Catch a Falling Star

by Beth K. Vogt

  Sounded simple enough. “That wouldn’t be a problem at all.”

  “Really? Kendall, thank you so much.”

  She waved off his thanks. “It’s no big deal. I’ll let my receptionist know to expect them.”

  “It may take a few weeks. Just let me know when they arrive and I’ll come over right away and get them out of your way.”

  “Where are you in putting your organization together? I mean, what’s your plan of action, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “I don’t mind you asking at all.” Heath paused as the waiter stopped beside their table with their entrées. She’d convinced him to try one of her favorite dishes—a chicken, melon, and walnut mixture in a sweet sauce—and she hoped to conquer his skepticism.

  “I’m putting together my board now—mostly other medical professionals with overseas experience, but I’ve included a lawyer so that I properly walk through all the red tape. And my Realtor is also looking for an office space—nothing as nice as yours. I’m trying to keep costs down.”

  “I wouldn’t have managed my building, except for an inheritance from my grandmother. I’d invested it for several years—and it paid off well.” Kendall scooped brown rice onto her plate. “And doing the combo home and office means I’m only paying the one mortgage.”

  “If I was a smart man, I’d have you on my board, too.” Heath paused with his chopsticks midway to his mouth. “Wait. I am a smart man. Why don’t you come to the next board meeting?”

  Kendall stared at him over the rim of her glass of Merlot. “Just because I agreed to let you ship a few boxes to my office doesn’t mean you have to invite me to a board meeting, Heath.”

  “That’s not it at all. Look, I know you’re busy with your practice, so I’m not asking for a long-term commitment—yet.” Heath paused to finish off a bit of melon. “But I’d love for you to sit in on the next meeting, get a better understanding of my vision. Tell me what you think. And then, if it’s something you’d be interested in getting involved with, let me know.”

  “I have to admit, that’s an intriguing proposition.”

  “The next meeting is in a couple of weeks. I’ll call you with the time. We’re meeting at the Craftwood Inn over in Manitou.”

  “Ve-ery nice. That’s reason enough to say yes.”

  “Ah, I can see you’re not above being bribed, Dr. Haynes.” Heath’s chuckle disappeared as his face turned serious. “No, really, one of the reasons I would love to have you involved is because your reputation precedes you.”

  “There’s no need for flattery, Heath. I’ve already said yes.”

  “This is not about flattery. You’re well respected in the medical community here, Kendall, by other medical practitioners. And by your patients. That’s admirable.”

  “Thank you. I’ve worked hard to build my practice. I hope it has a good reputation.”

  “One of the best.” He motioned to the entrées sitting in front of them. “This is just as good as you said. Catch up with me before I eat the rest.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t steer you wrong.”

  “Not at all. Lead on, Kendall. I’ll follow you wherever you suggest.”

  Yeah, the guy was a bit on the corny side. But she liked it.

  She sighed when the ping of her iPhone pulled her attention away from the man seated across from her.

  “Excuse me, Heath. I’m on call. I need to get this.”

  “Sure thing. Go ahead.”

  Kendall walked to the front of the restaurant, slipping past the crowd of people waiting to be seated to go outside to better hear the caller. The night air wrapped her in a chilly hug, reminding her how quickly temperatures in Colorado dropped once the sun disappeared behind Pikes Peak.

  “Dr. Haynes, this is Nurses on Call. I have a Griffin Walker asking to speak with you.”

  Kendall paused just outside the restaurant’s entrance. “Griffin Walker? Did he say what the problem was?”

  “Not specifically. He said you were aware of the situation.”

  Odd.

  “Dr. Haynes?”

  “I’m sorry. Go ahead and patch Colonel Walker through.”

  Within seconds, Griffin Walker’s frustration-tinged voice came over the line. “Kendall?”

  “Hello, Griffin. Is Ian all right?”

  “Yes, he’s fine. That’s not why I’m calling.”

  Kendall paced in front of the restaurant, the heels of her shoes clicking on the sidewalk. Why had she left her coat inside?

  “Are you sick?”

  “No, no. I’m fine.” There was a moment’s pause. “Is your offer to help with my Jeep still open?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “My Jeep—you offered to help me work on it.”

  Kendall stopped walking, facing the restaurant. Inside—back where it was warm—sat Heath Parker. And here—outside where it was so cold her teeth were chattering—she stood talking to a man who didn’t even like her.

  “You called the emergency line to talk to me about your Jeep?”

  “I didn’t know how else to reach you. Look, I’ve spent the last four hours fighting with a universal joint. Right now, the universal joint is winning.”

  Kendall tried to contain the laughter that burst past her lips, but she couldn’t.

  “Fine. Laugh at a man when he’s down. I’m desperate. You said you had an arsenal full of tools. You wouldn’t happen to have a disc grinder, would you?”

  “You realize this does not constitute a medical emergency, Griffin.”

  “If you spent the last four hours working on your Jeep with nothing to show for it but some bloody knuckles and a head full of words you’re struggling not to say, you’d be more sympathetic. What happened to your loyalty to another Jeep comrade?”

  She decided not to make the man grovel. Besides, she was freezing. “It just so happens I have a disc grinder. And I’d be happy to bring it over tomorrow. Is that soon enough?”

  “Yes. I concede the battle with the beast tonight.” The man sounded worn down, his voice ragged. “I stripped one of the bolts and now I’ve got to cut it off with a grinder—which I don’t have.”

  “It’s no problem. I think my dad owned every tool ever made.”

  “I’m so frustrated right now, I could almost sell this thing. But hey, it’s—”

  “It’s a Jeep. I know.”

  Their laughter mingled together over the phone.

  “I’m abandoning my garage and getting a shower—and then I’m going to order a Meat Lover’s pizza and watch a movie. Something where we win the war.”

  “Sounds like your best option. I’ll be over around eight tomorrow to rescue you. Sound good?”

  “Make it nine. No need to get up early.”

  “I don’t have a choice about that, Griffin. Sully’s the early riser in the family. G’night.”

  “Good night, Kendall. And thanks.”

  She double-stepped it back into the restaurant, her fitted skirt hindering her attempts to get back inside and thaw off.

  Imagine that. She had a mostly friendly conversation with Griffin Walker. And he asked for her help.

  Huh. Miracles still happened.

  “I should have called you sooner.”

  Griffin looked across the garage to where Kendall sat on the middle step that led back into the house. She wore a pair of scuffed blue cowboy boots, faded jeans, and a long-sleeved red henley top. All in all, the woman looked about sixteen years old—and cute, even with a streak of grease across her chin. As she took a sip of water from the bottle he’d gotten for her, he noticed her hands were also marred with grease.

  At his admission, Kendall raised the water bottle in a mock salute. “True.”

  “Now, was that nice?” He wiped his hands on a piece of old towel, being careful not to displace the Band-Aids on his knuckles, and then tossed it into a white plastic bucket in the corner of the garage near the snow shovel.

  “I just agreed with you.”

 
Griffin walked over to the spare fridge he kept in the garage, searching among the assorted sodas and bottled waters and selecting a Mountain Dew. It wasn’t as if he needed an extra fridge. The one inside the house was never more the one-third full. Milk. Eggs. Bread. Lunch meat. Lettuce and tomatoes that spoiled. Oranges that usually shriveled up. And after Ian’s near-death episode, he stopped buying avocados and bananas. Some days it was easier to skip the produce section of the grocery store altogether.

  He sat on the cement floor in front of Kendall, unable to prevent a groan from slipping out. “Thanks for the help.”

  “It wasn’t me. It was the grinder. And maybe the coffee I brought along.”

  Griffin twisted off the bottle cap, holding the cold bottle up to his forehead. “That, too. But don’t downplay your part. You do know Jeeps.”

  “I thought we settled that on the side of I-25.”

  When she tossed him a wink, he chuckled. “So, didn’t you say your dad and you rebuilt your CJ5?”

  He waited as she took a gulp of water. Swallowed. Stared at the mostly empty wooden tool bench on the opposite wall of the garage.

  “Yeah, yeah, we did.” She tilted the water bottle to her lips again for another long drink. “I spent most of my weekends during high school rebuilding that Jeep with my dad. Good times.”

  Griffin watched Kendall’s profile. He could guess what life had been like for a girl like Kendall Haynes back in high school. Someone who was smart and cute and wasn’t afraid of an engine. He bet her phone rang nonstop. She probably worked on the Jeep during the day, cleaned up, and then went out on dates every Friday and Saturday night. But then she must have decided she wanted a career more than family.

  Just like Tracey.

  Kendall’s soft voice pulled him away from his thoughts.

  “My dad was a mechanic.” Warmth lit the gray of her eyes. “First in the army. Then he opened his own shop. He loved working on cars. Trucks. Jeeps. My mom used to say he would have slept in the shop if she hadn’t called and reminded him to come home every night.”

  As she talked, she tore bits of the label from the water bottle, letting the pieces fall to the cement at her feet.

  “He died when I was eighteen. It was two months before I graduated from high school.” She stared past him, seeming to focus on the red Jeep parked along the curb. “We’d just finished rebuilding the CJ5.”

  She bit her bottom lip, her eyes closed for one second. Two. Three. What was she remembering?

  “He asked me to go get him a glass of water . . . he was, um, thirsty, you know? I didn’t rush. It was such a beautiful day. Sun shining. Breezy. I’d been in the garage since early that morning and I thought, Take your time.” She sniffed. Rubbed the bridge of her nose with her index finger. “I always thought maybe if I had been quicker . . .”

  Griffin kept himself still. He didn’t know what to say, was afraid to interrupt such a fragile memory.

  “When I got back to the garage I couldn’t see my dad . . . he’d fallen down . . . nothing I said, nothing I did helped. I ran back to the house, yelling for my mom. For my brother and sister.” She inhaled a breath that shook her shoulders. “He died while I was in the kitchen getting him a glass of water. I still remember walking across the stage to get my high school diploma. Looking out at the crowd, expecting to see him smiling at me. Cheering me on. Calling me ‘Ken-girl.’ ”

  When she stopped talking, the silence between them grew. What could he say? “Sorry” seemed so . . . useless. The woman shared something personal with him and he sat there like an idiot. What would Doug say?

  Kendall saved him from having to figure out what to do or not do by rising to her feet and tossing the empty water bottle into the blue recycling bin by the stairs.

  “Well. I apologize for that.”

  “No need—”

  She waved off his comment. “Griffin, it’s okay. I can’t help thinking about my dad when I work on a Jeep. Occupational hazard.”

  She held out her hand, offering to help him up. “If there’s one thing my dad taught me, it’s to take care of your tools. Come on, Walker.”

  He clasped her hand and allowed her to pretend to haul him to his feet. Doing so only served to emphasize how much taller he was than Kendall Haynes. Her head only came up to the middle of his chest.

  “Mutt and Jeff.” Kendall tilted her head back and squinted up at him as if he were a long, long way above her.

  “What was that?”

  “We look like Mutt and Jeff. Which is why I never like dating guys a lot taller than me. We look like a cartoon couple.”

  Really? That’s not what he’d been thinking at all.

  Not that he’d ever allow himself to date a career woman like Kendall Haynes.

  Once had been enough. And the first time he was stupid enough to marry the woman.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “You two finished yet, Griffin? I’m ready to go look for cars.”

  Ian Walker hurtled into the garage pulling a black sweatshirt over his head and slamming the door behind him.

  “Did you even shower?” Griffin walked toward his brother as he gave him a once-over, providing Kendall a chance to refocus. Despite her offhanded comment to Griffin Walker, he’d been anything but a cartoon character the last few minutes.

  “Yep.” Ian shook his head in a motion reminiscent of Sully after a bath. Drops of water from his hair dampened Griffin’s face. “Even used soap. Didn’t have time to shave, though.”

  “Right.” Griffin wiped his hand across his jaw. The man had an attractive profile. Rugged. And she was noticing this because . . . ?

  “Hey—” Ian swung a playful punch at his brother.

  “Save it.” Griffin caught Ian in a headlock, reminding Kendall of the times Tanner and her dad used to wrestle in the living room—until her mom yelled at them to stop.

  “So is Dr. Kendall going with us?”

  “I think I’ve monopolized enough of Kendall’s time today.” Griffin half turned toward her again. “She doesn’t want to go car shopping with us.”

  “Didja even ask?”

  Kendall couldn’t resist the urge to tease Griffin. “Yeah. Didja even ask?”

  A smirk twisted Griffin’s full mouth. “What? You want to go look at a Jeep with me and Ian?”

  Did she? It was that, or go back home and pay bills. “Sure. I’ll never turn down the opportunity to go check out a Jeep.”

  Ian whooped as if his favorite NFL team just won a play-off game. Griffin paused mid-stride.

  “Right. Now you’re going to want to go home and ‘freshen up,’ right? Trade in your cowboy boots for another pair of ridiculous high heels—”

  “Hey! What do you have against high heels, Walker?” Kendall surveyed her outfit, dusting off the seat of her pants and straightening the hem of her top. “There, ready to go.”

  “No shower? No freshening up your makeup?”

  “We’re going to look at a Jeep, not meet royalty. I’m fine. What about you?” She inspected Griffin’s outfit of a worn pair of jeans topped with a faded gray flannel shirt that fit his broad shoulders well. Whoever decided flannel shouldn’t be limited to women’s winter pajamas was a wise person, indeed.

  “Let me grab my car keys—”

  “Leave your Big Boy at home, Walker. I’ll drive. Where are we heading? If we’ve got time, I’d like to run by and do a quick check on Sully.”

  Griffin seemed to consider her offer. “Monument Motors just up I-25 north. Heard of it?”

  “Actually, I have. And my house is on the way. My nurse practitioner and his wife bought their last car from there. But I thought they handled Subarus.”

  “Mostly—but they get the odd car or Jeep as trade-ins.” Griffin stood half inside his house, half inside the garage. “Let me go get my wallet and coat.”

  Ian followed Kendall to her Jeep. What was she thinking, hanging out with the Walkers? Whatever it was, this wasn’t about Griffin. She wasn’t attracted to th
e handsome, brooding man with the secretive past—and a teenage brother. That guy had never figured in any of the fairy tales Mina read to her. This was about building a friendship with Ian. She knew all about being a teenager and losing a parent.

  After checking on Sully—and cleaning the grease streaks off her face and hands—they drove through Starbucks and grabbed drinks and finally headed to Monument.

  Griffin surveyed her Jeep. “Not bad for a CJ5.”

  “What do you mean, not bad?” Kendall patted the slate-colored dashboard. “My father and I put a lot of time and effort into this Jeep. He wanted to put on thirty-three-inch wheels, but with the short wheelbase it sounded like the perfect setup for rollovers. So I stick with thirties.”

  “I prefer my CJ7.”

  “The one that keeps leaving you on the side of the road? The one that we just spent the morning working on?”

  “I haven’t been able to keep up with working on my Jeep. Been busy.”

  Ian leaned forward so that half his body was wedged between the two front seats. “Hey, don’t blame your Jeep problems on me.”

  “I didn’t blame it on you, Ian. I was busy before you got here.”

  “Uh-huh.” His brother slumped back, arms crossed over his chest.

  Kendall and Griffin made brief eye contact as Griffin gave a slight shrug. Maybe Kendall could help reestablish a better relationship between the brothers by the time they got to the car dealership.

  “So . . . tell me about this Jeep you’re considering buying.”

  “It’s a Cherokee—an ‘indoor.’ Got some new parts. Decent mileage. I think it would make a good first one for Ian. Of course, he’ll need to drive it, see how he likes it.”

  Silence from the backseat.

  “Sounds good.” Kendall raised her voice, trying to include Ian in the conversation. “Have you looked anywhere else?”

  “Ian and I looked at the want ads. There are some options there, too, but one of the guys at the office said this place is trustworthy.”

  Kendall looked at Ian through the rearview mirror. The teen sat and looked out the window. “So, Ian, you interested in a Jeep?”