Christmas Kisses (Romance on the Ranch Series #5) by Verna Clay Read Free Book Online Page A

is
because of the meds he's on and the other part–"
    Mac scowled as the doctor helped him from the car,
but Dr. Hillsborough continued, "–is because he's got that kind of
disposition."
    Cecelia stepped forward to assist, but Mac shook
his head. "I've got that kind of disposition because my arm feels like
it's got a flame thrower dousing it." He took a step, wobbled, and the
doctor placed an arm around his waist, waiting for him to steady.
    Dr. Hillsborough said, "Ms. Brightman, can
you get his cane from the backseat?"
    Cecelia rushed to comply and then ran up the
steps to hold the door open. She heard several descriptive phrases from Mac
while his doctor helped him into the living room.
    Mac said, "Put me in my recliner. If I have
to hole up in bed a minute longer you might as well commit me to a loony
hospital."
    Slowly, Dr. Hillsborough lowered Mac into his chair
and the raw pain on his face made Cecelia want to cry.
    Mac said tightly, "You can lean my cane
against the wall." He pointed to where he wanted it.
    Cecelia obeyed and then asked, "Mac, can I
get you something to drink?"
    He took a deep breath, released it, took another
one, and finally said, "Sure, got a beer?"
    Cecelia didn't know what to say and glanced at
the doctor. He was grinning. She looked back at Mac to see him almost smiling
at her. "Just kidding," he rasped. His sort-of-smile vanished. "A
glass of water would be most appreciated."
    Cecelia rushed to the kitchen and filled a tall
glass. Then she realized she didn't know if he preferred ice in his water. She
turned to go back to the living room and ask, and almost bumped into the doctor.
"Do you know if he likes ice?" she asked breathlessly.
    "He does."
    While she added ice to the glass, the doctor
said, "I'll just pour myself a cup of that coffee you got brewed and sit
at the table. We can discuss Mac's care when you return. Would you like me to
pour you a cup, too?"
    "Yes, please." Cecelia took the glass
of water to the living room. Her patient had his eyes closed, but when she
quietly set the glass on his table, he opened them and studied her face. He
said, "Sorry if I was rude. I'll try to watch it."
    "Oh, no. I didn't think you were rude. I'm
sorry you're in so much pain." She was at a loss as to what else to say.
    Mac adjusted his position in the chair and
winced. He said through clenched teeth, "This sure as hell better be worth
it."
    Cecelia patted her hands against her thighs in a
helpless gesture. "Is there anything I can do? Maybe a pillow would
help."
    Mac released a frustrated breath. "No, I'm
fine. Go on back to the kitchen and see what words of wisdom Dr. Frankenstein
has for you."
    In spite of her nervousness, Cecelia grinned and
Mac returned it—in a fashion.
    Returning to the kitchen, Dr. Hillsborough
motioned to the chair across from him. He pushed a cup of coffee toward her. "Have
a seat, Cecelia. Do you mind if I call you by your first name?"
    "Not at all. Thanks for the coffee."
She reached for the metal pitcher of cream and poured a liberal amount into her
cup. She watched the swirls created by stirring and waited for the doctor to
speak what was on his mind.
    The man was obviously in no hurry and sipped his
brew. For a few minutes he talked about how much he'd enjoyed the drive from
Denver and that Mac had slept most of the way.
    Cecelia listened with interest. Everything about
Mac fascinated her, even the mundane.
    Finally, Dr. Hillsborough said, "We won't
know about the success of the operation for at least six to eight weeks. For
Mac's sake, I hope it's a success." He looked away and then back again.
"If it isn't, he's going to lose the use of his painting hand and that
will affect him–" He glanced away again. "–in a bad way. With the
death of his wife and the loss of his child, his creative expression is the
only thing that's kept him going." The doctor returned his stare to Cecelia.
"You do know about his child, don't you?"
    Cecelia could hardly speak past the lump in