Page 45 of A Very Naughty Christmas

“Coming,” Dixie called. To Janice, she whispered, “Please, don’t talk to me about the good doctor. We have a history that I don’t care to get into. Just know that the boy I knew couldn’t have possibly disappeared with a poof and been replaced by a philanthropic angel. He’s still in there, believe me.”

“Whatever you say, girlfriend.”

Chapter Three

Carrying a large box packed with bags of Christmas cookies—two each of frosted sugar, peanut butter crisscross, and the thumbprint kind with a big Hershey’s kiss stuck in the middle, courtesy of Pete Rutherford’s kitchen—Dixie made her way through the halls of Buncombe County General Hospital to the pediatric ward on the third floor. She had been warned, at risk of death, not to share the origin of this holiday treat with a living soul. But dressed in her signature pink uniform with its attached white apron while waving and stopping to chat with folks, mostly regulars at the diner, she was like a walking billboard for Pete’s. What’s more, if he’d truly wanted to remain a mysterious cookie benefactor, he’d have sprung for cab fare instead of tossing her the keys to his truck, which hadPete’s Dineremblazoned across both doors.

When it came to kids, the old surly grouch was a big softie, especially sick ones in the hospital at Christmas time. It was sweet and she couldn’t keep the grin from her face each time she pictured her big, grizzly bear of a boss tying a dainty bow on one hundred individual bags.

Getting off the elevator, she took a right, passed through a long corridor, then at the corner made another right, immediately noting that the institutional celery green walls had become painted murals of colorful clowns and circus animals to brighten a sick child’s day.

Dixie’s first stop was the nurse’s station to see who was allowed cookies as part of their doctor’s orders. In the heavy shoulder tote that bumped against her hip with every step, she was also equipped with holiday coloring books and crayons for those who couldn’t partake. No child would be left out today; Pete had made sure of that.

Once she got her list of room numbers and corresponding treats, leaving the huge cookie tin for the nursing staff as instructed, she’d deliver her goodies and hopefully a bit of Christmas cheer. Afterward, she was headed up the mountain to visit her mother. Not the highlight of her week, but she couldn’t put it off any longer.

As she neared the station in the center of the long, wide hallway, a door opened and a man came striding out. Skidding to a halt, she juggled her box of fragile sweets that would be smashed to bits and good only for ice cream topping if it hit the floor.

“Whoa!” the man called as he grabbed her upper arm with one hand and the teetering carton with other, in a valiant attempt to keep them from hitting the hard commercial tile beneath her feet.

“Sorry,” he added as he stabilized them both. “They really need to put a window in this door and a mirror ball on the wall so we can see people approaching. This happensdaily.”

She caught her breath while Kyle, the last person she expected to see, relieved her of the heavy container.

“Hey, Dixie.”

“Uh, hi. What are you doing here?”

He tilted his chin down to the stitching on the chest of his white lab coat, which read K. Prescott, MD—Orthopedics.

Duh, she thought, blushing at her stupid question, then compounded it by muttering, “Oh, right.”

He grinned as he eyed the contents of her package, the lid having popped open in their near-miss collision. “You’re making cookie rounds?”

“Yeah,” she said as she reached for them. “And I need to get started because this is quite a list.”

“Hopefully, it won’t be nearly as long by Christmas Eve. We try to get as many kids home for the holidays that we can. I’m finished with my rounds,” he added, grabbing the paper with names and room numbers. He tilted his head to the right. “Jason Wright is my patient, he’s in this first room. Come on.”

Having little choice but to follow, she spent the next two hours delivering her cookies with Dr. Prescott, who earned a grin from every sick child, charmed each parent—particularly the moms who seemed to melt when he turned his disarming grin on them—and picked up a few nurses who eagerly offered to help him with his task. Dixie ignored the curious and often envious glances they sent her way. And, except for being irritated by the overtly flirty nursing staff, she found she had thoroughly enjoyed herself by the time they reached the end of the lengthy list.

“That’s every kid and nearly every cookie,” he announced. As he did so, he flipped over the cardboard container and held up one last remaining bag. “Who gets the one left over?”

“You do, as a reward for helping me cheer up the kids. You have a gift with them.”

“Why, thank you,” he said with a grin as he took a big bite of cookie. “And I swear I didn’t maneuver for the last bag to be peanut butter, although they are my favorite. Want one?”

Her stomach growled as though on cue and they both laughed.

“Gift giving is hungry work, don’t mind if I do.”

Kyle brushed the crumbs from his fingers while he watched her chew. She became self-conscious and licked her lips, in case there were crumbs. His smile faded, a gleam of keen interest entering his gaze as it settled on her mouth. He took a step closer.

“Um, I need to go.”

“In a minute. There’s one other thing to do before I can let you leave.”

“What’s that?”

“We have to kiss.”

---