Calvin poked his head through the connecting door between her bedroom and his. “Try to get a couple hours of sleep. I sent Patrick a text and he’ll meet us at the hospital in the morning.” Jeremy had taken the room on the other side of hers, and vanished with a murmured good night.
Amber felt too stunned to be polite but she nodded. “Thank you. Good night.” She shut and latched the door.
Despite napping in the helicopter, she was worn to the bone. Too much stress. First that bar fight with the snake, and then learning that Heather had had premature babies — without her. She needed to get into that enormous, elegant bed and try to catch up on her sleep.
Her toothbrush and stuff looked as out of place on the marble counter top of the bathroom as she did in the room. Marble! She peeked into the shower stall. More marble gleamed under pot lights. For sure right now she was too tired to figure out how to operate all those shining jets.
She woke to rapping on the adjoining door. The hotel had left a great fluffy white terry robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. She got out of bed to fetch it, calling, “Just a minute.”
She unlocked her side of the door. Calvin Bascom was looking spruced up and well-rested. She felt foolish talking to a fully dressed man in her bare feet and oversized bathrobe, but she smiled anyway. One of them had been properly brought up. “Good morning. I won’t be but a moment. I just have to get dressed.”
Calvin leaned an arm on the door-jamb. His teeth were very white but his smile made her want to step backwards. “Take your time. We’ll go to breakfast first and then head to the hospital. Pat says to come around eleven. I only knocked on your door because you didn’t answer your phone.”
“Oh. It’s probably still turned off from the flight. I’ll be ready in half an hour.”
“Pat spent the night at the hospital. He says Heather slept most of the night, and the babies have gained two ounces each.”
That was good, wasn’t it? “I’ll take my shower now.” She let the door shut in Calvin’s surprised face. Probably he hadn’t expected their conversation to be over. But she was not used to standing talking to strange men wearing only a bathrobe, no matter how thick it was. And Calvin sure didn’t feel like family to her.
She had missed a call from Jenna. Her cousin who was a midwife* had left an optimistic message. Jenna was at pains to assure her that Heather was perfectly okay. “The girls are a little underweight. Good weights for dates, but the hospital likes babies to be over five pounds before they send them home. Their lungs are well-developed, however, and they are doing well.”
Amber was feeling a little more cheerful when she joined Calvin and Jeremy in the hotel coffee shop. The waitress directed them to the breakfast buffet, but Jeremy and Calvin shook their heads. They didn’t even open their menus, they just rattled off what they wanted.
“I’m going up to the buffet,” she told the waitress.
You would’ve thought she had said something outrageously amusing by those broad grins on both the Bascoms’ faces. But she didn’t care. She had never seen such a spread in all her born days. There were three kinds of melon, and a bunch of other fruit she didn’t recognize, all laid out temptingly on platters that were almost too pretty to touch.
She filled her plate with exotic slices and went back to their table. The coffee had arrived. She would think better after a little caffeine. She couldn’t help but contrast the stiff discomfort of this meal with Calvin and Jeremy with the coziness of that impromptu burrito breakfast she had shared with Lance.
The melon was delicious, and so was the pineapple, but that pretty, white slice with its black speckles, and pink and green frill was tasteless. She was bitterly disappointed, but she hoped she was too mannerly to say so. She chewed and swallowed in silence.
Calvin chuckled. “Dragon fruit is pretty, but it doesn’t have much taste.”
“I’ve never had any before.” She pointed to some deep yellow cubes. “Do you know what that is?” She was not going to pretend to a worldliness she didn’t possess.
“Mango.” Jeremy patted his lips with his linen napkin but she knew he was smiling too. “You’ll like that.”
“It’s delicious.” It was. Sweet and tangy and almost melting.
“Go back up and have something hot,” Jeremy urged her when she had finished her fruit. He and Calvin were still eating their poached eggs on toast. Which wasn’t anything like as fancy as the food they had rejected. Rich people were just a puzzle.
She fully intended to eat her fill. It was way past her normal breakfast time. She stood up and picked up her plate.
“Leave it,” Calvin instructed. “Department of health regulations. You can keep your cutlery, but you may not go back up to the table with a used plate.” That seemed awfully wasteful, but she took a clean plate from the stack.
This time she had the young man in chef whites make her an omelet. She’d never seen anything as clever as his little gas burner, or as dexterous as the way he stirred the eggs around on top of the vegetables he had sautéed for her and then flipped them in the air to brown the other side. It did not, however, taste better than the western omelet from the French Town diner. Go figure.
The waitress came back and refilled their coffee cups. Jeremy relaxed. “I’ve got to make some calls before we go to the hospital,” he said. “Shall we be ready to go at a quarter to eleven?”
“That works for me.” The waitress came over with their bill and Calvin signed.
Heather wasn’t quite finished her coffee, but she stood up with the men. “Are we going to check out?” she asked.
They looked surprised. Calvin spoke. “We probably won’t stay the night, but it will be good to have a base to come back to.”
Everything about these guys was incomprehensible. She didn’t even want to think about how much it had cost to stay one night in this place, let alone dragging it out to a second day. “Thank you for breakfast,” she said pushing her chair back under the table. “It was a treat.”
“You’re welcome.” Jeremy’s smile was patronizing.
Calvin just nodded. She felt patronized by him too. But these Bascoms were her ride to the hospital and to Heather, who needed her.
*Bearcubs for Christmas (In Bear Fursuits Books 1-4 Bundle)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Success, Colorado
Lance~
“Where’s Miss Amber?” Ramirez demanded in high good humor. “I thought the idea was that you were both going to give your statements this morning.”
“Mr. Calvin Bascom took Miss Amber back to Washington State last night. Seems Mrs. Patrick had her babies and wanted her sister.” Lance kept his voice as casual as he could. He didn’t like the way Calvin had scooped Amber right out from under his nose. But there was no point in saying so or giving the folks in Success anything to gossip about.
“Is that so?” There was only polite wonder in the sheriff’s voice. “I hope mother and infants are doing well.”
“I don’t know anything about that. I just know the babies came early and that Mr. Calvin and Mr. Jeremy were going to Washington State in an awful hurry. And they took Amber with them in the helicopter.”
“Miss Amber can make her statement when she gets back.” Ramirez was affable. Of course he was.
The Bascoms were the most important people in Success, Colorado. Hell, in the whole damn county. If they had taken Amber somewhere that prevented her from giving an account to the police, that was fine by Ramirez. Staying on the right side of the Bascoms was only good sense. Besides, it wasn’t as if Amber had done anything wrong. She was the victim.
“I’ll bring her in when she gets back,” Lance promised. If Calvin had not staked a claim by then. There had been something hot and possessive in the way the other man had looked at Amber, although she had not acted like a filly with a Bascom brand on her.
Ramirez took him through the events of the previous night, step-by-step. Ramirez was being thorough, but he wasn’t hostile. The
sheriff had seen both the knife and part of the scuffle. He just wanted to have a nice, clean case to present to the judge. Lance was only too happy to hammer the nails into Blondie’s coffin.
“Fortunately, I saw that knife drop out of the assailant’s hand. If he tries to bring a claim of assault, we can certainly establish that it was necessary force to defend Miss Dupré,” Ramirez assured him.
“He might bring a civil suit,” Lance allowed.
“He wouldn’t get far in this county,” Ramirez said flatly.
Good. That asshole had crossed a line when he pulled a knife on a woman – not just any woman – on sweet, curvy Amber Dupré. Probably the fantasies Lance had been entertaining, would remain just castles in the sky. There wasn’t much reason for a lovely young woman like that to settle for a half-blind horror show like Lance Prescott. He had a mirror. He knew exactly what he looked like now. But a man was entitled to dream.
“I’ll have this typed up. You can sign it when you bring Miss Amber in. How long do you think she’ll be gone?”
“Mr. Calvin told Carlos Diego they’d be back tonight. But there’s no saying that Miss Amber won’t want to stay a little longer with Mrs. Patrick. They’re twins and mighty close from what I understand.”
Ramirez grunted. “Well, if she ain’t back tomorrow, you come in and sign this anyway. There’s enough here for the judge to be willing to keep Mr. Orville Sutton in jail until his trial.” Apparently Orville Sutton was Blondie’s name.
Lance stood up. “No prospect of bail?”
“I expect the judge will set it pretty high.” Ramirez got to his feet too. “Mr. Sutton’s associate didn’t look like the kind of a fella who had the wherewithal to post bond.”
Lance had to admit that Dog had not looked as though he had sufficient money to pay his bar bill. But appearances could be deceptive. No one knew that better than he did. “Let me know if he gets bond. Blondie is the kind of jerk who holds a grudge. And his pal is worse.”
“They better not hold any grudges in my jurisdiction.” Ramirez’s round, pleasant face assumed a severe cast. He looked every inch the hard-nosed lawman he really was. He and Lance shook hands.
CHAPTER SIXEEN
Amber~
Heather looked terrible. Her skin was pasty. Her hair was limp and greasy. There were circles under her eyes. Amber stared at her in shock, almost afraid to enter her sister’s hospital room.
“Amber.” Despite her appearance, Heather’s voice was strong. She struggled to sit up.
“Don’t move,” Amber ordered. She pressed her twin back against the pillows. “How are you doing?”
“I’m exhausted is how I’m doing.”
Amber pulled up the chair and sat on the edge leaning forward. “Patrick said you lost a fair amount of blood.”
“So they say. I was on a saline IV overnight.” She waved a bruised hand at Amber.
“Oh.” Amber swallowed hard. She did not know how to respond.
“I’m okay. Really.”
“Promise?” Amber took Heather’s hand in hers.
“I’m just worn out. They call it labor for a reason. And even though childbirth is not an illness, I had nurses in and out all night keeping me awake.”
“Hospitals are not restful places,” Amber agreed. “I haven’t seen the babies yet. Patrick took Calvin to see them, but I wanted to see you first.”
“They are beautiful,” Heather assured her. “A little small, and the doctors are muttering about jaundice, but as soon as we put a little weight on them, we should be able to take them home.”
“Will I be allowed to hold them?”
“Probably not,” Heather’s voice was sad. “I held them when they were born, and they let me have each of them in turn once last night to try to bring my milk in. But otherwise they are in incubators, hooked up to monitors.”
“Oh.” Amber looked around the room. A vase of red roses occupied the window ledge. The curtains had been opened to reveal a bleak Washington State winter. The lack of sun did nothing for Heather’s complexion. “Can I do anything for you? Would you like coffee or something?”
“No coffee for nursing moms. I could use a drink of water and my jug is empty.”
Amber was delighted to have something useful to do. She filled the jug at the bathroom sink and topped up Heather’s glass.
“Thanks, Sis. I don’t know if it’s being in labor or what, but I am continuously thirsty.” Heather pulled at her hospital gown. “Pat brought my case, but I don’t know what became of it. I packed a pretty nightgown, but they put me in this god-awful gown for the labor, and once I had the IV, they wouldn’t let me take it off.”
Amber opened doors. A little red suitcase stood on the floor. “I could help you change. Do you want a shower?”
“I do.”
Amber fished out a bag of toiletries. “Do you want to brush your teeth?”
“Yup. I didn’t have the energy to even ask for my toothbrush last night.”
It didn’t take long to help Heather shower and put on her own soft blue nightgown and warm slippers. Amber made her sister sit in the chair. “Do you want to dry your hair? Or shall I braid it for you?”
“A braid will be easier.”
Over the years, they had done each other’s hair so often that putting a French braid in Heather’s damp hair took almost no time at all. “Bed.” Amber guided Heather back to the bed and tucked her up.
“I feel better. There is nothing like being clean. Thank you.” Heather relaxed against the pillows that Amber had fluffed up. “Tell me about your big date.”
Amber held out her left foot. “I wore your boots to the dance,” she said. “Lance carried me to his truck both ways.”
Heather’s face set. “They are your boots, Amber. Your Christmas present. Did you have fun? Is he a nice guy?”
“We started by having fun. But Lance had to rescue me from a snake who pulled a knife on me. So, yeah, he’s a good guy.”
“OMG. A for real snake?”
“Yup. These two creepy guys sat at our table while we were dancing — Lance is pretty good and he showed me how to line dance — and we were having a blast until we went back to our table. The snake shifter – he said his name was Blondie – followed me to the restroom. He was waiting for me when I came out. He asked me to dance and when I said no, he grabbed me.”
“I hope you hurt him.”
“Some. I stomped him good with the heel of my boot. He’ll have a bruise on his instep this morning. And I broke his nose. And then Lance stepped in and broke his wrist.” Amber paused. “Lance told me I was doing a fine job, but he had to help because of Blondie’s knife.”
“Uncle Pierre was so right. Trust a snake to pull a knife. What is it with those creepers? I hope you called the cops.”
Uncle Pierre Benoit was the head of their clan and the authority on all things shifter, but Amber was not so sure he knew much about snakes either. There were no snakes on Yakima Ridge.
“One bad snake is not definitive, Heather. The sheriff was in the bar having a drink with his wife. He arrested Blondie. Oh.” It was Amber’s turn to clap her hands over her mouth. “I was supposed to go in to make my statement today.”
“You better call and tell them why you can’t. I guess that put a damper on your evening.”
Amber nodded. “I was a bit rattled, pun intended, so I asked Lance to take me home early. Just as well, as I had left my phone behind and I missed your call as well as Patrick’s.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Calvin~
“They are awful small,” he blurted.
Patrick’s babies were laid out in incubators. Monitors and tubes snaked over their skinny red limbs. Their squashed red faces had almost no noses, and no eyelashes. The blistered skin on their tiny puckered lips was white. Their bulging bellies rose and fell, but otherwise they might have been dolls.
“They’ll grow,” Patrick said calmly. His white shirt was creased and had a coffee stain on th
e breast pocket. His face was covered in black stubble and his hair was sticking up in clumps. If this was what marriage and fatherhood did to a man, Cal wasn’t sure he wanted any part of it.
“Of course they will.” Calvin attempted heartiness.
Patrick laughed. “They do look a tad unfinished. But everyone assures me that they will be fine. They will plump up some and that redness will fade. Hard to believe Heather had all three inside her at once.”
Cal nodded, even though Patrick’s three infants didn’t look large enough to make one good-sized baby. But he was no expert. He avoided the awkward subject of size. “Are they identical?”
“The doctor and midwife said no,” Patrick said. “But you wouldn’t know it to look at them. I can’t tell them apart. And they won’t let me hold them yet. Fortunately, they’re wearing bracelets.”
Until he held them, Pat would not be able to identify his daughters by scent.
“They got names yet?” Cal asked.
“Stella, Hope and Bethany.”
Hope was Patrick’s mother’s name, and Bethany was Calvin’s late sister’s name. “Why Stella?” asked Calvin.
“For Heather’s mom.”
“Nice. Laura plans to name her daughter after our mom,” Calvin told his cousin.
“I know. And the boy after Luther.” Brenda and Bethany Bascom had been killed in a car accident and Cal’s twin Luther had been killed in action. They were all sorely missed.
The babies slept on. Only their bellies moved. Their ashen lips were tightly pursed. “What’s wrong with their mouths?” Cal asked.
“Nothing — so I’m told. Just too much sucking in the womb. We’re putting some grease or something on them twice a day.”
“Hmm. So how is Heather doing?”
“She’s worn out. It was a short, fast labor but she’s still tuckered out. They’re talking about discharging her tomorrow.”
“Babies too?”
Patrick shook his head. “Nope. I figure we’ll spend a few days camped out here until they let us take the girls home.” He looked at his watch. “Amber and Heather will have had their reunion by now. Let’s go join them.”
Bear Fate: A Billionaire Oil Bearons Romance (Bear Fursuits Book 8) Page 5