Stripped Down

by Lorelei James

  She hip-checked him. “You rocked my world, Wynton Grant. I’m ready for more.”

  A Pitbull song started and she grabbed his hand. “You didn’t think they’d play only country music tonight?”

  “I could hope.”

  Two songs later, Wyn and Melissa were leaving the dance floor when he saw his dad stumble back. Then he clutched the left side of his body and hit the floor. Wyn’s mother, always the picture of calm, screamed and froze in place.

  Wyn raced across the dance floor. That last shot of tequila threatened to come back up when he noticed the ashen tone his father’s face had taken. And the fear in his dad’s eyes sent Wyn’s alarm bells ringing louder.

  “Dad? Can you hear me?”

  He nodded.

  “Stay still. We’ll get you some help.”

  By that time Cres was next to him, as well as Mick, one of the guys Sutton worked with at the gun range.

  Mick said, “I have medical training. Let’s focus on slow and steady breathing until the ambulance arrives.”

  Jim Grant nodded.

  Then Mick glanced at Cres. “Can you deal with your mother please?”

  “Of course.”

  “Stay with me, Jim,” Mick said soothingly.

  Wyn listened while Mick asked basic questions that didn’t require more than a nod or a head shake. He vaguely heard Melissa advising guests to return to their tables because everything was under control.

  It seemed like an hour passed before the EMTs arrived. Wyn pushed to his feet and looked around while medical personnel assessed his father. He sidestepped them and moved to stand beside his mother and Cres.

  “What’s going on?” his mother demanded. “Is it a stroke? A heart attack?”

  “I don’t know. They’ll get him stabilized enough to hand him off to the docs in the emergency room.”

  “How far is the hospital from here?”

  London’s mother, Berlin, stepped into the circle. “About twenty minutes. The staff is top notch. But if the issue is out of their level of expertise, they’ll Life Flight him to Denver.” She slipped her arm around his mom’s shoulder. “Take a deep breath, Sue. We don’t need you passing out too.”

  The EMT interrupted. “Is anyone riding in the ambulance with him?”

  “I am,” Wyn said and took his mother’s hand. “Cres and I have both been drinking so we can’t drive to the hospital. You haven’t. So I’ll need you to drive Cres so we have a vehicle there, okay?”

  She blew out a breath. “Okay.” Then she turned to Berlin. “Could you—”

  “Chuck and I will handle everything here as far as explaining to the guests. No worries.”

  “Thank you.”

  Wyn walked alongside the rolling stretcher, his entire focus on his father. Although he had been drinking, the instant they closed the ambulance doors, he was stone-cold sober.

  As soon as they were through the emergency room doors, the medical team whisked his father off, leaving Wyn to wait for the rest of his family to arrive. He couldn’t fill out anything regarding his dad’s medical history. That helpless feeling he’d experienced riding in the ambulance expanded. He’d watched in near shock as his dad had become completely unresponsive. His skin had turned the same gray color as his hair. And beneath the oxygen mask he wore, Wyn thought his lips looked blue.

  He paced in the waiting room for a good thirty minutes before other family members arrived.

  His mother seemed calmer. The staff immediately took her back beyond the swinging doors, leaving him and Cres alone.

  “How is he?” Cres asked.

  “He was unconscious the entire way here.”

  “They give you any indication of what might’ve happened?”

  “I overheard heart attack when the EMT was on the police scanner.”

  Cres removed his suit jacket, then his bolo tie. He unbuttoned the top two buttons on his white dress shirt and rolled up the sleeves.

  “How was Mom?” Wyn asked.

  “Doin’ that freaky-quiet Mom thing. I suspect Dad’s siblings will show up within the next hour. They caught me on the way out and asked which hospital. I explained we were lucky there was even one this far out. They just don’t get it.”

  Wyn sighed. His dad’s family hadn’t understood why he’d left California and used his inheritance to buy a cattle ranch in rural Colorado. And the times the Grant family had visited their relatives in Santa Ana, they didn’t understand why anyone would choose to live among so many people. But despite their differences, they remained close.

  Several long minutes of silence passed between Wyn and his brother, which wasn’t unusual since they worked together and didn’t yammer on from sunup to sundown. When Wyn glanced at the clock he was surprised to see thirty minutes had gone by.

  The emergency doors opened and a whole mass of people walked in. His uncle Bill and his wife Barbie, his aunt Marie and her husband Roger. Cousin April and her husband Craig. Plus Ramsey, Sutton’s boss from the gun range, Mick, and Melissa.

  Uncle Bill approached first. “Any word?”

  “No. They let Mom go back there as soon as she got here.”

  “That’s good,” Uncle Bill said, absentmindedly patting Wyn’s shoulder.

  “It was great of all of you to come, but you don’t have to stick around. Cres and I can call you with updates.”

  “Nonsense. You boys don’t need to deal with all of this yourselves. We’re here. Besides, the forty years I spent as a nurse will come in handy,” Aunt Marie said.

  “She has a point, Wyn,” Cres said.

  “It’ll likely be another hour at least before you know anything, so maybe we could all do with a cup of coffee to keep us alert.” She signaled to her husband, daughter, and son-in-law to accompany her to the beverage station.

  Ramsey moved in. “I’m assuming you haven’t called the groom on his wedding night and let him know what’s up?”

  Wyn shook his head. “No sense in disturbing him when we don’t know a damn thing about what’s goin’ on.”

  “We’re heading back to the hotel. So if anything changes and you need someone to wake up the bride and groom, just call me and I’ll knock on their door.”

  They exchanged numbers.

  As Ramsey and his head instructor walked away, Wyn caught Cres looking at Mick with regret. He leaned over and murmured, “So much for your post-wedding hookup tonight, huh?”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Is that the kind of guy you go for?” Wyn asked. Since Cres had come out to his family, they’d avoided talking about their sexual conquests. But when Wyn thought back, any talk of hookups had always come from him, not his brother.

  So it shocked the hell out of him when Cres said, “The dude’s a cowboy. A hot cowboy. A hot military cowboy. He knows his way around guns and he knows how to ride.”

  “Point taken. I’d probably wanna tap that if I swung that way.”

  “Christ. I cannot believe we’re havin’ this conversation.” Cres snorted. “Speaking of hookups…”

  Melissa wandered over. And Wyn didn’t pretend he wasn’t checking her out. Her dress wasn’t excessively wrinkled from their smokin’ hot encounter. He smirked, knowing she had a suck mark on the inside of her right breast. His gaze moved up to her lips. Oh, hell yeah. Her mouth was smooth and plump from the insane amount of time they’d spent kissing. When his eyes connected with hers, that spark of desire remained.

  “How are you doing?”

  “As well as can be expected without knowing anything,” Wyn said. “I’m surprised to see you here.” Shit. That’d come out wrong. “I mean—”

  “I know what you meant, Wynton. I had your family members follow me here since I’ve been to this hospital a number of times.”

  “You were okay to drive?” Cres asked. “I swear I saw you knocking them back too.”

  Melissa shook her head. “Sleight of hand. I avoid things that put my judgment into question. Alcohol certainly does that.”


  “Amen, sister.” Cres stood and stepped right in front of him. “I need caffeine. You want a cup of coffee, Wynton?”

  Since Melissa couldn’t see him, Wyn mouthed “fuck off” at the snarky way Cres enunciated his full name. “I’m fine.”

  “Suit yourself.” Cres lumbered off.

  Melissa plopped down beside him. “Did I interrupt something?”

  “Nah. We’re both a little punchy.”

  “I imagine.”

  He braced his forearms on his thighs. “So you weren’t drinking tonight? Or you don’t drink ever?”

  “I did the champagne toast, but that’s it. I drank sparkling water with lime or juice the rest of the night. I’ve learned if you don’t want people to catch on to the fact you’re not drinking, then don’t talk about it and no one notices.”

  “But London said you guys were gonna do tequila shots.”

  “London did a tequila shot. I reminded her that me and tequila were on a permanent break.”

  Wyn smiled. “Gotcha.” His smile dried. “I want you to know I was sober when we locked ourselves in that ready room.”

  “I know or I wouldn’t have gone with you.”

  He reached out and brushed a few stray hairs from her cheek. “You are so freakin’ sexy. I’d planned on takin’ you back to my hotel room tonight—”

  The doors to the back of the hospital opened.

  His grim-faced mother was followed out by a man wearing a white coat and a stethoscope.

  Wyn’s stomach churned. He rose to his feet and Cres was instantly beside him. “Mom? What’s goin’ on?”

  “Dr. Poole will explain.”

  “Bluntly put,” Dr. Poole started, “Mr. Grant suffered a heart attack. To what extent the damage is, we’re not sure yet. I’ve ordered blood tests that measure levels of cardiac enzymes, which indicate heart muscle damage.”

  “Whoa. You can tell that with a blood test?” Cres asked skeptically.

  “Yes. The enzymes normally found inside the cells of the heart are needed for that specific organ. When the heart muscle cells are injured, their contents—including those enzymes—are released into the bloodstream, making it a testable entity.”

  “Thanks for the explanation,” Wyn said. “What else?”

  “After discussing the symptoms with Mrs. Grant, I suspect Mr. Grant’s heart attack started before he hit the dance floor. We know the heart attack was still ongoing when they brought him in here. We immediately medicated him.”

  “But?”

  “But the medicines aren’t working so he’s been sent to the cardiac cath lab.”

  All this medical terminology was making his head hurt. “What’s that?”

  “A cardiac catheter can be used to directly visualize the blocked artery and help us determine which procedure is needed to treat the blockage.”

  “You’re telling us this because you’ve made the determination there is a significant blockage?” Wyn asked.

  Dr. Poole nodded. “Once Mr. Grant has been stabilized, we’ll send him to Denver, via ambulance.”

  “Not medevac’ing him now?

  “No.”

  “That means…it’s not that serious?” Cres asked.

  “Oh, it’s serious. But given that he was brought here immediately, if we observe him overnight, we’ll have a full assessment to give the cardiac team in Denver tomorrow, which will save time.”

  “But by keeping him here and not sending him to a cardiac hospital, you’re not takin’ unnecessary chances with his life? ’Cause I ain’t down with that at all, doc.”

  “Wynton,” his mother softly chastised.

  “I’m with Wyn on this, Mom,” Cres inserted. “If Dad needs to be in Denver, fire up the helicopter and get him there. Pronto.”

  “I understand your concerns,” Dr. Poole said. “And you have every right to question my recommendation. But I spent a decade in the cardiac unit in Salt Lake City, so I am more qualified than your average country doc.”

  That gave Wyn a tiny measure of relief. “Okay.”

  “Any other questions?”

  “Can we see him?” Cres asked.

  “Not right now. We’ll see how the night progresses. It’s up to your mother whether she stays back there with him or out here with you all.”

  Sue Grant lifted her chin. “My husband has suffered a major health trauma. Of course I’m staying with him.” She stepped forward and offered Wyn and Cres each a hug. “As soon as I have any news, I promise I’ll be out here to tell you.”

  Then she and Dr. Poole walked back through the swinging doors.

  Wyn turned around and searched for Aunt Marie. “Did you catch all of that?”

  “Yes. From the sounds of it, Jim will be out for the rest of the night. And since there’s no reason for us all to be exhausted tomorrow, we’ll head back to the hotel. But I promise we’ll be back first thing in the morning.” Her gaze winged between Wyn and Cres. “I don’t suppose I can convince either of you to return to the hotel and get some rest?”

  They both said “no” at the same time.

  “That’s what I thought.” She, too, gave them both a hug. “Any change, you call me.” She pulled a deck of cards out of her purse. “To pass the time.”

  Wyn kissed her cheek. “Thank you. You sure you’re okay to drive?”

  “Sober as a judge, my boy.” Her brown eyes narrowed. “Last question. What about Sutton?”

  “What about him?”

  “He deserves to know his father is in the hospital.”

  “He deserves a wedding night with his wife,” Wyn retorted.

  “So you’re suggesting we don’t tell him that Dad is in the ER and headed for Denver tomorrow, possibly for surgery?” Cres demanded.

  “That’s exactly what I’m sayin’.”

  “But—”

  “End of discussion, Cres.”

  Arguments started—and all seemed to be directed at him. So Wyn tuned them out and wandered over to the window.

  He’d glared at the juniper bushes lining the sidewalk for several minutes when he felt a soft touch on his arm. He saw Melissa’s reflection in the window. “What?”

  “You have to tell Sutton about your dad being in the hospital, Wynton. It’s his decision whether he leaves on his honeymoon tomorrow or stays here, not yours. By not telling him, you’re making it your decision. That’s not fair to him, to you, or to your father. If something unforeseen happens, and Sutton returns home to the worst news imaginable…he’ll blame you for a multitude of things—starting with him not getting to say good-bye. That’s too deep a burden for you to undertake.”

  “Do you have any idea how much this honeymoon means to my brother?” For months, Sutton had planned the four-week getaway in the tropics. Wasn’t out of sight, out of mind better in this instance? Would Sutton even be able to relax and enjoy this special time with London if he was constantly calling home to check on Dad?

  “I’d venture a guess…it doesn’t mean as much to him as your father does.”

  “Jesus, Melissa.”

  “You need someone to be the bad guy and you don’t want it to be you. But by letting Sutton know what happened and giving him the choice of what to do next, you are doing the right thing.”

  “It doesn’t feel that way.”

  “I know.” She swept her hand across his shoulders. “But trust me because I speak from personal experience, not telling Sutton is worse.”

  Wyn turned and looked at her. “This happened to you?”

  “My sister had an accident while I was at camp. And instead of bringing me home, my parents let me finish out the full two weeks. We weren’t allowed to have cell phones, so I didn’t have a clue she almost died until after my dad picked me up. And naturally, my sister thought I wasn’t there because my training camp was more important than her. It was ugly.”

  Before he could ask what kind of accident, Cres strolled up.

  “You done bein’ unreasonable?”

  “Yeah.”<
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  “So you’re in agreement that Sutton needs to be told?”

  “Can we do it early in the morning? And at least give him the rest of this night with London? The doc pretty much told us nothin’ will change tonight anyway.”

  “Makes sense. You cool with Aunt Marie bein’ the one who knocks on the honeymoon suite door at six a.m. and tells him what’s up?”

  “That’d be best. He won’t punch her. And she does have that calming nurse demeanor.”

  Right then, Aunt Marie yelled at the receptionist.

  “On second thought…”

  Cres chuckled. “She seems feistier than usual. I’ll walk them out.” Cres headed to the desk.

  Melissa squeezed Wyn’s arm. “She followed me here, do you want me to lead them back to the hotel?”

  “If you wanna go, that’s fine.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  Wyn studied her. “Why would you want to stay? We just met today. For all you know I could be a total dick.”

  “A total dick usually doesn’t know he’s a total dick, so that argument doesn’t apply. Try again.”

  “Do you want to stay?”

  “Yes.”

  He exhaled. “Good. Because to be honest, I didn’t know how to ask you to stay. This is”—he gestured to the hospital and to her—“screwing with my head.”

  She stood on tiptoe to whisper, “I’d rather be screwing with your body, but since that’s not in the cards…” Then she stepped back and pointed to his hand. “Speaking of cards…playing strip poker would be a great way to kill time.”

  “Strip poker, huh?”

  “Virtual strip poker, beings we’re in public.”

  “How’s that work?”

  “We keep score. The next time we’re alone together, we’ll have a specific order in how we remove our clothes.”

  For the first time in two hours he had a sense of hope about something—it sounded like Melissa didn’t want this thing with them to be a one and done either. “You keep score, baby, and I’ll deal the first hand.”

  Chapter Four

  Mel laid down her cards. “Full house, jacks over sevens.”

  “Damn. I thought I had you this time.” Wynton spread out three twos, a six, and a ten.