horror, and in front of these kind people, Bella stood on the brink of panic.

Dr. Shane cleared his throat, saving her from making a fool of herself. With extraordinary patience, he waited until he had everyone’s attention—including hers—before he began a litany of instructions needed to keep the boy’s wound clean and infection free.

Bella tried to listen. Truly, she tried. But all the pain of the last month, all the nerves of the last few moments tangled into a tight knot in the pit of her stomach.

At last, the doctor finished his list of instructions and then turned his attention to her. “Miss O’Toole.”

Bella bristled at the abrupt tone, ready to do battle, until she noted the hint of vulnerability in his gaze.

“Yes?”

He ran his hand through his hair. A gesture he clearly repeated often, if the messy edges were any indication. Instead of making him look foolish, the mussed hair added a hint of boyish charm to his otherwise too-handsome features.

“Miss O’Toole,” he repeated. “Am I to understand you are in Denver for an indefinite period of time?”

He sounded so formal. So distant and cold. But there was a hint of desperation in his tone, as well, and thus she found the courage to answer his question with complete honesty. “You are correct in your assumption.”

The sincerity in his gaze gave her renewed hope.

But then he spoke. And condemned her all over again. “I have a proposition for you. One I pray you will consider with the utmost care.”

At last.

Shane had found a capable woman to assist him in his practice. But instead of feeling a sense of relief, a burst of unease pounded through his veins.

Miss O’Toole’s face had gone dead white. She remained frozen in place, staring at him with ill-cocealed horror.

Had she misunderstood his intentions?

Shane rubbed a finger over his temple and fought down a second wave of uncertainty.

Grabbing a quick breath of air, he began again. “What I meant to say is…thank you. You did a fine job with Ethan today.”

Her hand rose to her throat. She fiddled with the golden pendant around her neck while her gaze flitted around the kitchen, landing on nothing in particular.

Was she listening to him?

“We’re all very grateful,” Trey added with one of his rare smiles directed solely at her.

Unfortunately, the magnanimous gesture was lost on Miss O’Toole. She blinked rapidly now, sending the first glitter of tears wiggling along her long, spiky lashes.

Confused and terrified. Those were the words that came to mind as Shane tried to unravel her odd reaction to his request.

In truth, he sympathized.

He was battling his own sense of bewilderment, as though he, too, was on the cusp of diving into something beautiful and terrible.

“I haven’t seen that steady of a hand in a long time,” he continued. “You have a gift, Miss O’Toole.”

Her shoulders stiffened at his compliment and some unknown emotion flashed in her eyes. Discomfort? Pleasure? Something else entirely? “I…I do?”

“Yes.”

“I…” She lifted her chin, pulled in a composing breath. “Thank you.”

Her uncertain manner was replaced by a quiet dignity.

Something inside Shane threatened to snap.

How could he want to protect the woman one moment and wish to rest in her strength the next?

Rest in her strength?

For a moment, the foundation of everything Shane thought rocked under him. He was a healer, called by God to treat the sick, a man others turned to in time of need. He did not rely on anyone.

No human, at any rate. Only the divine.

Then again, he’d never met a woman who made him want to release some of his tight control, to admit he might be weary of standing helplessly by as his patients struggled with illnesses that far too often resulted in death.

For the first time in his life, a woman—a fancy, overdressed, far too beautiful stranger—made Shane want to share a little of his burdens with another person.

What did that say about him? About his faith in God as his only guide and one true hope?

“Miss O’Toole, I have an offer I would like to present you, a job offer,” he hastened to add when she sucked in her breath a second time at his words. “What I ask is highly respectable.”

Glancing from Trey’s amused expression to Katherine’s pitiful shaking of her head, Shane shifted his stance and continued. “Would you consider working as my assistant?”

Instead of answering him, she looked at Katherine who tossed her palms in the air and shrugged. The gesture seemed to say: who can understand what men really want from us women?

They shared a smile of feminine understanding. Or maybe it was a grimace. Either way, a thousand words passed between them, words no mere man could hope to understand.

There was another long pause, during which Miss O’Toole released a sigh and turned back.

“You want me to be your assistant, nothing else?” Her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Shane shoved a hand through his hair. “Nothing else, I assure you.”

She blinked at him, opened her mouth, closed it again. And so the staring began again.

What was wrong with the woman?

Clearing his throat, Trey resettled Ethan in his arms and glanced at his wife. “I think we should leave these two to their discussion.”

The marshal’s suggestion was innocent enough, but the casual alertness of his posture said he’d been listening to every word spoken, and a few unspoken, as well.

Nodding, Katherine murmured something Shane didn’t quite catch before she turned to Molly. “Come on, Moll.” She plucked one of her daughter’s pigtails. “Let’s get Ethan home and in bed.”

“But it’s still daylight,” the little boy whined as he struggled in his father’s arms. “I want to stay and play with the kids.”

Kicking with remarkable strength, his face was a contorted mixture of childish rebellion and youthful disappointment.

“You’ve had a bad time of it, baby.” Katherine reached out in silent command to her husband. Trey handed the boy over with the patience of a man used to obliging his wife’s wishes.

As they made the exchange, Shane marveled at the silent harmony between Trey and Katherine Scott. The couple had created a happy, tight-knit family out of impossible odds. If Shane ever doubted God’s ability to heal the wounded and bring about good from tragedy, all he had to do was look at this unified family for proof.

“Please, let me stay.” Ethan’s voice squeaked along the edge of a loud sob.

“You need to rest for a while, little man,” Trey said in a placating tone with a firm hand on the boy’s back. “Then we’ll see how you feel.”

He shot his wife a challenging look over Ethan’s head. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

“We’ll discuss it, after his nap,” she said, her voice no less formidable for its soft tone.

A stalemate began.

But as was often the case, the ruthless lawman who could intimidate murdering outlaws without flinching capitulated under his wife’s unyielding stare. “Whatever you say, dear.”

Katherine gave her husband a pleased smile. “I knew you’d see things my way.”

“What can I say?” Trey returned the look with another long, intent stare. “I’m an accommodating man.”

She giggled. She actually giggled. This, from the same woman who ruled her schoolroom with iron-clad structure.

Shane tried not to gape.