My Forever Valentine: New Zealand Happy-Ever-After Romance (Due South: A Sexy New Zealand Romance Book 5) by Tracey Alvarez

Shaye & Del
    “Ya know, you don’t have to sit with me all bloody day,” Bill grumbled.
    Del Westlake glanced up from his newspaper. Over the top of his dad’s e-reader, Del could just make out Bill’s beetled eyebrows and scowl. His skin still looked pale against the white hospital sheets, but the return of his normal grouchy temperament was a good indication he was on the mend.
    “Just keeping an eye on the goods. Making sure you behave yourself.” Del stretched out his legs. His tee shirt rubbed over the small wound on his side, and he winced but quickly covered the grimace with a toothy smile. “I’m not giving you my other kidney if you screw up this one.”
    His dad chuckled, tapping the e-reader to turn the page on the Tom Clancy book he was currently reading. It was Shaye’s e-reader—loaded up with a bunch of shoot-em-up, spy and action novels she knew his dad would appreciate while stuck in Invercargill hospital recovering from surgery.
    Del shifted again. Sighed. God, he missed her.
    “Got ants in your pajama pants, boy?” His dad tried to cover his concern with gruffness, but Del’s mom had whispered that the first thing Bill asked when the anesthetic wore off was, “Is my son okay?”
    “Just restless.” Del folded the newspaper and tossed it on the bed.
    “You’ll see her tomorrow.”
    When the hell had his father gotten so intuitive? “Yeah.”
    “Go have a nap. That’ll pass some time.”
    “Naps are for old men. You, for example.”
    His dad tapped the screen with his middle finger then casually flipped Del off with it. “An old man nap might take your mind off the part of your anatomy that’s making ya antsy.”
    “Whatever.”
    Del scratched the scruff on his jaw. He hadn’t shaved this morning after he’d seen the weather forecast and texted Shaye to order her to stay put on the island. Hating the one-hour crossing from Oban to the mainland at the best of times, she didn’t need to come all the way here in bad weather. Especially when he’d be discharged tomorrow.
    No need, except he missed her like frickin’ crazy.
    His dad lowered the e-reader and nailed Del with a stare. “You organized some flowers for my girlie?”
    “What am I? An idiot?” Del blew a huff of air out his nose. “Of course. And a kilo of organic cinnamon sticks.”
    An eye-roll from his father. “How bloody romantic. Cinnamon sticks on Valentine’s Day.”
    “She’ll love them.”
    “My son, the die-hard romantic.”
    They both laughed, and when Del met his father’s gaze, the warmth there soothed the ache in his side. Thank God the grumpy old bastard had made it through. Thank God the transplant had been successful.
    Outside, wind whistled around the building’s corner. Del breathed in the scent of antiseptic, cleaning products, and a faint trace of their lunch that day—egg and chive sandwiches.
    “Speaking of Valentine’s Day…” Bill said.
    His dad’s cheeks had gone from pale to mottled with pink patches. Was Bill… blushing ? Del peered a little closer. Yep—his dad was definitely blushing.
    Del raised an eyebrow, folding his arms. “Something you’d like to tell me?”
    His father scratched a thumbnail up and down the length of the e-reader. “Oh, er... Well, I don’t want you to over react, but I had some flowers sent to your mother. She’s been very good to me over the last year.”
    Del squashed the laughter bubbling in his gut before it exploded out of him. “Bill Westlake, are you wooing my mother?”
    “Wooing,” his dad spluttered. “What sort of old-fashioned word is that? You don’t even know what it means.”
    “It means”—Del cocked a finger—“that now that you’re not going to die, you’re planning a campaign to get Mom back.”
    “Hmmmph.”
    A sideways glance and more fiddling with the e-reader told Del he was onto something.
    “And if I was campaigning…?”
    “I’d say about bloody time.”
    Though they’d been divorced since Del was a