He took a deep breath. “Yeah, well, things can change.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Really?” Skepticism colored her voice. “In what way? You’ll date them more than once?”
“I’ve seen you a hell of a lot more than once,” Cole snapped.
“There’s that warm and fuzzy feeling.”
“You’re afraid,” he accused. “You’re afraid of allowing yourself to feel. Would he want you doing this? Would he expect you to wear virtual mourning for the rest of your life? Would he want you to use his death as an excuse for not living your life to the fullest? From what I’ve heard about the man, he wouldn’t. Which means you’re doing it to yourself.”
“This from the man who goes out of town for his social life,” she retorted, pulling back from him. He tightened his grip.
“Yeah, I did,” he said honestly. “But the minute I met you, the idea of seeing anyone else went right out of my mind. You don’t think this isn’t scary for me, too? The idea of falling in love is about as scary for me as the prospect of, well, I can’t think of anything that scary just now, but I know it’s out there.”
Bree’s face crumpled in confusion and pain. “No.” She batted at his hands as he again reached for her. “No, don’t talk about love,” she mumbled, clumsily getting to her feet. She rooted around for her shoes and slid her feet in them. “I had love. I don’t need to have it again.”
“And you think I intended to fall in love?” He shot to his feet. “Bree, this hit me fast and hard.” He followed her to the door. “I’m still trying to get it straight in my head. I was the guy who wouldn’t date a woman with kids because we’d be ruled by a baby-sitter’s curfew. I screwed up my marriage because I cared more for my work than I did for my wife. Let me tell you, lady, I’m no longer that guy, and it’s all because of you.”
“They all say that,” she muttered, snatching up her jacket off the table near the door. “I have to go. Let me know when you hear something from the handwriting analyst.”
“Dammit, Bree!” He was hot on her heels. “Talk to me about this!”
She kept shaking her head as she practically ran to her SUV, activating the door locks at the same time.
“Bree!” Cole shouted after her, uncaring if the entire county heard him.
All he received was dust in his face.
He muttered more than a few choice curses as he returned to the house.
“I guess I should be grateful you didn’t use your damn gun on me,” he muttered, pushing the door open.
Bree forced herself to focus on the road. The cop in her knew it wasn’t wise to drive while in this kind of emotional state. The woman in her said to get the hell out of Dodge.
Using Fitz like some shield against his so-called charms, she thought angrily. Hiding behind the kids, my butt. Who the hell does he think he is to make those accusations? He’s the one who doesn’t date a woman more than a couple times, and even then finds them out of town, so he doesn’t have to worry about running into them.
“I’m not hiding behind anyone,” she said out loud. “I just don’t feel the need to make any kind of commitment.”
It’s not every day a man tells you he’s falling in love with you, a sly voice whispered in her ear. Especially when that man knows you have three children. Do you know how many women would kill for someone like him?
“I don’t need a man,” she argued with herself.
I don’t recall you thinking that when you were in the man’s bed and he was rocking your world.
“Someday, I need to get a conscience that agrees with me.”
Without warning, a blinding light bounced off her rearview mirror.
“Take off the high beams, buddy,” she grumbled, reaching up to adjust her mirror to deflect the light. When it didn’t work, she glanced into her sideview mirror and saw the reason why. The truck behind her moved closer. “Sorry, sweetheart, but you’re not my type.” She pressed down on the accelerator. At the same time, her brain registered a distinctive, familiar sound coming from behind.
With the other driver’s headlights on high beam she didn’t have a chance of reading the license plate. It looked like she wouldn’t have a chance of outrunning him, either.
As she increased her speed, she ran through a list of possibilities. In the end, she went for the best chance. She snatched up her microphone and keyed it on.
“Dispatch, this is K-nine-one,” she said crisply, while keeping one eye on her pursuer. “I’ve got a joyrider on my tail. Large pickup, dark color. I think it’s a dually. No way to read the plate. I’m out on Canyon Ridge Road about two miles before I reach Spinning Wheel Road. I wouldn’t mind someone meeting up with me to have a chat with this guy.”
“Got it, K-nine-one,” the night dispatcher replied. “I’ll be sending you a solution.”
“Thanks.” She keyed off.
The moment she dropped the microphone, she felt a jolt go through her body. She gripped the steering wheel to keep the vehicle on a straight path. She’d barely recovered when another jolt sent her bouncing against the seat.
She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination when she saw the familiar flashing lights in the distance.
“Okay, jerk, you are going down,” she muttered, just as the truck rammed into the back of her vehicle so hard she swerved off the road. She relied on memories of defensive driving as she twisted the wheel so she could avoid a tree that suddenly appeared in front of her. The SUV bounced over rocks, sending her thumping painfully against the top of the truck. All she was aware of then was the air bag exploding in her face at the same time the front end collided with something unforgiving. After that, her world turned black.
“Detective. Ma’am. Are you okay?”
Bree moaned as she opened her eyes. For a moment, she was positive stars danced in front of them. She turned her head and moaned again as pain shot through her head. Randy had opened her door and was leaning forward, with one hand braced on the top.
“Please tell me you got the number of that truck,” she said feebly.
“Sorry. When I got here, all I found was you down here,” he said, sounding apologetic. “For a minute I was afraid I’d find you like…”
Like Renee Patterson.
She easily read his meaning. She lifted her hand to her head and brought it back. Dampness stained her fingertips.
“I called for an ambulance,” he told her, putting both hands out when she started to unbuckle her belt. “No, Detective, you need to stay there until the paramedics can check you over.”
She took a quick mental inventory. “Nothing’s broken.” She started to get out, but fell back when her spinning head refused to allow her to go any farther. “Okay, not a good idea.” She closed her eyes as nausea threatened.
The piercing scream of a siren cut through her aching head like a laser.
“How bad does my vehicle look?” she asked.
“Pretty bad,” he told her. “The whole back end is caved in. Must have been a big truck. Not to mention what you did to the front when you hit the tree.”
Bree fought the pain so she could concentrate. “Which means the other guy must have some damage to the front of his truck. Somebody needs to check body shops.”
“Ma’am. Detective. We’ll get on it. Don’t you worry,” he assured her. “But you need to stay still until they check you over.”
She noticed the worried look on his thin features and realized she’d better do what he suggested. It was easy to listen to him, since she felt as if she could throw up without a second’s notice.
By the time paramedics appeared, she almost embraced them.
“How do you feel, Detective?” one of the men asked, shining a penlight in her eyes, then moving it away.
“As if the world is spinning around me at warp speed after a steamroller ran over me.”
He asked her a few more questions as he checked her head wound.
“We’re taking you to the hospital, Detective,” his partner
told her. “What with you losing consciousness and experiencing nausea, you need to be under observation.”
“I don’t need—” The nausea hit her full force the moment they helped her out of the seat.
“My kids,” she said weakly, once they strapped her onto a gurney. “I need to call my kids.”
“Someone can call for you once we get in there,” the paramedic told her.
“I’ll go by your house and tell them, ma’am,” Randy offered.
“No.” She unsuccessfully fought the dizziness. “If they see you drive up, they’ll think the worst.” She felt a soft thump as her bag was set on the gurney beside her.
The next thing Bree remembered was opening her eyes and staring into a pair of puppy dog brown eyes. The stark white of a doctor’s lab coat hurt her own eyes.
“How are you feeling?” the doctor asked.
“Like I ran into a tree,” she said truthfully, trying to sit up.
But the emergency room doctor held her down. “If I were you, I wouldn’t try sitting up just yet,” he advised. “I’m going to order some X rays, but I’d say you have a nasty concussion. Had to stitch up a cut on your forehead and you’ve got a cut lip.”
“My kids,” she moaned. “I’ve got to get home.”
“Sorry, Detective, but you aren’t going anywhere except to a bed upstairs.”
“Calls, I need to make calls,” she babbled.
“One of your people is here. I’m sure they know who to call.”
The next few hours were a blur for Bree as she was wheeled to the X-ray department, then taken to a room, undressed and put into bed.
“Why am I being put to bed when you’re just going to wake me up later to make sure I know what day it is, what my name is and who’s the president of the United States?” she argued.
“Fine, I’ll ask you who the vice president is,” the nurse said cheerfully as she left the room.
“I won’t sleep, anyway,” Bree grumbled even as her lids drooped down.
Squeaky wheel. Definitely a squeaky wheel. There shouldn’t be anything like a squeaky wheel in a hospital. Weren’t there rules about that kind of thing?
“Would you be happier if I found some oil and took care of it?” A familiar male voice rumbled comfortably.
Bree opened one eye. A disheveled Cole sat slumped in the chair by her bed. His face was dark with beard and his eyes were bloodshot, as if he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. She thought back and vaguely remembered the nurse waking her up several times. Bree had thought there was someone else in the room at those times, but she hadn’t realized it was Cole. Or maybe a part of her did know he was there with her and that was why she slept so peacefully.
“What are you doing here?” she croaked, trying to lick her dry lips.
He reached over for her cup of water and handed it to her. She drank thirstily.
“Mamie’s son is the night dispatcher. He told her you were in a car accident on Canyon Ridge Road. She assumed you were leaving my place and thought I should know,” he said. “I stopped by your house first. I’m afraid they’re not taking it well.”
“Of course they wouldn’t take it well. Why should they? They lost their father a year ago.” She combed her fingers through her hair and encountered gauze. She noticed even her fingertips hurt. Then she remembered she’d put her hands up in front of her face to protect it. The air bag must have burned them slightly.
“I heard a truck ran you off the road.” His gaze was troubled.
She started to nod, then decided against it. “It was our old friend. Big truck. There was no missing the distinctive sound in the engine. He decided to cream the back end of my Expedition. Good thing I didn’t have Jinx with me or he’d be in the next bed.”
“Actually, he’d be at the veterinary clinic down the road,” Cole pointed out.
“He’s a cop. He’d be with me.” She mentally checked herself over. “Have they served breakfast yet?”
“Not yet.” He took her hand and brought it up to his mouth. The rasp of his unshaved face was like sandpaper against her skin and all the more welcome. “I’m sorry, Bree.” His breath was warm against her skin. “If I hadn’t picked a fight with you, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“It still would have happened. Just at another time. Maybe a time where I wouldn’t have had backup so quickly. Cole, you were right.”
He leaned forward. “Excuse me?”
She managed a weak smile. “You’re excused.”
“Come on, Fitzpatrick, no jokes.” He kept her hand resting against his mouth. “If anything had happened to you…” His voice trailed off.
“Now you know why I drive a tank.” She rested her free hand on his head, feeling the springy crispness of his hair. For a moment, she thought there were more gray hairs than there had been the night before. “I don’t want to fight with you,” she whispered.
“Good, then we won’t.” His eyes deepened in color.
“And I won’t hide.”
Cole immediately understood her meaning.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she admitted.
“We’ve got to find this truck, Bree,” he said.
“They’ll be checking body shops. Ramming me had to do some serious damage.” She winced.
He was instantly standing over her. “How’s your head?”
“Like Woody Woodpecker is tap-dancing on my forehead,” she replied.
“I better call a nurse. They only let me stay in here as long as I promised to let them know when you woke up.” He leaned down, kissing her gently on the lips. “Damn, Bree, I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you.” He turned around and left the room.
Bree breathed in and out deeply.
What are you going to do now, Bree? The man has pretty much laid his heart on the line. Now it’s up to you.
“Shut up,” she muttered to the nagging voice.
“So you decided to wake up,” the nurse said cheerfully as she entered the room. “How do you feel?”
“Ready to leave.” She waited while her temperature and blood pressure were taken.
“We’ll see what the doctor says.”
“Do I get breakfast?” Bree asked the nurse as she was departing.
“Soon.”
“At least she didn’t use that medical ‘we,”’ she said sarcastically, and plopped back against the pillow.
“You’re one of those cranky patients, aren’t you?” Cole walked back in. He gave an exaggerated sniff. “Um, disinfectant number five. My favorite.” He leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips. “I hate to tell you this, Fitzpatrick, but you look like hell.”
“Thank you so much. Hospitals have never been my favorite place,” she admitted crankily. “Cole, I’ve got to get my kids out of this town,” she said in a low voice. “Deep down, I don’t think this creep would go after them, but what if I’m wrong? I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to them.”
“Is there anyone you can send them to?” he asked, dropping back into the chair and taking her hand, keeping it warmly clasped between his.
Bree nodded. “I can call my sister.” She looked around at the blue-painted walls and the window that overlooked a parking lot. “I’ve spent too much time in hospitals in the past year what with the surgery after I was shot.” Her eyes glistened with tears as she looked at him. “Not that Fitz made it to one. He was pronounced dead at the scene.” Her smile wobbled. “You were right, Cole. I was hiding behind him and the kids. I saw the man I thought I would be spending the rest of my life with shot down. Before I lost consciousness, a part of me knew he was dying. There was no chance for me to say goodbye. No chance for the kids to say goodbye. I didn’t want to experience that pain again. I was afraid if I got too close to you I would leave myself open for that. The best way to make sure it didn’t happen was to wall myself off. Those walls are falling because I want to see what I can have with you.”
Cole leaned forward, bracing hi
s elbows on the side of the bed. He kept her hand between his.
“Does that mean you won’t run out again when I tell you my feelings?”
She started to shake her head and instantly realized it wasn’t a good idea when her world started to tilt. “No more running.”
“I understand someone in here wants to leave our happy place.” A man wearing a white lab coat entered the room.
“Someone very much wants to leave,” Bree said with feeling.
“Better do what she says, Doc,” Cole recommended. “She’s a highly trained law enforcement officer. She can take you down in ten seconds.”
“Not today she can’t,” the doctor said, flashing a warm grin. “I don’t think our detective here could take down a teddy bear.”
“If you’ll sign my release papers right now, I promise not to hurt you,” she told him.
“I’ll look after her,” Cole offered. “I’ll make sure she follows any directions you give.”
Bree breathed a sigh of relief when, after the doctor examined her, he pronounced she could go home as long as she took it easy for the next twenty-four hours.
She wasted no time changing into her clothes. She winced at the bloodstains on her sweater and jeans and the slight smoky smell of her clothing. She knew her first task when she got home would be to take a long hot shower.
“I will be a happy person if I never have to enter a hospital again,” she said, collapsing into the passenger seat of Cole’s truck.
“Anyone from the station try to contact you?” he asked, driving slowly through the parking lot.
“Not that I know of. I’ll have to call in when I get home. They’ll need a statement from me.” She pulled her sunglasses out of her bag and slipped them on. “I also need to call the insurance company about my truck.”
Bree immediately smelled the lemon scent of furniture polish when she entered the house. Bare floors sparkled and a look inside the family room showed all of Cody’s toys had been picked up.
“Are you sure this is my house?”
“Mom!” Cody ran down the hallway and launched himself into her arms.
“Whoa, kid.” Cole scooped him up before he could reach his objective. “Your mom’s kinda sore right now.”
Small-Town Secrets Page 23