“Youlivewith this man?” Alex jerked his chin toward Torin as he rose from his seat.
“Not really. It’s complicated.” Emma was going to kill Torin. Once they returned to the solitude of the cabin, she was going to wrap her hands around his tattooed neck and throttle him until his eyes rolled back in his head. Yep. She was going to kill him.
As if reading her mind, Torin grinned and offered her his hand. “Shall I take ye home now, little Emma? We’ll see if ye can carry out your plans.”
Alex glared first at Torin, then shifted his accusing stare to Emma. “Apparently, I misjudged your situation here on the island, Dr. Maxwell. I assumed ye were lonely and in need of friendship.”
“I am not lonely,” Emma hissed through gritted teeth. Why did everyone always think she was lonely? And Alex made it sound as though he were a predator sizing up his prey and then doing her some kind of favor. “And I’m always happy to make new friends even though some of them have turned out to be a royal pain in the ass.” Yanking her purse higher on her shoulder, she poked Torin in the chest. “Don’t you dare show up at my cottage tonight or I swear I’ll snap your neck.”
Rage roared through her veins as she stomped toward the door, but it didn’t roar loud enough to drown out Torin’s reply. “I look forward to the battle—my fiery Emma.”
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
“Are ye in a bad mood?”
The tiny voice echoed through her stethoscope and vibrated into her head. Emma flinched, raising the disc pressed against the young boy’s chest. “How could I be in a bad mood when I get to be with you? Why do you think I’m in a bad mood?”
The child peered up at her with wide, solemn eyes, then pointed a chubby finger at her forehead. “Because ye have worry wrinkles on your face.”
“Worry wrinkles?”
The little boy bobbed his curly brown head. “Aye. Worry wrinkles. That’s what my Da calls them whenever Ma’s in a bad mood. When Ma has the worry wrinkles, Da says if we value our hides, we best leave her alone.”
“I see.” Emma swallowed hard, struggling to keep any sign of amusement from registering on her face. Children always opened up to her—much to their parent’s consternation.
“Aaron! Be quiet and let the doctor do her work.” The boy’s mother squirmed in the chair beside the exam table whileworry wrinklesdeepened between her eyes.
Smoothing her fingers across her forehead, Emma smiled and offered Aaron one of the coloring book and crayon packets given to cooperative patients. “Sometimes I get the worry wrinkles when I’m thinking really hard. And maybe when your mom gets the worry wrinkles, you could help her feel better by doing something special. Like extra chores without her having to ask.”
Aaron glanced toward his mother, then wrinkled his nose and leaned closer to Emma. He pressed his pudgy hand to the side of his face and waved her in for a conspiratorial whisper. “If ye ask me, I think those worry wrinkles are caused by that baby in her belly. She doesna think I know he’s there, but I heard her and Da talking about me having to share my room.”
“Aaron!”
Emma almost choked, clamping her lips together as she tousled Aaron’s hair. She loved the perks of this job. Conversations with the children never failed to brighten her day. With a sympathetic glance at his red-faced mother, Emma tapped on Aaron’s knee. “Maybe if you offer to help Mom with the baby, her worry wrinkles will go away.”
Aaron pursed his lips into a thoughtful scowl, then the lad finally nodded. “I could do that. I dinna want her to be unhappy.”
“Thank you, Aaron—and Dr. Emma.” Aaron’s mother sighed as she helped him hop down from the table.
Emma nodded and rested her hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “He’s a fine healthy boy and if I’m still here when your child is born, I look forward to meeting him—or her too.”
“Them,” Aaron’s mother replied with a weary smile while nudging her child out the door. “Aaron’s going to have a brotheranda sister sharing his room.”
“What?” Aaron screeched as his mother urged him forward and closed the door behind them.
Giggles bubbled up and over-flowed. Emma couldn’t hold them back any longer. The shocked look on Aaron’s face as he left the room was more than she could bear. Turning to yank the used white paper off the end of the examination table and roll out a fresh, unwrinkled sheet, Emma glanced through the sheer curtains stretched across the window and noticed a lone figure sitting on the bench across the way.
Irritation tensed every muscle in her body. She had told Torin to go away, and he had actually done it—or so she’d thought. She’d been blissfully “Torin free” for days. Ripping the soiled paper at the tearing strap, Emma wadded it into a ball and jammed it into the bin.If only Torin were that easily resolved.Her reflection glowered up at her from the polished metal lid covering the can.
A worrisome ache stirred in her chest, a fretful fluttering like a moth batting against the glass of a glowing porch light. She had to admit the cottage had been empty without him. No matter how many bricks of peat she piled on the fire, a damp chill pervaded every room.
Emma shook herself, scowling back out the window as a flash of lightning lit the gossamer white curtains and thunder chased its heels.Great.Another storm. A gust of wind pelted a torrent of water against the panes. That’s all it ever did here. Rained every day. The perfect ending to a week filled with frustration.
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
