Moore To Love

by Faith Andrews

  Humina, humina, humina. My mouth falls open at his sweet words. I’m momentarily speechless. Thank God for head injuries—blame it on the brain.

  Lane and I spend an awkward moment in silence, evaluating each other’s faces as if really seeing each other for the first time. I take note of the barely noticeable curve to his nose and the small scar underneath his right eye. Beautiful imperfections. His five o’clock shadow is scruffier than usual, but it’s sexy and colorful, bits of auburn and deep orange intertwined with the same ashy blonde on top of his head. His eyes are the greenest I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen and taken notice of lots of eyes in my line of work. The deep jade hue doesn’t even compare to that of any I’ve seen on a woman. This man is perfection. And I’m only looking at what’s above the neck. I can only imagine what the rest of the package is like underneath that heather grey, sweat-damp, body-hugging—

  “Madeline Moore?” A man wearing a white lab coat waltzes into my room and steals every ounce of goo-goo goodness out of my moment with Lane.

  Lane snaps out of the haze we were both under and zips out of the chair. He starts to excuse himself, using my full name. “Madeline,” it sounds like honey dripping off his tongue. “I should go. The doctor probably has some—”

  “No!” I blurt out, every molecule in my body urging me to make him stay put. “Please, stay?” It’s a desperate plea. I, myself, recognize the pitiful despair lacing my tone. The doctor arches a brow, indicating he recognizes it, too. And Lane—handsome, caring, fancy-pants-wearing Lane—he narrows his gaze and looks deep into my eyes, letting me know he senses it too.

  In this moment he can either run for the hills to avoid whatever strange twist of fate allowed this to happen or—God willing—he can throw Karaoke Girl a bone.

  Lane tilts his head and I’m certain he’s about to crush my dreams, but when he opens that sexy mouth of his, he says, “Sure. I’d be happy to. I’ll just wait out in the hallway while the doctor updates you. Sound good?”

  “Sounds perfect. I’ll be—uh—obviously I’ll be right here.” Duh, Leni.

  “Yeah. I think you’re stuck here for a bit.” He laughs again, this time focusing on the ground. Would ya look at that? Mr. Fancy Pa—I mean, Lane is nervous!

  I grin brightly and nod in the direction of the door, so as to not put my foot in my mouth the way I usually do when I’m around the opposite, very gorgeous, sex. Lane bows his head in agreement and strides out the door, leaving me to gush like a giddy school girl to the only one left to listen. This poor doctor has no idea what he’s in for.

  AFTER THE DOCTOR DOES A thorough examination and gives me a full report, I give myself a reality check. Yeah right. If I weren’t so nervous I’d scramble my brain further, I’d be jumping up and down and fist-pumping to my heart’s content.

  Unfortunately, according to doctor’s orders, I have to take it easy for at least a week. My injuries earned me an overnight stay at Mount Sinai so they can run a brain scan and make sure there’s no internal bleeding. Good times. It could be worse, though. I could be here alone. Instead, I have a handsome man who came to my rescue waiting out in the hallway for the all clear.

  “All clear,” I yell, praying he’s still out there and wasn’t just pitying me before.

  When Lane appears in the doorway in a pair of green scrubs that compliment his eyes, my heart thumps uncontrollably in my chest. Thank God I’m not hooked up to some heart rate monitor. It’d be a dead giveaway.

  “You changed?” My bottom lip involuntarily winds up trapped between my teeth.

  “I did,” he answers, sauntering back into the room. Sitting at the foot of my bed, he runs his fingers through his unkempt hair. “I was a sweaty mess and, you know, the vomit wasn’t a really good look for me.”

  Oy vey. Why me? Flirting and vomit don’t usually go hand in hand. “I really am sorry about that. I’ll give you the money for a new pair of sneakers and to launder your puke splattered clothes.”

  “Don’t be silly, Madeline. I’m just glad I was there to help. They’ll take good care of you here.”

  “Please, call me Leni, and how would you know? You have an in?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. I’m a geriatrics nurse here.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup. How do you think I scored this awesome get up?” His hand scans the length of his body.

  I’m totally impressed. This man is full of surprises. “I thought you just flashed your prize winning dimples and the scrubs fairy magically appeared.”

  Lane’s head tips back when he laughs, his Adam’s apple vibrating in his thick neck. “What is it about women and men with dimples? I don’t get it.”

  “Well, being you have quite the killer pair, you should be used to it by now.”

  He shakes his head, dismissing my compliment, and then focuses on the bandage over my eye again. “So, you gonna live?”

  I reach to touch the sore spot and flinch. “Looks that way, but I probably won’t be at the track for a while. I was told to take it easy for a bit.”

  It could be the state of my muddled membranes but I swear I see a hint of disappointment dance across Lane’s face.

  “Gonna miss me?” I joke, a boldness overtaking me that I never knew I possessed.

  “Maybe.” With a tilt of his head and a tight smirk, my knees go weak. Thank you bed for keeping me horizontally safe.

  I’ve never been good at the flirting thing, but I’ll be damned if I’m about to end this here and wait for another run in with a tree to get us together. I opt for honesty, rather than blundering with a try at seduction. “Can I ask you something, Lane?”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “How come you never spoke to me before?” I’m not sure I want his answer—or some lame excuse—but it’s too late. Cat’s outta the bag.

  Lane shifts on the bed, looks down, and fingers a loose thread at the hem of his shirt. I’ve learned the art of body language over the years and this is the second time this should-be-cocky-and-confident man has given way to his nerves. “I guess—I don’t know, you were in your zone and I didn’t want to bother you. Besides, you’re kind of intimidating.”

  Yeah, okay. Now it’s my turn to laugh my ass off. The snort that escapes me puts Miss Piggy to shame and gives Lane something to gawk at. “Me? Intimidating? And what, pray tell, is so intimidating about someone like me?”

  His expression turns serious; it’s the first time I’ve seen him frown. “Someone like you?”

  “Yes,” I admit. “I’m not exactly in the same stellar shape as Karen or Jenny and I’ve been described as many things, but intimidating is definitely not one of them.”

  “Well, then call it a first.” I expect him to stop there, but he zones out for a split second and then turns back to face me. “Before today, you didn’t really know anything about me other than that we run on the same track. I’m not sure what impression I gave, but contrary to popular judgment, I’m a quiet guy who keeps to himself a lot. I also don’t know much about you, but from what I’ve seen—you’re a beautiful woman with genuine determination, albeit it clumsy determination, and a really pretty singing voice. My brothers get on my case all the time for being so shy around the ladies, but yeah, everything I’ve just described about you is very intimidating to me.”

  Gulp! Stop the presses. I need to play the lottery because today, my friends, is Madeline Moore’s lucky fucking day. “Wow, Lane. Please forgive me while I pick my chin up off the floor, but, dude, you just made my year.”

  He does that throaty chuckle again and his eyes sparkle with amusement. “Glad to be of service. And speaking of . . .” He reaches in his pocket and takes out his phone, checking the screen. “My shift starts soon. I should get washed up and start my rounds.”

  I can’t help the surge of disappointment that washes over me. I attempt my best sexy-pout and it earns me a playful poke on my leg.

  He rises from the bed and straightens out a few wrinkles in his scrubs. “Tel
l ya what. I’ll come check on you during my break. That is, of course, if you want company?”

  Eager Beaver wants to come out and play, but I know better. Rather than acting like some overzealous geek, I smile, a genuine one that reaches all the way up to my eyes. “I’d like that a lot.”

  “Great. Get some rest and I’ll see you later, then.” He turns to walk out of the room but looks over his shoulder when I call out his name.

  “Lane?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you for everything. The next time I bump into a tree—because, knowing my track record, it will happen again—I hope you’re there to save the day.”

  Lane grins widely, his dimples showing again. “You got it, babe.”

  He exits and sets off to the land of blue-haired biddies and wrinkly old men. I’m left swooning and squirming, oozing with excitement over the last amazing hour of my life.

  “You smack into a tree and the universe applauds you! Way to go, Leni cakes!”

  As soon as Lane was out of earshot, I grabbed my phone to call Tatum. Within fifteen minutes of telling her about my tree mishap, the hospital, and Lane, she’s at my side, feigning good bedside manner.

  “Tay, can you refill my water glass? The pain meds are making me parched.”

  She scowls as she slops water from the tiny plastic hospital carafe, dripping some over my barely covered legs. “Less drinking, more talking. I want to hear everything. Every. Last. Detail.”

  I scarf down the water, practically choking it down because of the way my best friend is eyeing me. When I’m done, she grabs the cup from my hand, slams it down on the swivel table and then rolls it out of the way. “Unparched?”

  “Yeah.” I nod.

  “Speak.”

  For fear of losing a limb, I blabber on about everything that unfolded over the last few hours. I can’t help but smile each time my lips speak his name. Like anything else in my life, however, I vow not to get my hopes up about any of it. Besides, I’ve been avoiding anything with Hudson all this time for the greater good. Me. I need to do me before I can do anyone else.

  “And that’s it in a nutshell,” I finish with a drawn-out sigh.

  Tatum’s eyes flicker with enjoyment; her lips curl with glee. “Well, that’s quite a large nutshell. He totally digs you, you know that right?”

  “I know nothing of the sort.”

  She tsks away my negativity and gets serious. “You said he’s coming back to visit with you when he’s on his break?”

  “Yup.”

  “He stayed with you until you were conscious?”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “He didn’t lose his lunch when you lost yours all over his shoes?”

  “Nope.”

  “And he called you beautiful and intimidating?”

  “Uh huh.”

  Tatum leans over the length of my body and grabs my shoulders, shaking me. “Leni! Wake the fuck up! All this time you’ve been avoiding Mr. Fancy Pants and he’s been pining over you! You, my friend, are on a roll, and I think it’s time you accept it!”

  Pushing her off me, I wince at the wave of dizziness her shaking caused. “Wanna watch it? Head injury here,” I bark.

  “Oops! Sorry. But really, Len. Think about it.”

  She has a point. I have to hand it to her. Ever since Hudson, I’ve been riding this wave of male attention that’s nothing short of fantastic. That being said, I could never allow something so trivial to get to my head. I’m not that person. Never was. And no amount of weight loss will ever make me be.

  “I don’t know,” I muse.

  “What’s not to know? You’ve wanted this for as long as I’ve known you—the attention of a hot guy who actually seems to like you for yourself. Why can’t you embrace it and see where it goes?”

  It seems easy enough. In fact, I’m half convinced it’s time to pull up my Hanes Her Way and be a big girl, but reluctance rules my roost. Uncertainty undulates my utopia. I’m a chicken unwilling to crash land from the coop.

  “We’ll see,” I finally concede, sinking my head into the not-so-plush hospital pillow. “Who do you have to blow for a decent pillow around here? Can you text my mom to bring me a better one? I’ll never get through the night with this.”

  With a disappointed frown, Tatum rises from her seat on the bed and comes over to fluff the lifeless pillow. “I have a feeling that’s not the only reason you won’t be able to sleep comfortably tonight,” she murmurs.

  “What was that?” I should ignore her stubborn persistence, but I’m not one to allow someone else the last word.

  Dancing around the room like a fool, Tatum clutches her heart dramatically. “Oh, Lane! I love your fancy pants. Can I take them off for you?” She smacks her lips and makes kissy noises as she moans and groans his name.

  I snatch the useless pillow from behind my head and fling it at her. “Would you stop? You’re so freaking immature! Enough already!”

  Tatum deflects the pillow and continues tormenting me. “Lane, my hero. You saved me from that big bad tree Now, show me your big bad co—”

  “Knock, knock.” Tatum freezes and me? I’m on fire. I imagine I turn a shade of red that’s not even on the color wheel. “I can come back if I’m interrupting something . . .”

  Okay. I just died. I need to be dead, buried, gone. “Um . . . come on in, Lane.” I accentuate his name and give Tatum a death stare that makes the beautiful palette of colors drain from her perfectly made up face. “My friend here was just leaving.” I have no idea what Lane’s heard, if anything, but the best way to avert the crisis is to avoid it.

  “I was not,” Tatum has the balls to say, her mouth agape.

  “You were, too. Remember? You have to get to the pharmacy before it closes so you can get your wart cream.”

  Tatum turns to face me so only I can see and mouths the word “bitch” while narrowing her eyes. She quickly recovers after taking a deep, take-one-for-the-team breath. “Oh yeah.” She glances at her wrist—she’s not wearing a watch—and straightens out her shirt. “Would ya look at the time. I should head out.” I’m awarded a tiny kiss on my forehead, accompanied by a subtle growl, and then she starts for the door where she meets up with Lane. “I’m Tatum, by the way,” she says, with an up-to-no-good swagger.

  “Lane,” he reciprocates, taking her hand and shaking it. I don’t miss his eyes darting down to where their hands meet. He quickly pulls away from her grip with a nonchalant brush of his palm on the leg of his pants.

  I laugh to myself, content with my revenge. Serves her right, after all.

  With one more glance my way, she sets out to leave. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Lane, and thank you for taking care of my klutzy friend. She owes you a date. Ta ta, for now.” Wench had to get that last jab in, didn’t she?

  She waltzes out the door and on her merry way and the evil witch leaves me alone to explain myself to a very perplexed Lane.

  TURNS OUT I HAVE A pretty thick skull—as I’ve always been told. Even so, I hit it pretty hard and in just the right spot, causing a mild concussion. The doctor discharged me with orders to stay off my feet—no work, no exercising—for a week. I’m not gonna lie; I definitely don’t mind the idea of a break from everything, but this’ll be the first time since I started with Jane and Mandy that I’ll be inactive and I’ll have to rely on eating really strictly to make up for the calories I won’t be burning. And after Mom’s trip to the grocery store for comfort food, that’s gonna be a problem.

  “Ma, really? Are you trying to sabotage me?” I hear the bag of chips crinkling as she removes it from the shopping bag. There’s no mistaking the glorious sound of salt and vinegar Lays.

  “What? They’re reduced fat.” Mom shrugs and stores them in my cupboard, inside the empty hole that was once a well stocked mother lode of goodies.

  “They need to be gone. Out. Take them home with you. I can’t deal with the temptation. I won’t deal with the temptation. Hence the banishment of the chips
.”

  “Geez, Leni. I just wanted to make sure you had all your favorite snacks. Crucify me, why don’t ya!” Her pout could put a five-year-old’s to shame.

  All snacking aside, insulting her wasn’t my plan. She’s only trying to help. “I’m sorry. I know you mean well. I’m just—I’m a little on edge.” More like all kinds of weirded out due to my Lane situation.

  Mom unpacks the last of the food—that’ll wind up going home with her anyway—and comes over to me on the couch. Just like when I was a kid, she brushes the loose strands of hair from my forehead and places a tender kiss there. “Well, then this little rest came at a good time, sweetheart. You’ve been running yourself ragged. You’re allowed to take a break.”

  If only it were that simple. I hate disappointing clients, and I’ve gotten used to my workout routine. If the doctor hadn’t made me so nervous about the after effects of a concussion, I’d tell him to go scratch and continue on with my business as usual. Besides, Lane gave me an earful too. Him I’m okay listening to. His word is gospel.

  Just thinking about Lane and how he sent me off with such care and concern sends a smile creeping to my lips and warm fuzzies up my spine.

  “You’re doing it again.” Mom interrupts my dreamy thoughts with a discerning nudge.

  Damn it. Does this woman miss nothing? “Doing what?” I’m not going there with her. If I thought Tatum was bad, Mom’s inquisition will go down in history, far superseding the one that took place in the medieval times of Spain.

  “You’re in La La Land. Just like you were last night when Daddy and I came to visit, then again this morning when I came to pick you up. And it was the same for most of the car ride home. What gives, Madeline? I’m not stupid. I know when something’s going on.” That she does, but I’ll be damned if I’m about to tell her that something is a guy who has my heart beating at the pace of a marathon sprinter.

  A good actress I am not, but I try my best at sick-patient improv by bringing my hand up to my bandage-covered bump. “You heard the doctor, Ma. He said I could have dizzy spells and migraines for a while. That’s all. My head still hurts.” I throw in a wince and bite my lip for good measure.