“Woman, I keep trying to tell you! Now put some clothes on, unless you really want to make an impression on the pilot.”
She came around the side of the bed and gave me a hug. “I don’t know what to think about you, but thank you for this.”
“Pas de probléme, mademoiselle. Now shake that fine tail-feather of yours.”
“Yes, sir.”
11
Do You Want Me to Go?
Belle—6:52 AM that same morning
It was with no little bit of surprise that I found myself buckled into a luxurious lounge chair covered with a blanket at thirty thousand feet. Wordlessly, Beau handed me a bottle of chilled cranberry juice and two Advils. It was uncanny how he seemed to just know what needed to be done without being told. It was jarring. Really. Not to mention unexpected. I didn’t know how to feel about him, us, my father, anything.
The past forty-eight hours had been a veritable rollercoaster of highs and lows for me.
We finished the technical specs for the spring menswear line. I met Beau’s family. I met Beau’s best friend. I met his ex-girlfriend. He slept with her and then broke into my house. He said things I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear. And my daddy was lying in a hospital bed in Atlanta. It was all a little much to digest on no sleep and a slight champagne hangover.
Yet here we were. I tried twisting open the top of the cranberry juice bottle and failed. I tapped it against the armrest and tried again. Nothing. Beau reached over and took the bottle, smacked the bottom, and turned the top once before handing it back to me. I took a long sip and swallowed down the Advil before leaning my head back and closing my eyes.
“Everything starting to catch up with you?” Beau asked.
“You could say that.” He was the king of shrinking down huge thoughts into one succinct sentence.
The pilot’s voice came on over the speaker. “We’ve got clear skies all the way there; flight time is less than two hours. Sit back and enjoy the ride. Please let me or Samantha know if you need anything.”
I didn’t even have the energy to open my eyes. “How is that possible? Isn’t it a two and a half hour flight?”
“We’re flying from Addison Airport to Fulton County Brown Field so we don’t have to wait to taxi in or out. Plus these small planes have some speed on them.”
I nodded. “How far to the hospital from Brown Field?”
“It’s fifteen miles. We’ll be there before you know it.”
“Did you call—” Before I could formulate the question, he stopped me.
“Be easy, chérie. We called everybody we could. They’ll handle it. All you have to do is sit back and take your rest.”
“But—” I felt his lips graze my forehead; my skin heated where he touched.
“Faire un petit sommeil, Belle. Go to sleep. When you open your eyes, we’ll be there.”
I closed my eyes for just a second...
“Welcome to Atlanta, Mr. Montgomery. We’ve arranged transport as you asked.”
I blinked my eyes open as Beau responded to the pilot. “Thank you, I appreciate you coming on such short notice this morning.”
“Not a problem at all. You have the number if you need a ride back.”
I sat up, still half asleep, and trying to get my bearings. Plane. Beau. Atlanta. Daddy. I tossed the blanket to the side and unbuckled the belt. I hopped up and looked around for my carryon and my purse. Beau put a hand on my shoulder.
“Take a minute; splash some water on your face. I’ve got everything ready.”
“But my father—”
“Is in surgery. He’s doing well. I’ll tell you more when you get back.”
I blinked at him. Okay, Delaney Mirabella, pull it together. I nodded. “Thanks, I’ll be right back.” I snatched up my purse and dashed into the bathroom. I used the facilities and turned on the faucet. I glanced up and gasped. Oh my, damn. Well, that wasn’t attractive, was it? This is what four glasses of champagne, two hours of airplane sleep, and not enough water would do for you. I placed a washcloth under steaming hot water, let it cool just enough to pick it up, and then pressed and held it to my face for a few moments. Then I repeated the process with ice-cold water. That was better.
In a crisis, I knew that my family would take their cues from me. If I came running into the hospital looking stressed and worried, that would set the tone. And that would never do. I opened up my purse and got to work. In less than five minutes I’d put on a light face of makeup, brushed my teeth, and fluffed my short hair into some semblance of style. A few strategic spritzes of body spray and I was ready to go.
When I stepped out, Beau was standing there. Even in dark jeans and an untucked white dress shirt, he managed to look runway ready. He had a leather laptop bag slung over one shoulder and my bright orange carryon over the other. My BlackBerry was clutched in one of his hands; the other one was held out to me. “Let’s move, woman; we only have a few minutes.”
“For what? Did someone call? Is the surgery not going well?” I was alarmed and grasped his hand to head out of the plane.
We flew down the few steps and followed a man carrying our luggage across the tarmac. “So far so good. We’re catching a helicopter over to Emory University Hospital.”
I stopped dead and stared at him. “Who is paying for that? That seems excessive!”
He propelled me forward. “I know a guy who knows a guy. Or would you rather sit in Atlanta traffic while your dad’s in surgery?”
He had a point. I picked up the pace and ran alongside him. “What’s the surgery for? Did they say?”
“It’s bypass surgery. You father had a blockage in one of his arteries. That’s what caused the heart attack.”
“Heart attack? Bypass surgery? Oh my God.” I knew Dalton had said it was serious. I just didn’t allow myself to think about what that really meant.
“They say they think they caught it early. Your sister Loren gave him an aspirin, and he remained conscious the whole time. They say it sounds good.”
“Who is they, and when did you talk to them?”
“The doctors. Eisenberg and Jeffers. I spoke to them while you were sleeping.”
I wanted to ask him who gave him the right. I wanted to say he was being presumptuous, but I knew he was just being helpful. And he was operating on even less sleep that I’d had. I was scared and tired and more than a little bit frazzled. This day just kept getting crazier, and it was still morning. As we rounded a corner, I saw the helicopter and could only shake my head. The pilot was a stocky black man in his late thirties wearing aviator glasses and dressed all in khaki. When he saw Beau, he broke into a huge smile. “Bayou Beau, how you been, son?”
Beau dropped my hand to clap his friend on the shoulder. “You know me, Batiste.”
He nodded. “I see you still arrive with the prettiest woman on your arm. Ms. Richards, I’m Batiste Landry. Let’s get you set up and on your way to see your pére.”
“Thank you.” I flashed a dazed smile and paid attention while he showed me how to buckle in and put on the head set. Beau stowed all the bags and climbed in beside me. He strapped in and we were airborne, just like that. “This is crazy.” As I spoke I realized that the headsets were mic’d and both Beau and Batiste had heard me.
Beau smiled. “Chérie, you’ve been in a helicopter before, no?”
“For a shoot in the French Alps a million years ago, not to run across town.”
Batiste said, “My boy Beau likes to go big or go home.”
“I see that. How do you two know each other?” I wondered.
They exchanged glances and smiles. “We ran around a little bit as boys back in our Breaux Bridge days,” Beau answered. I was positive he was leaving out legions of storied details.
“Breaux Bridge, that’s near Baton Rouge? In Southern Louisiana?”
“About an hour away, yeah. In the Atchafalaya Basin. Saint Martin parish,” Batiste explained.
I don’t know why I asked. All I knew of
Louisiana was New Orleans, really. But I nodded as if that gave me a greater understanding.
“What about you, Mirabella? What part of Georgia did you grow up in?”
“Southern. Almost as south as you can go without hitting Florida. Valdosta.”
“Do you ever get back?” Batiste asked.
I shook my head. “Not very often. My two brothers and two sisters live here in Atlanta and we’ve been trying to get my dad to give up the house and move here, too, now that he’s retired. He spends most of his time up here with them anyway.” My voice faded when I realized I didn’t know if my father would be around, if he was even alive right now at this moment. I grew still. Granted, I rarely saw eye-to-eye with the man, but he was my father and I wasn’t ready for him to be gone.
Beau slipped his hand around mine. “It will be fine, bébé. Breathe.”
Batiste said quietly, “Cette fille est différente. Elle est spéciale. Vous l’aimez, n’est pas?”
Beau took a deep breath. “À ce qu’il paraît, mon ami.” He looked at me with a completely unreadable look in his eyes.
I raised a brow. “What?”
“He said you seem special and he can tell I like you.”
“And you said?”
“So it would seem.”
“Hmm.” I was ill-equipped to dive into that hornets’ nest of emotion right now, but I wasn’t letting go of his hand.
“We’re touching down. Wait for the signal, and then it’s safe to get out.”
It had been less than five minutes. I looked down and saw the huge block letter “H” on the rooftop. We landed smoothly, squarely in the middle. When the rotor blades had slowed a bit, Batiste gave a signal. Beau disentangled himself from the seat and headset and swung the door open. Then he reached in for me. I lifted off the set, unbuckled, and crawled out behind him. Batiste unloaded our things and gave me a hug. “Meet you again on a better day, jolie.”
I nodded and hugged him back. By the time I turned around, Beau had everything gathered up. He handed me my purse and put out a fist toward Batiste. “Merci beaucoup, frère.”
They bumped fists. “No thanks needed. Anytime. If you have a second while you’re here give a call. Kim and kids would love to see you.”
“Will do.” With a final wave, Beau turned toward a door where a woman stood in light green scrubs. We headed in that direction.
“Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery? My name is Misty. I’m a charge nurse in the Cardiac Care unit. Your father is still in surgery, but he’s doing well. Your family is in the east lounge on the third floor waiting for you. One of the doctors will be out shortly to talk to you. Right this way, please.”
As we followed in her wake, I gave Beau a sideways glance. “Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery?”
He smiled. “Sorry about that. I had to tell them we were married so they would give me the information on your dad.”
Suddenly I hit the wall. I was scared and frustrated. I felt out of control and out of the loop. “You know, sugar, you’re kinda taking over things here. I didn’t ask you to do any of this. I’m perfectly capable of handling my family, my father, and these doctors myself. I don’t need you here to handle things or hold my hand. I’m a grown woman!”
He stopped in his tracks and gave me such a look that I instantly felt bad for even bringing it up. “I know that.”
“Then back off,” I snapped, more than a little bit on edge.
“Do you want me to go?” he questioned quietly.
“I didn’t say that,” I muttered under my breath, already feeling chagrined for snapping at him.
“Belle. Do you want me to go?” he asked again, his normal light eyes dark and turbulent. He looked like he was ready to chuck my luggage at me and head back up to the roof. I had no doubt that if I told him to go he would be gone like the wind, no questions asked. I also knew that I couldn’t have gotten here this quickly and drama-free without his help. I felt petty and mean.
“No. I’m sorry. I’m being bitchy.” We started walking again. The nurse was giving us all sorts of curious glances over her shoulder.
“You’re feeling scared. Maybe I overstepped, but I’ll fall back from here on out, okay?” Beau’s tone was conciliatory and light.
I nodded as we climbed into the elevator. “Beau?”
“Yep?” he replied casually.
I leaned up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”
He nodded once. “C’est rien.”
“It’s not ‘nothing’—it’s a lot. Even if I don’t act like it, it means something. So dammit, just give me the patented Beauregard smile and say, ‘You’re welcome.’ ”
He cocked a brow and flashed the classic grin that was his trademark. “You’re welcome.”
The nurse cleared her throat as the elevator opened. “Here we are. The lounge is at the end of the hall to the left. Someone will be in to update you shortly. Ring extension 427 on the house phone if you need something in the meantime.” She fled in the opposite direction.
I almost laughed at the speed with which the nurse disappeared. “I think we scared Misty.”
“Then she scares too easy. Do you want me to wait with you or leave you alone with your family for a while?”
I knew that walking into the lounge with Beau and having him stay with me was a step. A step I really didn’t think I was ready for. But on the other hand, I really wanted him there. And I didn’t have time to analyze that want.
“Your decision,” he offered in that same easy tone.
“Where would you go?”
“I had a car delivered here. I have a room at the Ritz-Carlton in Buckhead. So I’m set. It’s up to you.” He waited patiently for my answer.
“I swear, for someone who pretends to be a lazy playboy, you’re one hell of a detail guy.”
He rolled his eyes. “Mirabella, you’re stalling.”
I was stalling. The fact that he recognized it told me he was getting to know me a little too well. I took a deep breath and offered a response. “Stay.”
12
We Like Him; He Can Stay
Beau—10:03 AM, later that morning
We walked toward the lounge doors, and there was a literal wall of sound coming from inside. I slid a look toward Belle, and she was taking several deep breaths back to back. It was her way of evening out her turbulent emotions.
She glanced over at me as if gauging my readiness for what lay ahead. “You ready for this, playboy? This is not for the faint of heart.”
“You’ve met my family—seen any faint-of-heart tendencies?” The Family Montgomery was easy-going but wildly protective of their own. Not a single one of us was shy or retiring.
“Duly noted. Seriously, you ready?”
“Stop prepping me. Inside already.”
We walked through the swinging doors; all eyes turned toward us and the room fell silent for a heartbeat. Then everyone began talking at once and rushing forward for hugs and kisses. I shifted to the side and set down the luggage, prepared to take it all in.
“Auntie Bella!”
“Thank God, you’re here, Mirabella.”
“Who’s the eye candy?”
“Did you hear about Daddy?”
“You must be Beau.”
“How’d you get here so fast?”
Belle put her hands up. “Everybody calm down and back up two steps. Let’s take it from the top. I caught a private flight. The surgery’s going well; the doctor will be in shortly to update us on status. This is Beau Montgomery. He works with me and is a—”
My brow went up while I watched her search for the word to define an as yet undefined relationship. She slid me a look to see if I wanted to jump in with a helpful word. I just grinned silently.
She huffed, “A friend of mine. Now line it up and I’ll get the introductions out of the way.”
From the way the people in the room fell into a formation, I could tell this was a drill they had done before.
A tall, broad-shoulde
red, caramel-hued brother stepped up and gave me an assessing glance from top to bottom before sticking out his hand. “Dalton. We spoke on the phone.”
“Yes. Pleased to meet you. Belle speaks highly of you.” She actually hadn’t told me a thing about her siblings, but it seemed the thing to say.
“I’m Davis.” A younger male with a less serious air about him walked over and shook my hand. “This is my wife, Anna, and our four-year-old twins, Deidre and Diana.”
I greeted his wife with a smile and knelt down in front of the twin girls. “Now who is the oldest?” They were cute as hell. Big, bright, brown eyes, hair parted in the middle into braids with ribbons on the end. They both looked at me like they weren’t sure what to think.
The one dressed in pink stepped forward and smiled a smile with two front teeth missing. “Me. I’m Deidre, and I’m older than her.”
The one dressed in blue stepped in front of her. “By a whole six minutes. Are you my Auntie Bella’s new man?”
“Diana!” Her mother called out to her.
She looked over her shoulder guiltily. “What, Mama, don’t you wanna know?”
I laughed. “It’s okay, she can ask.”
“So are you?”
“Not yet.”
Then they took turns asking questions. “Are you trying to be?”
“I really am.”
“Are you nice?”
“Most of the time.”
“Are you rich?”
Kids are fearless. “I’m . . . comfortable.”
“You’re pretty.”
I smiled. “So are both of you.”
“Our grandpop is sick.”
“So I heard. I’m sorry, mes douceurs.”
“What language is that?”
“French.”
“What did it mean?”
“My sweets.”
They both turned to their aunt. “We like him, Auntie Bella. He can stay.”
“Thank you, ladies.” I stood up and turned to meet the others.
Belle just sent me a look. “Next up are my sisters, Loren and Tina.”
Pretty Boy Problems Page 8