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One foot in front of the other—ignore the hysterical little voice trying to tell him something—that had been his motto ever since he’d left Marietta. Despite all his efforts, though, he couldn’t stop thinking about Vivian. He’d texted, asking her to please give him a chance to explain, but so far, she hadn’t responded to any of his messages. At the airport in Bozeman, he’d also tried to call her. She hadn’t answered.
He rubbed his chest where a constant ache had settled since last night and was refusing to go away.
All he had to show for his effort was a swollen cheek. Gingerly, he touched his face. Damn, Mitch had a left hook he hadn’t expected.
Instead of helping Vivian, he’d made things much worse for the woman he’d fallen head over heels in love with.
He stilled.Love? But that’s ridiculous. One didn’t fall in love in seconds. All the voices around him faded away. Vivian. Images of her flashed in front of him: blue eyes raking over him in the ER; those same blue eyes laughing and then darkened by desire; honey-blond curls hanging down her back; her long legs; her kisses.
Exhaling slowly, he laughed under his breath. He was probably confusing lust with love. Lust he could understand. Vivian was sexy, gorgeous…
“O’Sullivan!” Steward’s voice boomed across the room. “Where’s my story?”
“Tomorrow morning—I promise.”
Steward walked closer, frowning. “Weren’t you going to stay for the Valentine’s ball in Mary… what’s the name of the town again?”
A few of his colleagues sniggered, but Aiden ignored them. “Marietta. It’s a beautiful town with an interesting history.”
“So why are you back?” Steward asked.
“I have my story.”
Steward nodded. “Okay. Looking forward to it. What happened to your face?”
“Long story.”
“Worth writing about?”
“Maybe.”
“Good.”
As his boss walked away, Aiden picked up his phone. It hadn’t been his intention to say ‘maybe’, but his subconscious had already written the story while he’d been mulling over it. There was, however, still one piece of information he needed to finish his story.
*
Early Wednesday morning,Vivian was in the ER. She’d switched off her phone and left it in her office; she didn’t want to see any more messages from Aiden. The best plan would be, of course, to delete his name and block his number, but she hadn’t been able to do that yet.
She was still so angry and upset it was difficult to think straight. Aiden’s words and messages were constantly running through her head even though she was trying her best not to think about him.
Just because he’d kissed her didn’t mean she now understood why he’d go behind her back and contact freaking James Webster. There was no way she’d talk to the reporter ever again.
“Doctor Miller?” Nurse Jonathan called out. “There’s a visitor waiting for you in your office.”
Her heart skidded to a halt. She stared at Jonathan, not quite sure how to ask whether the visitor was Aiden.
“Aiden O’Sullivan left for Portland this morning,” Jonathan said with a straight face.
A sharp sword pierced her heart. Of course, he’d left. She’d been expecting exactly that; she shouldn’t be surprised. “I’m not even going to ask how you know that.”
Nurse Jonathan grinned. “Heard it from the same person who knew you kissed the Irishman yesterday morning and your brother punched him later in the day.”
Vivian’s jaw literally dropped. So, everyone in town knew what had happened? “Seriously, small towns!” Turning on her heel, she walked back to her office.
As she reached the door of her office, she heard something behind her. Jonathan had followed her. “Anything else, Nurse Jonathan?”
“I don’t know your visitor. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
