Pieces of Us (Confessions of the Heart 3)

“I like you,” she said.

I could feel the redness creeping up my cheeks. Great, now I was blushin’, too. “Well, I always hope to fit in. Help my co-workers. Make patients feel comfortable if they’re nervous for their procedures.”

“You mean, you’re nice?” She lifted her brows a bit playfully.

A tiny bark of laughter escaped. “I try to be.”

She blew out a strained sigh, and I almost jumped out of the chair, or just slid to my knees to do some begging because I could almost see the regret at having to tell me, in spite of all of those things, I wasn’t a good fit.

“Can you start on Monday?” she asked instead. “I know that’s only a handful of days from now, but we’re in a bit of a bind, and we could really use you around here.”

I shot to my feet. “Oh, yes, of course.”

Why was I standing?

Oh my gosh.

Think quick, Izzy.

I moved for the desk and put out my hand. She shook it, chuckling.

“Thank you so much, you won’t regret this.”

“I think you’re right.”

I pulled my hand away. In all my excitement and relief, it flailed a little too far to my right. My eyes went round in horror when I realized it’d struck something—a glass vase filled with a bouquet of roses and lilies that was tipping to the side.

“Oh my gosh,” I all but shouted, scrambling to catch it, grabbing it right before the glass smacked the desk. Water splashed out, a river of it heading straight for her pile of patient folders. I righted the vase and then rushed to gather the stack before they got wet.

“I’m so sorry. Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.”

She was laughing more. “It’s fine. It’s fine.” She grabbed a couple paper towels from a cabinet behind her, and I was laughing, too, as we sopped it up.

“You can put cleaning up the messes I make on the list of my qualifications.”

She glanced up, smiling wide. “Good. Considering I spilled my tumbler of coffee I brought in this morning, I’d say we’re going to make a good team.”

God, was I really getting cut this break? With my performance, she should have sent me packing. Instead, she was looking at me like I was the one who was saving her.

“I really am grateful for this job.”

“I’m excited to work with you. Now go on, take a little breather. I’ll see you at eight a.m. on Monday, if you can come in a little early to fill out the paperwork?”

“That would be great,” I said, shaking her hand once more, though this time giving it a squeeze with the other hand. I started backing away, then gasped out and whirled around when I ran into something hard.

A man.

A man wearing light blue scrubs and a bright white smile.

“Whoa there,” he said, hands darting to the outside of my shoulders to steady me.

I just stood there, gaping.

He smiled wider, and my heart was thumping, racing out of control.

“You okay?”

I barely could nod, totally mortified by the fact I was a mess. Only Maxon Chambers could send me into a tailspin like this.

“I’m Dr. Nelson, but everyone calls me Trevor. Did I just overhear we finally have someone to take over the front office?”

Oh awesome.

I’d just knocked into my new boss.

“Yes, we do,” Helen said from behind. “This is Isabel Lane.”

He kept his hands on me, holding me up, but stepping back a little as he angled his head to the side.

That was right when I was noticing just how attractive that he was. I mean, not quite like Maxon Chambers. That man was a brand all his own. But attractive in that clean-cut way, light brown hair and dark brown eyes.

“Well, I have to say it’s great to meet you. I was hoping we’d find someone to fill Sandy’s spot.”

I stepped back and stuck out my hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I just hope I can fill her shoes.”

His eyes glinted when he returned the shake. “I’m sure you’ll do perfectly fine.”

I glanced between them, flustered, not even sure where it was coming from anymore. “Well, I’ll get out of your way. I’ll see you Monday morning.”

I ducked out, glancing over my shoulder, redness hitting me again when I saw that Dr. Nelson was watching me go.

* * *

My old car bounced down the narrow, dirt lane that led to the house where I’d grown up.

Our home was secluded in a dense thicket on the far east side of Broadshire Rim, the forest surrounding it lush and alive, fed by the river that twisted through our property.

I wound along the mile-long lane that was hugged by towering trees, their huge trunks covered in moss, massive arms winding and curling as they fought their way toward the sky. The branches were covered in green leaves that protected the earth from the scorch of the blistering South Carolina summer.