He was definitely turning out to be…more than she’d bargained for.
Ever since that Saturday when little Diamond and Trapper had presented for treatment, Dex had been different. Throughout her first week in Didja Dex had been the playboy she’d pegged him for. She’d noticed the way other women looked at him and she’d watched as he’d charmed them all. He also seemed to hold himself so apart from them that she couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d been burned in love in the past.
He hadn’t, however, held himself aloof on the night she’d broken down. Iris shook her head at the memory, embarrassment still tingeing her cheeks. She’d cried and he’d held her. The memory was a difficult one to wipe away, especially when she remembered the sensation of being encircled within his strong, firm arms. She’d felt so…protected and she hadn’t felt that way in a very long time. He’d also made her feel precious, as though she really was important to him, to Didja, to the world.
Too many times in those first few years after Tim’s death Iris had wished she’d died too. Yet for the first time, whilst she’d been in Dex’s arms, she’d honestly started to believe that she still had a lot to offer this great big world, and it was because of him that she’d felt that way.
Then Dex had touched her back. He’d felt the scars. He’d guessed she’d been a victim of a fire, that she was scarred in more places than just her back. He’d been repulsed and for the past few weeks he’d maintained a professional distance. Iris eyes closed tighter as she tried to ignore the pain of Dex’s rejection. She didn’t blame him, she knew her body wasn’t something any man wanted to look at, let alone touch.
Dex, like every other red-blooded male on the planet, liked women who were gorgeous, who were complete—not freaks.She didn’t want to be so attracted to him and she was pleased he’d stayed as far away from her as she had from him. The more distance they could maintain, the easier it would be to continue with her work here in the Didja community.
Still the thoughts twirled around and around in her head. Dex didn’t want her. No man wanted her. Focusing on her work was all she was good for. Dex hadn’t really meant to offer such heart-warming compassion that night. He’d no doubt been trying to keep his distance but then she’d burst into tears and he’d felt compelled to comfort her. She wasn’t attractive. She was scarred and as her breathing started to increase, she rocked slowly back and forth.
Tears started to bite at the back of her eyes but it was too late. Her mind had gone to the place she never usually allowed it to go. ‘No.’ The word was an agonised whisper as she started to feel, to smell, to panic.
The flames. The heat. The terror. She’d woken. Sat up with a start, instinct telling her something was wrong. She’d immediately reached out to shake Tim, to wake him up.
‘Tim. Tim!’
‘What? Did the hospital call?’
She’d always marvelled that for an obstetrician who was used to delivering babies at all hours, Tim was able to sleep so deeply and sometimes didn’t hear the phone ring unless it was right beside his ear.
‘Something’s wrong.’ She’d listened carefully and then she’d breathed in deeply. ‘Smoke! Tim. I can smell smoke.’
He’d turned over, still half-groggy. ‘Why are you whispering? If the house is on fire, whispering isn’t going to make it go away.’ He’d grinned at her, that stupid silly grin that had made her fall in love with him in the first place.
‘Tim!’ The seriousness in her voice had stopped him from teasing and he’d sat up, sniffing the air. Then his eyes had widened and he’d sat up straighter. He’d breathed deeper.
‘I do smell smoke. It’s very acrid.’ He cautiously climbed from the bed and walked to their bedroom door. Iris swallowed over the lump in her throat as she watched him, her hands clenched tightly around the
Ever since that Saturday when little Diamond and Trapper had presented for treatment, Dex had been different. Throughout her first week in Didja Dex had been the playboy she’d pegged him for. She’d noticed the way other women looked at him and she’d watched as he’d charmed them all. He also seemed to hold himself so apart from them that she couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d been burned in love in the past.
He hadn’t, however, held himself aloof on the night she’d broken down. Iris shook her head at the memory, embarrassment still tingeing her cheeks. She’d cried and he’d held her. The memory was a difficult one to wipe away, especially when she remembered the sensation of being encircled within his strong, firm arms. She’d felt so…protected and she hadn’t felt that way in a very long time. He’d also made her feel precious, as though she really was important to him, to Didja, to the world.
Too many times in those first few years after Tim’s death Iris had wished she’d died too. Yet for the first time, whilst she’d been in Dex’s arms, she’d honestly started to believe that she still had a lot to offer this great big world, and it was because of him that she’d felt that way.
Then Dex had touched her back. He’d felt the scars. He’d guessed she’d been a victim of a fire, that she was scarred in more places than just her back. He’d been repulsed and for the past few weeks he’d maintained a professional distance. Iris eyes closed tighter as she tried to ignore the pain of Dex’s rejection. She didn’t blame him, she knew her body wasn’t something any man wanted to look at, let alone touch.
Dex, like every other red-blooded male on the planet, liked women who were gorgeous, who were complete—not freaks.She didn’t want to be so attracted to him and she was pleased he’d stayed as far away from her as she had from him. The more distance they could maintain, the easier it would be to continue with her work here in the Didja community.
Still the thoughts twirled around and around in her head. Dex didn’t want her. No man wanted her. Focusing on her work was all she was good for. Dex hadn’t really meant to offer such heart-warming compassion that night. He’d no doubt been trying to keep his distance but then she’d burst into tears and he’d felt compelled to comfort her. She wasn’t attractive. She was scarred and as her breathing started to increase, she rocked slowly back and forth.
Tears started to bite at the back of her eyes but it was too late. Her mind had gone to the place she never usually allowed it to go. ‘No.’ The word was an agonised whisper as she started to feel, to smell, to panic.
The flames. The heat. The terror. She’d woken. Sat up with a start, instinct telling her something was wrong. She’d immediately reached out to shake Tim, to wake him up.
‘Tim. Tim!’
‘What? Did the hospital call?’
She’d always marvelled that for an obstetrician who was used to delivering babies at all hours, Tim was able to sleep so deeply and sometimes didn’t hear the phone ring unless it was right beside his ear.
‘Something’s wrong.’ She’d listened carefully and then she’d breathed in deeply. ‘Smoke! Tim. I can smell smoke.’
He’d turned over, still half-groggy. ‘Why are you whispering? If the house is on fire, whispering isn’t going to make it go away.’ He’d grinned at her, that stupid silly grin that had made her fall in love with him in the first place.
‘Tim!’ The seriousness in her voice had stopped him from teasing and he’d sat up, sniffing the air. Then his eyes had widened and he’d sat up straighter. He’d breathed deeper.
‘I do smell smoke. It’s very acrid.’ He cautiously climbed from the bed and walked to their bedroom door. Iris swallowed over the lump in her throat as she watched him, her hands clenched tightly around the
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