Her New Year Baby Surprise

‘Not a problem.’ Emma led the way inside her apartment and dropped the newspaper Kathy had brought on the table. After filling the kettle, she flicked through the pages until she got to the real-estate section. ‘Trish and Bill’s place is a feature.’ She read the details. ‘Shame nursing’s not the highest paying job in town.’

‘You’d buy the place?’ Nixon asked. He’d heard the longing in her voice when she’d talked with Bill in ED, but hadn’t realised how much she yearned for it.

‘I would if I had a family, as in more kids and a partner. And the dollars. Plenty of them, since Queenstown’s some of the most expensive real estate in the country.’

A home and family of his own. A chill slid down his spine. Too soon. Just because they’d slept together didn’t mean they were setting up house.

Picking up the paper, he read about the property that had captured Emma’s heart. He could see how it would be a great place for youngsters to grow up, could visualise Emma and Rosie in the yard playing with a dog, those horses she yearned for in the paddocks. Hell, he even wanted to see himself fitting into the picture. Domestic bliss. Except that wasn’t on his horizon. Certainly wasn’t part of his plans for the future, despite the feeling of well-being today. He was getting closer, but still had a long way to go before he moved into a home with a wife and children. A very long way.

The old fears began kicking up a storm. His feet were itching to run out of the door, his heart beating a heavy tattoo—don’t go, get out of here, don’t go, get out of here.

A hand touched his upper arm. Emma stood staring up at him. ‘Don’t torture yourself, Nixon. I am not asking anything of you. We’re doing great, no arguments, all fun and agreeability. Leave it be.’

‘I’m that obvious?’

Her head bobbed. ‘Afraid so.’

‘That’s scary in itself.’ It was. Women didn’t get to know him well—he made sure of it. But then he hadn’t met an Emma before. He stared into her trusting eyes, his fears receding, leaving him shaken but—but okay. Ready to stay with Emma for the day. He could even return to the conversation that had tipped him sideways. ‘You want to own your home.’ It was most Kiwis’ dream.

‘That’s what I’m saving for.’ The kettle clicked off and she poured the boiling water over the coffee grounds.

Emma had plans, she wasn’t resting on the mess of her past, even though it lurked behind her eyes when she was tired or upset. She’d dealt with her marriage in a similar manner to how she was dealing with post-partum blues. Brave, strong, and doing just fine with the occasional flare up of distress. ‘You ever want any more hours in ED just tell me.’

‘I am not cutting back my time with Rosie. We’ll get there when we do, and meantime we’re not living in a hovel.’ Sniffing the coffee-scented air, she asked, ‘That house you’re in is yours?’

‘Yes. I bought it off the guy I replaced in ED. He was heading to Wellington and wanted shot of the place fast. It’s handy to work, easily accessible, and will only improve in value over the years, so I signed a contract immediately. Made moving from Dunedin a lot simpler.’

His phone pinged. ‘Hold that coffee. A hang-glider has crash-landed on Bob’s Peak close to the gondola building. Multiple injuries. Patient critical.’ He called in. ‘I’m coming in.’ He’d prefer to go to the site but the paramedics would be there and they knew what they were doing.

‘Come back for lunch if you’re finished in time,’ Emma called after him.

With a wave he leapt into his vehicle and gunned the motor. Of course the traffic was diabolical, with sightseers gaping out of windows and forgetting to drive. The locals were obvious—they were the ones with their hands on the horns. If only he could legally stick a flashing light on his roof.

For the first time, being called into work for an emergency didn’t raise the adrenalin, didn’t create anticipation for the injuries he’d have to deal with. Instead his heart got heavier with every kilometre he drove away from Emma. At least he had lunch with her to look forward to—if he ever got through this damned traffic. More time with Emma was imperative to his well-being, and the sense of balance coming into his life. Didn’t matter what they did, as long as he was with her. Keep this up and his cycle might become rusty.

‘Move it.’ His palm pressed hard on the horn. ‘Get out of the damned way.’ A patient could die while he sat in this traffic jam. If his bike had been at the back of the four-wheel drive he’d be parking up and riding to the hospital by now. But it wasn’t. He’d been too busy thinking about Emma to do anything that sensible.

Finally he was racing through the hospital, his vehicle abandoned in a tow-away area of the health department’s car park. ‘How far away is our man?’

‘Coming down now,’ Carl told him. ‘Resus one’s ready.’ The nurse handed Nixon a scribbled note. ‘The general surgeon and neurosurgeon are on standby, and surgical are contacting Cameron.’

‘Thanks,’ Nixon muttered, his eyes sweeping over the information. Moments later they were dealing with the worst of worst-case scenarios. Fractures, blood loss, unconsciousness, internal injuries. Everyone worked fast, fighting the impossible, agonising minute after agonising minute, slowly winning, getting their patient ready for Theatre.

‘No reaction from his feet or hands,’ Nixon warned Cameron when he arrived dressed in gardening clothes.

‘Damage to the spinal cord. Makes sense. Those impact injuries to his femurs and ilium suggest he landed feet first.’ Cameron studied the X-rays on the screen in front of them. ‘First things first, starting with that liver haemorrhage. It’s going to be a long day.’

Especially for the man they didn’t have a name for.

*

‘He arrived at the car park this morning, set up his hang-glider and took off, only to go splat against the mountainside,’ Nixon told Emma that afternoon. ‘A hang-gliding instructor thought there’d been gear failure, but that hasn’t been verified yet.’

‘Can’t he be traced through the car reg?’

‘It belongs to a woman in Christchurch who’s in Auckland for the weekend.’

‘In the meantime, the man is alone and suffering dreadfully.’ Emma sighed.

Nixon sprawled out on the lounger on Em’s deck, and begged the phone gods to keep the damned thing silent for the rest of the day. Exhaustion softened every muscle in his body. Hunger pangs cramped his gut.

‘Get these into you.’ Emma held out a plate with two salmon bagels and an icy bottle of water.

Placing everything on the table, he reached for Emma to pull her onto his thighs. It felt so right with her sitting there. ‘Thanks for this. Coming in after a heavy time in ED to find you and sandwiches waiting is just…’ his voice hitched ‘…just something I haven’t had and it’s wonderful.’ Made him feel different, as if he belonged somewhere with someone. Pulling Emma close, he kissed her. It started gently, lips to lips, then deepened so that his blood stirred and desire overtook all thought processes. His hands slipped under her shirt, found those soft mounds.

Suddenly Emma pulled away, her breasts rising and falling rapidly. ‘We can’t. Rosie’s in the back yard.’

Reality check. Yet while it meant tugging the brakes on his need, Rosie’s presence didn’t bother him. She was part of the deal. What deal? They hadn’t come to any arrangement. Did he want to? What did he want from Emma? A meal? A date and sex occasionally? Or to share a beer on the deck?

Getting too clinical here, man.

It went to show how little experience of dating he had. In the past when he’d taken a woman out there was no comeback, no questions about where they were headed, no child to interrupt a hot kiss that was heading down the hall to the bedroom. This was a whole new deal.

Liking it?

Oh, yeah.

‘You’d better stay for dinner.’ Emma stood up. ‘Hope you like chicken burgers. Saturday night dinners are Rosie’s choice.’

‘I’d eat anything if it means I get to stay.’

Her grin turned wicked. ‘I’ll see what’s in my diary.’

*

The next week was a mix of excitement and exhaustion for Emma. While the post-birth tiredness had dissipated over the week since they’d first made love, having Nixon here kept her on high alert. Tonight he hadn’t left after dinner, instead had taken her hand and led her to her bedroom to make love, not once but twice throughout the night. ‘Thank goodness Christmas is almost here,’ she murmured against Nixon’s shoulder, steeling herself for the moment he got up to go home.

His hand was making lazy circles over her back. ‘Think Rosie will make it without imploding?’

‘She will, I mightn’t. If I hear “how many more sleeps?” once more I’ll scream.’

‘I’ll miss you two while I’m in Dunedin.’ His hand pressed a little harder. ‘I could stay here instead.’

‘No, you’ve got to see your family.’ He hadn’t been dancing with excitement when he’d told her he was going to Dunedin for Christmas. More like apprehensive. ‘I couldn’t imagine not spending the day with Mum and Dad and the annoying brothers. It wouldn’t be Christmas.’

‘Your family is so together. Everyone loves each other so easily, comfortably.’

‘You missed out there.’