Love On Anchor Island: An Anchor Island Novel

over his head, he said, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Why did we wait so long to do that?” Roxie asked, lounging atop Alex’s chest and feeling more relaxed than she had in years.
“We’ve only known each other for a month, and you didn’t like me until ten days ago, remember?” This euphoria made her regret those wasted early days. “I liked you,” she admitted. “I just didn’t want to like you.”
He dipped his chin down to look at her. “I’m going to try not to be insulted by that.”
If she couldn’t be honest while naked in a man’s bed, when could she be?
“You just aren’t my type.”
“I know I’ll regret asking this,” Alex sighed, “but what is your type?”
Maybe this wasn’t the time to be honest. She kept her answer vague.
“Some would say bad boys. Others might call them lost souls.”
“What do you call them?”
This one she could answer. “Assholes.”
Alex sat up higher, rolling her onto his stomach. “Hold on. You didn’t like me because I’m not an asshole?”
“I said I liked you,” Roxie corrected, wishing he wouldn’t make a thing of this.
“Oh, right. You just didn’t want to like me.”
Roxie scooted over to her side of the bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin. “If I explain this to you, you’re going to argue with me.”
No immediate response came so she ventured a glance his way. Alex leaned on his side, his head propped on his hand. “This is more about you than about me, isn’t it?”
His ability to read her was nerve-racking. “It’s true, though.”
“No, it isn’t,” he assured her. “You’ve convinced yourself that there’s something wrong with you. That you’re somehow defective. It’s bullshit, and knowing that you think that makes me want to find that family of yours and shake the crap out of them.”
She’d never found an empty threat so sexy before. “Aren’t doctors supposed to do no harm?” she asked, hiding her smile behind the sheet.
A strong arm stretched beneath the covers and pulled her back to him. “I’ll make an exception.” Warm lips pressed against her temple as he wrapped himself around her. “You deserve everything, Roxie. Everything. Someday I hope to make you believe that.”
If he was trying to drive her to tears, he was doing a damn fine job. Despite recent events, Roxie was not the crying type. Waterworks had never gotten her anywhere. They just pissed her off, which typically made her cry even harder. But no one like Alex had ever walked into her life before. No one had ever looked at her the way he did. Really looked. Until now, she’d been afraid of what they might see.
“What if I’m not as special as you think I am?” she whispered.
“What if you are?” he whispered back.
Who’d have thought she’d ever find herself such an optimist? Letting the fear go, she tucked her head beneath his chin. “I think I could love you one day, Alex Fielding.”
His arms tightened. “I’d like that very much.”
Content for possibly the first time in her life, Roxie drifted off to sleep with a smile on her lips.
Roxie left shortly after dawn to get in her run before spending the day with Callie. Henri had some writer-related event she couldn’t get out of, but she planned to be back on duty by Monday. Since the nail through the thumb incident, no one had allowed Roxie to pick up a hammer, leaving her to light duty—like keeping Callie company.
Alex spent the morning whistling through his appointments and getting odd looks from Flora.
“Are you sure you’re good?” she asked for the second time since returning from lunch. “I can’t remember ever seeing you this chipper.”
“I’m happy all the time,” he reminded her.
Flora scoffed. “Not this happy. Elder Wonnamack’s appointment was scheduled for ten minutes ago,” she said, getting back to business, “but he isn’t here yet. Elder isn’t usually late, so this is strange.” After taking a look out the front window, she crossed the lobby to take a closer look.
“What is it?” Alex asked.
“A Mercedes just rolled up, and unless Elder traded in that old truck of his, this has to be someone else.” She turned his way. “Did you make an appointment and not put it in the computer?”
Alex rarely scheduled appointments. Besides, he didn’t know a soul on the island who owned a Mercedes.
“He looks important,” Flora added, peering through the blind. “Kind of looks like you.”
Heart in his throat, Alex remembered the one person he knew who drove only Mercedes. But he wouldn’t. . .
Flora jumped back as the front door opened and his father stepped inside.
“Dad?” Alex said, dumbfounded. “What are you doing here?”
Removing black leather gloves, the older man said, “I’m here to talk some sense into you.” Taking in his surroundings, Dr. David Fielding, accomplished neurosurgeon and the bane of Alex’s existence, smacked the gloves against his thigh. “This is what you gave up Philadelphia for?”
If he’d bothered to visit any time in the last three years, he’d know the answer to that.
“Dad, I have patients this afternoon. If you wanted to talk to me, you should have called.” Alex would not clear his schedule simply because his father deigned to make an appearance. “How did you get here?”
“I flew into Norfolk and rented a car.”
Which meant an hour flight plus a four-hour drive, not including traffic delays. A lot of time to consider his approach, and he’d still opened with an unspoken insult to his son’s office. Amazing.
“Can I take your coat?” Flora asked.
His father spun as if he hadn’t noticed another person in the room. Of course, he hadn’t. In his world, nurses were invisible until he needed one.
“Flora Meyer, this is my father, Dr. David Fielding.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said.
“Yes,” Dad replied, barely sparing Flora a glance. “Where can we talk? I assume you have an office here somewhere.”
“I’m working,” Alex said, resisting the urge to tell him to go to hell.
Jaw set, he took a seat along