by Mara Wells
“My mistake.” Caleb finally tore his eyes away. “Nothing hard to take about that ass at all.”
Although she’d been joking around, he wasn’t. She should crack some other lame joke, break the tension building between them, but somehow the image of him pulling her closer and cupping her butt took over her mind, and that was definitely not something to talk about in the middle of the fencing aisle. But it was the only thing on her mind, pushing away words and reason until the whole scene played like a movie in her head. His hands on her backside, his tongue in her mouth, her fingers curled around his biceps, pulling him closer.
“You know who was a hard-ass?” Caleb wrenched his gaze from hers, heat climbing into his cheeks almost like he could tell what she was thinking. God, she hoped not. “My favorite manager, the head of housekeeping. Stayed on me until I could tuck a tight bed and fold the toilet paper like nobody’s business.”
“The idea of you turning over rooms is nearly impossible to picture.” She tugged on the edge of the cart, moving them forward a few feet and apart, creating some kind of distance between him and her overactive imagination.
“Mom hated it and pressured Dad into moving me into management during college. It was more interesting work, but I missed the atmosphere of being one of the crew, you know?”
Riley sucked in her bottom lip and reined in her imagination. “I miss it, too. The team hasn’t stayed in touch since we were let go.”
“I’m sorry.” Caleb squeezed his eyes shut. “I know it doesn’t help what you went through for me to keep apologizing. It’s one thing for my father to screw up his own life, but it’s a whole other level to have done the same to countless others.”
“And to you.” Riley laid a hand on his arm just below the elbow. “It’s not your fault. You did the best you could.” Her own words shocked her. Did she really believe them? Yes, sometime between I’m here to fire you and learning that he’d unclogged toilets and stocked bathrooms with tiny bathroom products, she’d stopped thinking he was responsible for her career derailment. The bitterness that used to burn her stomach when she thought of working at the Donovan Resort was gone. Sadness still lingered, of course, because it was hard to let a dream go, but her life was pretty good right now, all things considered.
“Thanks.” He swallowed, and a long silence stretched between them before he cleared his throat and asked, “Where to now, Ms. Manager?”
“Let’s go to the gardening section and check out some sod.” She confidently led the way, pleased at taking the lead. She did like to manage things, even if she was having difficulty managing her own imagination, her own expectations when it came to Caleb Donovan. Navigate a home-improvement store, though? No problem. She might not know what to do when they got there, but she at least knew her appliance aisle from her dead-bolt aisle.
“‘Dear Dorothy Dog Park,’” she narrated as they walked, attempting to lighten the mood again. “‘However do you keep hooligans from stealing your adorable benches? From Your Furry Friends in Fairhaven.’”
Caleb stopped in the middle of the aisle and grabbed her arm. “Did you say Fur Haven?”
She looked at where his fingers gripped her below the sleeve of her T-shirt. The pressure wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was unexpected. “No, Fairhaven.”
“But Fur Haven.” His hold on her loosened; his hand slid down her arm. “That’s it, isn’t it? The name for our park?”
Riley liked the sound of the words our park, and she liked even more how his fingers linked with hers, pulling her forward in his excitement. “Maybe. What about Bark Park? That’s a popular one.”
“Every town’s got a Bark Park.” Caleb brought their hands up; her knuckles grazed his chin. “We need a name of distinction. One that will have people coming from everywhere, bringing their dogs for an afternoon of play.”
“It’s a neighborhood dog park. Let’s not get carried away.” She chucked his chin with their hands. “You’re such a Donovan. Always thinking big.”
“I want the best for you.” He kissed the back of her hand, a quick, almost thoughtless gesture that nonetheless brought goose bumps running up her arms. “Is that so bad?”
“No.” She let their hands drop back to hang between them, a strange feeling in her stomach. She was such an emotional ping-pong ball around him. She liked him. If she were honest, she liked him a lot. But he was still a Donovan, and that part of him scared her more than a little. Right now, he wanted the best dog park in the world. Once it was built, though, how soon until he was on to his next project? And when he did inevitably move on, what would happen to all this liking that tingled her nerves and made her long to snuggle into him and tell him she didn’t need the best of everything as long as she had him?
Walking into the humid, outdoor gardening section cured her of any desire to cuddle or have any human contact whatsoever. Sweat pooled at the bottom of her spine. Even her feet felt hot in her polka-dot flip-flops.
Riley pointed to sod plugs across the far wall. “Shall we pick out some grass for your Fur Haven Park?”
“I knew you liked the name.” Caleb smiled and pushed the cart down the long row of grass pallets. “Zoysia, Centipede, St. Augustine? This is crazy. There should be one type of grass. One. And we buy it, and it grows. End of story.”
Though Riley shared his surprise at the variety of sod types, she couldn’t help but laugh at his outrage. “Like there’s one kind of car for everyone? One flavor of ice cream? One type of tree?”
“Right? Wouldn’t life be simpler?” He planted a hand on a stack of St. Augustine squares. “Will we need to install a sprinkler system or trust the rain to take care of the new grass? I mean, really, who do we ask these kinds of things? We need some experts because we’re clearly in over our soddin’ heads.”
She groaned at his terrible joke and pulled out her phone. “Maybe Sydney can help.”
“The fashionista with the Chihuahua? How’s she going to help?”
“Sydney styles for all kinds of fancy events.” Riley scrolled until she found Sydney’s contact information. Was it too early in their friendship to favorite her? Nope. Riley added Sydney to the short list. “She told me about a dog wedding where she dressed the entire bridal party, dogs and humans alike. She’s got to know someone who knows this stuff.”
“I hope so.” Caleb leaned heavily on the cart. “Fur Haven Park needs any help it can get.”
Riley put a finger over his lips. “She’s picking up! Hi!”
He nipped the tip of her finger, and she pulled away, acting like he’d bitten her. “Ow! No, sorry, Sydney. Just ridding myself of a pest.” She pointed at the snorkeling turtle on their doggy pool and then back inside at the pool aisle sign.
Caleb took the hint and rolled away while Riley got down to business with Sydney. Caleb might not realize it, but the more neighbors involved in the dog park project, the more support he’d get. She felt a twinge of guilt that her plans somewhat undermined Eliza’s and Grams’ careful scheming, but she shook it off. Anything for the dogs, whatever it took. Even if that meant collaborating with a Donovan.
Chapter 23
“Grams?” Riley used the key she’d had since she’d been ten years old and Grams had deemed her old enough for the responsibility of key stewardship. It was several more years before Grams felt similarly about Riley’s ability to handle a cell phone. Riley was the last in her class to get one—all three Emmas in her class had one since the third grade, for goodness’ sake—but like the key, when Riley finally earned that longed-for phone, she never lost it.
The door swung open with a loud creak that would be excellent if they were running a haunted house for the upcoming Halloween season—that crazy time when stores displayed pumpkins, witches, and skeletons, oh my! right next to turkeys, elves, and reindeer. Grams, however, was not a fan of spooky Halloween. She was more a fan of Glamourween, dressing up as a f
airy or a princess for as long as Riley remembered. Riley added oiling Grams’ front door to her never-ending mental list of things to do at the Dorothy.
Grams’ favorite chair in the living room, perfectly angled for a no-glare view of the TV, was empty. Grams wasn’t in the kitchen, stirring up a pot of her favorite stew or baking cookies for their upcoming bunco night. Riley checked the time on her phone. Odd. Grams knew she was stopping by. Where was she? It was pretty late in the day for a nap, but maybe Grams lay down earlier and hadn’t gotten up yet.
The blood smear on the tile floor in the hallway was Riley’s first clue that something was wrong. Very wrong. It streaked from the bathroom and trailed into the bedroom. Riley’s finger hovered above the 9 of 9-1-1 when she stepped across the threshold and found Grams.
She was lying face up, blood pooled around her head like a dark halo.
9–1-
“Riley?” Grams croaked in a raw voice. “Is that you?”
-1.
Riley knelt next to Grams’ hip. “Don’t move. I’ve called an ambulance.”
The operator quizzed Riley on details and cautioned her not to move her grandmother.
“I’ll be right back.” Riley squeezed her Grams’ hand and sprinted to the door to make sure it was unlocked for the EMTs. There was an emergency personnel code on the box, so they’d have no problem getting into the building. Thank God, the service people had finally showed up to fix the short in that thing. In moments, Riley returned to Grams’ side.
“What happened?”
Grams’ chin quivered. “I was getting out of the nicest bubble bath—you know how Wednesday is the perfect day for that—and I slipped. I don’t know what happened.”
Riley had a theory, and that theory involved the glass of chardonnay Grams liked to drink during her bubble baths. She’d told her grandmother a million times she needed to install handrails in the bathroom.
“Who has the money for that nonsense?” Grams always waved away her concerns. “And don’t get started on me wearing one of those button things. Please. So cheap-looking and gaudy. They won’t go with anything I wear.”
“I love you, Grams,” Riley said, rubbing her grandmother’s hand between her own. Now was not the time to bring up should-haves. “That ambulance will be here any moment.”
Sure enough, not even two minutes passed before a team arrived. The first on the scene was a young woman, Riley’s age or a year or two older, who took over and solicited more answers from Grams.
Yes, she’d been in the bath. Yes, she’d gotten completely out. No, she didn’t remember the fall, just opening her eyes and realizing she was on the bathroom floor.
“Were you unconscious, ma’am?” the young woman asked. Her name tag said Cabrera. Riley assumed that was a last name.
“How would I know that?” Grams fluttered the fingers of her free hand in the air. “I’ve never been unconscious before.”
“How’d you get into this room?”
Grams moved her head to the side and winced. “What room?”
“You’re in the bedroom, Grams. How’d you get here?”
“Keep your head still.” Cabrera flicked back her dark ponytail. “David, can you check the back of her head?”
“On it.” A younger EMT stepped forward, handsome in his freshly pressed uniform. His name tag read Blanco.
Riley looked away. She didn’t need to see every detail. Grams was talking and alive, and that was what she needed to focus on—not the ice that filled her belly at the sight of Grams on the floor. The blood. The quick thought that this was it. This was how it ended. She’d been a few minutes late, and it cost Grams her life.
Grams grunted at whatever David Blanco with his smoothed-back hair and long fingers was doing, but Riley kept her gaze on Grams’ nails, recently painted a chipper orange for October. She’d change it to match her costume, of course, but there were several weeks until Halloween, so she’d play up the holiday color even though she’d never dream of hanging a skeleton on her door or organizing a Dorothy field trip to the haunted house at the race track.
“What?” Riley’s head snapped up. Cabrera had said something, asked something, and she’d missed it.
“We’re taking her to the hospital. You can follow in your car.”
“Oh, of course.” Riley’s head started nodding and didn’t stop.
Two more EMTs came in from the living room, taller than Cabrera, more handsome than Blanco. They loaded Grams onto a stretcher. Riley’s head was still nodding.
Hey. Riley looked down when her phone buzzed. You busy?
Riley’s thumbs answered Caleb before her head kicked in. Grams fell. She’s going to the hospital.
Is she ok? Are you ok?
Yeah, but I gotta go
Which hospital?
Mount Sinai
I’ll meet you there.
Riley stared at the words as if they were in a foreign language. She’d never had anyone to meet her there before. Even now, she knew she should text her mom and let her know what happened. But what would Mom do half a world away working on a twenty-six-night Mediterranean cruise? It had always been Riley and Grams, with special guest star Mom whenever she was in town. No, Riley learned at an early age to deal with crises on her own. Even when Grams had her hip replaced three years ago, Mom hadn’t thought Riley needed any help caring for her during the recovery.
“You’ve got a lot on your plate,” Mom had said in an understanding tone when Riley called her with updates. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll stay out of your hair until this is over.”
I’ll meet you there. Four short words that helped Riley take a deep breath, locate her keys, and lock Grams’ door without breaking into great heaving sobs.
I’ll meet you there. Why hadn’t Aiden ever texted her something like that? To help with Grams’ physical therapy sessions or sit with her during follow-up exams? She’d thought he’d been great, not making her feel guilty about the time she spent with Grams. In hindsight, always so perfect, he couldn’t be bothered. Not about Grams. Not about her. If it wasn’t convenient for him, Aiden wasn’t interested. Caleb was, and that kept her moving forward.
Finally, she texted back Ok, all the breath whooshing out of her lungs. She hesitated in the hallway. Elevator or stairs? Which would be faster? Because if she was going to follow the ambulance, she needed to sprint like LouLou chasing a squirrel up a tree.
* * *
Of course, it wasn’t as simple as that. Before she could make up her mind, Mr. Cardoza waylaid her in the hallway.
“What’s going on? Was that Gloria on the stretcher?” His kind gaze and gentle grasp of her hand brought the tears she’d kept tamped down thus far to the surface. “What’s happened?”
“Grams fell. There was a lot of bleeding, but she’s conscious. I’m sorry. I have to go.” She tugged away from him.
“Of course. Of course.” He didn’t let go until he’d pulled her in for a hug. “You need anything, you let me know. These phone things? They work both ways, you know?”
Riley sniffed back the sob that wanted to escape her throat. “Thank you.” Even LouLou wouldn’t have made it to the elevator faster than she did, and thankfully the car was already on the second floor.
As soon as the door opened, Riley stepped into the lobby. But what about LouLou? She hadn’t been out in hours.
Bang. Bang. Someone rapped on the glass front doors. Outside, Eliza stood there, Lady sitting at her heels. Riley hurried to let them in.
“Sorry, I can’t talk right now. I—”
“Who is it?” Eliza guided Riley toward her apartment. “We saw the ambulance. I came to help.”
“Grams.” Riley sniffed back another of those runaway sobs. “She fell. I have to get to the hosp—”
“Mmm-hmm, I got you. Let’s get you some shoes.” Eliza perused
the collection outside Riley’s door. “Your sneakers? Hospitals can be really cold.”
Riley kicked off her flip-flops and slid into the Skechers. She fished around in her bag until she found her keys. When her shaking hands finally managed to unlock the door, LouLou greeted her with a clockwise spin of excitement. When she spotted Lady, she looped an extra few spins in the opposite direction out of joy.
“She hasn’t been out in hours. I’ll put some pads down, and I’ll—”
Eliza took the keys from Riley’s hands, separating the apartment key from the tangle and pocketing it. “You just go. Lady and I will take care of your little poochy. Won’t we, girl?”
Lady cocked her head, tongue lolling to the side in a clear sign of agreement. LouLou did another joyful spin.
“Okay, that’s good. That’s wonderful. You’re wonderful!” Riley hugged Eliza, grabbed her purse, and was out the door.
* * *
Riley raced for the ER door, grateful for Eliza’s insight into footwear so that she could fly without worrying about losing a shoe. It had taken an inordinate amount of time to find parking in the multistory parking garage. She should’ve valeted, but it hadn’t occurred to her until she was circling the third floor, and by then, she figured she might as well keep going to the top.
“Hey.” Caleb stood outside the doors, hands shoved into the front pockets of his dark denim jeans. He rocked back on his heels and greeted her with a hesitant smile. He was so handsome, like paramedic-hot but with more tailoring, and he looked at her like, well, she wasn’t sure like what. But whatever it was in his eyes, it slowed her down and flushed her cheeks.
“Oh.” She halted to a stop, skidding a bit and barely managing to miss stepping into a giant wad of pink chewing gum. She sidestepped it. “Hi.”
“You okay?”
“I don’t know.” She pressed under her eyes with the pads of her fingers, as if pressure could keep the well of tears in place. “I’ve got to find her.”