CHAPTER THREE
THE rest of the day passed by in a rush of patients, most with minor complaints, upper respiratory issues and someone who had flattened a finger with a hammer. She and Miguel reverted back to their professional roles after the short exchange in the patient room. There was safety in her role, and it was one she knew well. She’d performed it often.
In her family, she’d been forced to play a role that she’d been desperate to escape for years. There had been various reprieves during nursing school and her short marriage. Now that she lived in the caretaker’s cottage on her family estate and not under her father’s thumb, she had found some relief. Living under her father’s roof again was not an option. Only by helping others who needed it and being a nurse did she truly escape the artifice of her family’s reputation, which always seemed to be more important than she was. When she entered the family domain, she was once again Victoria Sterling-Thorne, name before nursing.
Nursing was too personal, they thought, too hands-on. Just donate money from a distance and be done with it was their philosophy, and she didn’t agree with it. There was simply something within her that wouldn’t allow her to do that. A sigh eased out of her. She wasn’t going to fix them, and they weren’t going to influence her any longer. So back to work for now was the only answer.
The clinic stopped taking new patients at 4:00 p.m., so they were out the door by five when the clinic officially closed.
“I gotta go, M. If I’m late for dinner again, my mother’s going to have a fit.” Carlos hefted a backpack over one shoulder.
Miguel smiled at the young man and nodded. “Get out of here. Tell her I said hello and it was all my fault.”
“You’ve got it.” Carlos strolled out the door and disappeared down the sidewalk into the early-evening shadows.
“Tilly, you ready to roll?” Miguel asked as other staff members filed out the door.
Tilly left the nurses’ station and closed the door. “Yeah.” She paused for a second, looking at Vicky, then directed a pointed glance at Miguel. “Good going, kid. See you tomorrow.”
Vicky retrieved her purse from the locker and reveled in the tiny compliment that Tilly had given her. Although this was a new venture for her, she thought she might like it here. As she proceeded to the door, she realized that Miguel hadn’t moved and she waited for him. “Aren’t you coming?”
“I’ve got some notes to finish first,” he said. “But I’ll walk you out.” He left the chart where it was and stood, but Vicky didn’t move. She stayed rooted where she was, looking at him seriously, assessingly, making him a little curious as to what was going on in her mind. There was something about her that made him uncomfortable, and he had no idea what it was. He’d been around plenty of lovely women and many nurses before, so simple attraction wasn’t the answer. Maybe it was the way her eyes seemed to penetrate right into him, trying to see what was going on inside. Maybe it was just bad lighting.
“Finding time to play helps balance the workload, Doctor.”
“It certainly does. For other people.” But it was one thing he hadn’t been able to do. All playfulness and joy had seeped into the ground with his brother’s blood the night that he had died. Part of Miguel had died that night, too. He hadn’t been able to prevent Emilio from dying. His brother had lost his life, so what right did he have to one? Since that night he’d dedicated himself to serving others, saving others and sacrificing himself in the process. The clinic had become his family now, its patients his children. When one of them died, he experienced a small death, as well. Each loss was one he took personally. Each loss was one patient he’d never get back and meant the kind of endless suffering of a family that he knew all too well.
Looking at Vicky, he realized she was very observant and a little too insightful for his tastes at the moment. He’d do well to watch where those blue eyes roamed. A long time ago he might have been susceptible to their allure, but not now. For the sake of his career and community, his focus had to stay right where it was. No distractions allowed. Not even one as tempting as Victoria Sterling-Thorne. Not that he had any business associating with someone from her walk of life anyway. Worlds apart, though they lived only miles apart.
“My brother owns his own business, so I know a little about it. All work and no play usually makes people very unhappy.”
He thought of his family and the Sunday dinners, baptisms, weddings and other gatherings that he missed on a regular basis. He had been close to his family, but the kind of work he had dedicated himself to came at a price. Unfortunately, his family paid it for him. He had so much to make up for, he knew he’d never live long enough to make things right with them. His family had never blamed him for Emilio’s death, though it might have been easier on him if they had. Pushing back those thoughts, he escorted her to the door. “It works this way for me.” He didn’t want to admit aloud that it might not be the complete truth.
“You’ve hired me full-time, but how many hours do you put in per week?”
“I don’t keep track.” If he did, he’d have to take a long, hard look at what he was doing with his life, and he didn’t want to go there. This was all he deserved. It was his fault that Emilio had died. End of story. Turning away from her momentarily, he hung his lab coat on the back of a door. “Ready?”
“Thanks.” She proceeded out the door ahead of him. As she walked past, he caught a whiff of her perfume, a sweet but spicy mix, not too heavy, and very enticing. It reminded him of sandalwood and musk. Through the course of the day he’d been close enough to catch it, but now it seemed to be hooked deeply into his brain. He’d know that sweet and exotic scent anywhere now.
“I’m sorry if I offended you, Dr. Torres,” she said, and shoved her hands into her pockets. As she spoke, she kept her eyes averted from him. “It wasn’t my intention.”
“It’s Miguel, and you can’t offend me.” He’d been through so much over the years that life had hardened him to insult or injury with mere words, and he had the scars to prove it. Offend him? Not a chance.
Her head snapped up, and she looked closely at him, peering into his eyes as if looking for something that simply wasn’t there. “I find that hard to believe. We all react to things. Things can hurt us if we let them.”
“Then it’s simple. I don’t let them.” He’d walk her to her car, ensure that she got safely away and go home. Discussions of emotions weren’t on the agenda for this evening.
She let that comment go, but he could see that she didn’t like the answer or believe it.
In silence they walked to her car at the far end of the parking lot, and she gasped. “Oh. There’s a dent in the door.” She leaned over to examine it and unknowingly gave him a lovely view of her equally lovely backside.
As a professional, he knew he should avert his eyes and focus on the car door, but some deep-seated male instinct allowed him one last wistful glance before he stooped beside her to examine the damage. He pressed his fingers to the dent. It looked as if someone had opened a door onto hers and caused the dent. “Cars aren’t made the way they used to be. Sometimes the wind can take a door and throw it pretty hard.” He looked over at her. “Sorry about that. Maybe the parking garage down the street would be a better option.”
Though her car wasn’t a showpiece, it was new and it showed.
“Nice
