“Why can’t my mom take me?” Austin quizzed, suddenly confused.
Bartholomew swallowed hard. That’s a great question. Lord, this is difficult I can’t deal with kids. Not anymore. He shot a look at Austin’s mother, silently pleading for her help. It was no use. The self-absorbed woman was more concerned with her smartphone than her child. He tore the cuff free and dropped it back on the counter. “We’ll be at the hospital before you know it. Isn’t it fun riding in here?”
“There’s no siren.”
“Well, it’s not life or death.”
“It’d be more fun if there was a siren.”
“Sorry, kiddo.”
The boy’s lip popped out in objection as he slumped back on the pillow. Bartholomew bit back a snarl as he stared out the back window. He tugged at the dark blue uniform that covered his tall, sculpted body. This whole job sucks.
He popped open the door as the ambulance screeched to a stop in front of the emergency room bay doors. He carefully pulled the gurney free and then pushed it inside. He was met by a crowd of doctors. “What is going on here?” one demanded.
“Boy fell off a piece of playground equipment,” Bartholomew reported.
“And they called for an ambulance?”
Bartholomew thumbed toward the mother who was now leaning against the wall and still engrossed in her phone. “Mom couldn’t be torn away to get behind the wheel, I guess.”
The doctor shook his head as he directed toward a room. Bartholomew slumped onto a stool as he watched them disappear. His head shot up at the sound of soft sweet giggles. His eyes met with a pair of ice blue ones, framed by a cascade of ebony curls.
"Rough day so far?" Maggie surmised. She glided past Bartholomew, her small frame dressed in a pair of aqua blue scrubs. She lifted herself onto one of the counter-high clinic chairs as she eyed Bartholomew, amused.
"You could say that," he confessed. "I don't do well with kids. I’m better with adults. The last time I dealt with a kid, it didn't work out for me."
"You could work at the gallery.”
Bartholomew shook his head. "No. Sloan has been more than generous to me. I need to make my way on my own for a while.”
Maggie gently rubbed his shoulder. Her touch sent shivers through his body. "I understand." She paused for a moment. “Now that’s a man I can’t see doing well with a child."
“Who?” Bartholomew asked puzzled.
“My brother. He is cold, clever, calculating. I don’t know if he has ever been near a child. Or if he knows how to care for one. Or if he even has a warm spot in his heart for one.”
“He has a warm spot for Abbey.”
“Yes, but she also has things he wants. One of which brought the conception of my future niece or nephew.”
“True. However, Sloan has been preparing for this baby more than Abbey. And that woman is precious to him. Any baby she would give him would be too.”
Bartholomew noticed the sudden quiet between them. He looked up at Maggie, staring deep into her eyes. They sparkled in amazement at his words. Her cheeks tinged pink. Bartholomew smiled. If Maggie thought what I said was romantic, do I have a shot with her?
Maggie broke the silence between them. “Bartholomew, what you said at dinner about being in the army. The dishonorable discharge. What happened?”
Bartholomew gazed at her for a few moments more, studying her, gauging his trust in her. He picked up a stack of medical charts and shuffled them while his mind raced. “Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered.
“You can trust me,” she pried.
“Maggie, I really don’t want to talk about it.”
They both turned as a voice boomed through the nurses’ station. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, EMT?”
Bartholomew’s eyes narrowed to slits as he inspected the man at the end of the hall. He was roughly the same height and build as Bartholomew and relatively the same age. The man had short-cropped brown hair and deep brown eyes. The shirt, tie, and slacks under his white medical coat indicated one thing—doctor.
Bartholomew glanced at the women scattered around the station—some visibly swooning, some purring for attention, some whimpering over love lost. He set the files down gently. “Nothing.”
The man strode across the room and slapped the chart against his chest. “These are medical files. Not toys. I’d appreciate that you leave them for the medical professionals. All right, cowboy?” Then he turned to Maggie, smiling slyly at the beauty. He took her hand in his. “And you are?”
“Maggie Morrison,” she croaked. Bartholomew saw the sudden dreamy look in her eyes.
“Pleased to meet you, Maggie. I’m Doctor Jackson Davis. Can I take you to get a cup of coffee one of these days? Your accent is intoxicating.”
Maggie giggled uncontrollably. Bartholomew fought desperately to suppress the growl lodged in his throat. Jackson straightened his stance and pointed toward the ER bay door. “Why don’t you get back in your clown car and try to be of use to someone,” he ordered.
Bartholomew snarled as he hopped to his feet and stormed down the hall.
»»•««
Abbey walked along the crisscrossed sidewalks of her neighborhood toward downtown Mount Vernon. She sighed happily. Her house was finally done. It was just her and Sloan alone once again. She loved her new family. But being alone with her husband was far better. They could be less behaved, have less inhibitions—they could be more naked.
She looked at the houses around her and then up the hill toward the college. Mount Vernon was a far cry from New York City. Although Abbey had grown up in the small town, she already missed the big city.
How in the world is Sloan going to survive? Does he realize what he’s gotten himself into?
By now, he had to be missing his penthouse overlooking the streets of Manhattan. She was sure he was missing five-star restaurants and Broadway plays. Certainly he was missing his Hummer. And the dead quiet at night instead of the steady stream of traffic must be maddening.
Can he adjust to pancake breakfasts at the fire station or small town festivals? Can he adjust to the fact that the place to get a drink isn’t an invite only nightclub, but the corner bar? He’s pretty much invincible, but I think this might actually kill him.
For once, Sloan was the fish out of water, not her. I’ll do everything I can to help him adjust, but I bet he calls for his jet by the end of the week.
Abbey heaved another heavy sigh. Not that I ever fit in around here. Throughout her school years, she had blended into the background. The only thing she was known for was being the librarian’s daughter. The hippie librarian’s daughter.
High school was torture.
The first day of high school, she had become the target of the popular girls—Dani, Violet, and Sami. They were all cheerleaders. They all came from money. They wore the best clothes. The boys in their class fell over themselves to catch their attention.
And they had made it their personal mission to make every day intolerable for Abbey. They had spit on her. They made fun of her clothes, her hair, her mother, and then dragged the rest of the student body into her misery. One day, Abbey had stopped showering after gym class when she came out and her clothes were gone. It had unleashed a new barrage of humiliation.
Abbey shuddered. Those were four years I wish I could forget. It was no wonder why she couldn’t believe Michael had wanted to be with her. Not that he was any better than they were.
She half chuckled. I have to thank them. My snarky, smart ass attitude was courtesy of them. They sure backed off when the sarcasm flowed. It was the first time I could start making friends.
She started when she looked up. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t realize she had arrived at the gallery. She looked up at the large storefront window capped with an arch of stained glass. Pushing the door open, she stepped inside.
Sloan cocked a sexy grin as he wiped his hand on a rag. “Hey, luv.”
&nb
sp; “Hi.” Abbey glanced around the gallery. The wooden floors and trim that had looked so dull when she first stepped foot in this room now gleamed a golden brown. “You’ve been busy.”
“Aye. The first shipment of my paintings should arrive sometime tomorrow afternoon.” He looked past her out the window. “Where is your car?”
“I walked. Which reminds me. Are you bringing a vehicle out here from New York? You certainly weren’t comfortable driving my little car.”
“Your death trap, you mean. No. I don’t think either of my million-dollar, Italian-built sports cars would blend well on the streets of Mount Vernon, do you?”
Oh definitely not. Were those the car titles I was signing? “What about the Hummer?”
“Still a little much.”
“So, are you going to buy another car?” Abbey scrunched the bridge of her nose at the idea. Sloan was a master negotiator when it came to art or real estate. But a vehicle?
He nodded toward the window. “Already handled, Abigail.”
Abbey slowly turned, gasping when she came face-to-face with the gleaming chrome grill of a very large, electric blue truck. One of those huge quad-cab models that ran on diesel. Its brand new body sparkled in the summer sun.
The gallery door opened. In stepped a bald man in a polo shirt and slacks. Acid bubbled in Abbey’s already fragile stomach. It was Violet’s father.
“Mr. O’Riley,” he announced. “The truck is detailed and ready for you. Are you ready to go sign the papers?”
“Aye.” Sloan laid the rag on the table.
Violet’s father turned toward Abbey, a sneer plastered across his face. “Abbey. Didn’t know you came home. Guess the whole book thing didn’t work out, huh?”
Abbey stared at him in silence. Then she turned her head as she felt Sloan’s fingertips caress the small of her back.
“The book thing worked out just fine. Are you ready to go, Abigail?”
“Why is she going with us?”
Sloan laughed. “She has to sign the title. She owns the truck too.”
“Why would she own your truck?”
“She’s my wife.”
Abbey watched as the color drained from the man’s face. She fought back a smug smile as she walked with Sloan. He took her hand and helped her into the extended cab. Abbey watched as Violet’s father climbed into the passenger seat. Sloan threw the truck in reverse and pulled into traffic.
She wasn’t surprised at the royal treatment Sloan received at the dealership. However, she was shocked at what little paperwork had to be done. It stood to reason, as he paid cash. There were none of those uncomfortable loan forms. After fifteen minutes, a cup of gourmet coffee, and a giant chocolate chip cookie, they walked out hand-in-hand to their new purchase.
Sloan smiled at her as he slipped the key into the ignition. “Can I treat you to lunch?”
She laughed. “After that cookie?”
Sloan chuckled as he pulled onto the highway. He drove the short distance to the sandwich shop. Abbey waited as he crossed around the tail of the truck to help her down from her perch.
The restaurant was nearly deserted for being the early afternoon. Abbey ordered a veggie sub. As Sloan waited for his sandwich to be prepared, he chatted with the owner, inquiring about the man’s wife and two sons. She stared at Sloan in disbelief as he asked about the older son’s wedding and how the younger son was doing at college. How does he possibly know all this? Abbey was still speechless as they sat down to eat.
“Do you like the truck?” Sloan asked.
“Yeah, I guess.”
Sloan set his sandwich down on its wrapper. He looked at her with a concerned expression. “You don’t seem pleased.”
“No, it’s great.”
“What then?”
“I’m trying to figure out when you went truck shopping.”
Sloan laughed. “Did you think I’ve been at the gallery the whole time?”
“Actually, yes. And how did you know so much about the guy who owns this place?”
“I’ve had lunch here every day this week. I’ve talked to him. I’ve met his wife and his sons.”
Abbey frowned at him. “I’ve eaten here since it’s been open. I didn’t know any of that.”
Sloan winked at her. “You’re the great writer. You don’t ask questions?”
A small growl escaped her throat as she bit into her sandwich a little harder that she needed to. “Smartass.”
Sloan threw their wrappers away and then opened the door for Abbey. She picked up her purse and followed. The screech of tires and crunching of metal tore their attention from each other and toward the parking lot. Abbey gasped at the smoking purple sports car now embedded in the rear corner panel of the truck. Sloan dashed across the parking lot and wrenched open its door.
“Are you all right, lass?” he questioned as he reached in to help the woman out.
“Yes. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.”
Abbey felt her heart bottom out in her chest. Out of the sports car stepped Dani, her long golden hair blowing in the breeze. As Abbey remembered, she wore a black skirt too short, a nearly see-through blouse, cut too low, and heels that had to be impossible to walk in. Dani clung to Sloan as she stumbled.
“No worries. Let’s take these both to the body shop at the dealership. I’ll take care of the repairs,” Sloan consoled.
Abbey watched as Dani’s eyes finally focused on the sinfully sexy man steadying her. Dani’s lips curled in a seductive smile. “Oh, my hero.”
“It’s nothing.”
The scene was all Abbey could stomach. The whole thing could have been shot for the cover of a romance novel. I should have never come back here. I hear Montana is pretty this time of year. We should have gone there. She jumped at a voice behind her.
“Abs! You’re back!”
Abbey turned to find Tom, her old friend from school. His dark hair ruffled in the warm breeze. She remembered the last time she talked to him. He was telling me that my fiancé had taken all my money. “Hey, Tom. It’s great to see you.”
“Likewise. What brings you home?”
“Just moved back.” Abbey glanced over her shoulder. Sloan had set Dani back on her feet, but the blonde still clung to him like a second skin. Abbey looked back at Tom. “Could you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“I need a ride back to my house.”
“Of course. My SUV is around the corner.”
“Ok. Just give me a moment to let my husband know I’m leaving.”
“Husband?”
“Yeah. I’d love to introduce you.” She glanced back at the scene unfolding. “But maybe another time. Hold on.”
Abbey crossed the parking lot and nudged Sloan’s arm. “I’m going to let you handle this. An old friend offered me a ride home.”
Sloan frowned at her. “Old friend? The man on the curb.”
“Yeah. Tom. I’ll introduce him to you later. See you at home.”
Abbey didn’t miss Dani’s devilish smirk as she pressed a kiss to Sloan’s cheek before walking back to Tom. Silently, Abbey followed him, casting one last spiteful glance over her shoulder. I’ll just be in the way. The sooner he finishes this, the sooner he can come home.
∙•∙
Abbey waved goodbye to Tom as she unlocked the front door of the house and then stepped inside. He had a million questions she didn’t want to answer. Telling him she moved back to Mount Vernon to protect her Irish billionaire husband would lead to a conversation that would take hours. And living in such a small town, he’d learn soon enough. Picking up her current novel, she nestled into the armchair and began to read.
She jumped, startled as she heard the door thrown open. Sloan stormed into the house and stomped from room to room. He stopped when he found Abbey curled up in the armchair reading. He slumped in his armchair and ran his hand through his thick hair.
“Went that well, huh?” Abbey questioned.
“Yo
u couldn’t have waited there with me?” Sloan countered. “And who is this Tom fella?”
"You didn't need me there. You had enough to deal with. And Tom has been my friend since we were little. I want to introduce him to you one of these days. He runs the bank. He offered me a ride so you could take care of things.”
“I would rather you stay by me. Do I need to remind you of New York? Of Belfast?”
“No, you don’t. You can trust Tom. Believe me. I was fine. Just like the girl who hit you was just fine in your more-than-capable hands."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You wouldn’t get it. Just relax.
"I called your cell."
"Really? Never heard it ring."
Sloan snarled as he stormed into the kitchen. Abbey listened to him curse as he rummaged loudly through her purse. He tossed the phone into her lap as he re-entered the living room. "Helps if it's turned on," he barked.
"I didn’t realize it was off. But I do have a question. What took you so long? It doesn’t take two hours to have the body shop inspect a couple cars. What held you up?”
Sloan sighed and then rose from his chair. He took her hands in his as he sat on the edge of the couch. "I had to take a call at the dealership. A group of investors wants me to build a complex in Miami, like the one in San Francisco."
Abbey's eyes met his. "Are you?"
"San Francisco is exceeding all my expectations. It would be the true beginning of Sloan Enterprises. But it would put off a few things."
"Like?"
"Our ceremony, Abigail. It would be only a couple months. We really haven't put any plans in motion as it is."
Abbey glanced down at her stomach. "Sloan, I'm about to be in my second trimester. I'm about to get big. I don't want to waddle down the aisle."
"Then we wait until next summer, after the baby is born."
Abbey stared at him in silence. "Sure. We can do that."
Abbey fought the sound of disappointment from her voice. She could tell by the way his eyes darkened that he understood her feelings. He leaned toward her and pressed a kiss to her lips. "Abigail, I promise. You can even start hiring chefs and bakers. A year from now, we will be in St. Thomas. We will have our ceremony. Are you sure that it’s all right?”
Heartland Page 4