“Okay.” Carol had no idea what on earth the woman was talking about. But just lately—especially after that near fiasco outside of Divine last month—Chloe sometimes would seem to be lost in her thoughts.
Who could blame her? From what Carol had heard—received third or fourth hand from Tasha Garwood, the spa’s manager and another of Carol’s new friends—the situation in that farmhouse when Chloe, along with Emily Anne Bancroft and their friend, Lucy Carter, had been held at gunpoint—could very easily have turned tragic.
Just then her attention was snagged by a sight that made Carol nearly sigh out loud in relief. The doors to the firehouse all but exploded open, and the men she’d been waiting for, Warren and Edward Jessop, wasted no time exiting the building and heading toward the spa.
Carol squinted her eyes and thought she saw Amanda Bates standing just inside the doors, arms crossed over her chest, looking none too happy.
“Are you set up for them in the back room?” Chloe sounded all business. Carol pulled her attention away from the approaching men.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“All right, you go on in there and wait. I’m going to give them hot packs and let them cool their heels just a little bit.” Chloe nodded. “They cut it pretty close today, and I can see the reason why, standing right there behind the glass all prettied up like a flower trying to draw a couple of honeybees.”
When Carol didn’t move fast enough, Chloe said, “Honey, trust me, men are clueless, and those two, God bless their hearts, are more clueless than most. I’ll bet you that they have no idea that woman has been making a play for them. Go on now, git. The first rule when dealing with men, is never let men you’re interested in think, even for one moment that you’ve been waiting around for them to show up.”
Carol wanted to argue that she had been waiting around for them. But in the face of Chloe’s determination—and the fact that she was a woman of experience, engaged to be married as she was to two men—Carol bowed to her greater wisdom, and beat a hasty retreat to her treatment room.
* * * *
“I know that Amanda’s test scores and performance reports were among the best of all the candidates that Grant considered,” Edward said. “But I wonder if perhaps the references we reviewed with her name on them were somehow…I don’t know…skewed?”
“I know exactly what you mean. She seems to require a great deal of remedial orientation.” Warren frowned, because the woman had almost made them late for their appointment with Carol.
He and Ed still hadn’t gotten around to asking Carol out for their first date yet. They couldn’t seem to come up with a good, logical, yet appealing plan—nor could they decide on the perfect venue to make the best first impression.
One only had a single chance to make a good first impression and they were completely undecided what the best way to do that could be.
The community center monthly dance was coming up on the weekend—and this morning, before they had arrived at work, they’d debated just asking her to go with them to that.
Today was Tuesday, and the dance was on Saturday. Warren had the strangest feeling that they were running out of time. It was now or never. Do or die. Get the girl or…no, he wasn’t going to finish that thought.
Not getting Carol was simply unacceptable.
Well don’t you think you should do something about that little thing, moron?
Warren shook his head and told his pesky inner voice to shut up. They crossed Main Street and practically ran the last few steps to their destination. “I really thought we were going to be late,” Edward said.
“That makes two of us. But we’re not. We’re just exactly on time.” He took a half of a second to calm himself before he reached for the door handle, pulled it forward and, with his brother, stepped inside the Lusty Glow Day Spa.
Their almost cousin-in-law, Chloe, was sitting at the reception desk, her attention riveted on her computer. It took her a few seconds to look up. For a moment, Warren wondered if she even knew they were there.
After the trauma she’d been through last month in Divine, he had been keeping his eye on her, watching for signs of post-traumatic stress disorder.
That malady could manifest itself after a single, emotionally upsetting incident. He’d already had experience with someone close to him having a bit of a challenge in that regard. He let his gaze slide over to his brother Edward—who thankfully was completely unaware of his scrutiny.
“Oh, hey, Warren, Edward! You’re as punctual as ever,” Chloe gave them a huge smile, and her full attention as she got to her feet and came around her desk. “I want you gentlemen to just take a seat in our Serenity room for a few minutes, please,” she said.
They actually didn’t have much of a choice in the matter as she slipped her arms through theirs and led them in. “Carol is running just a little bit behind this morning. I’ll go get your hot packs. I don’t want her to feel rushed. Especially not today.” Chloe winked at them, and then gave them another huge smile.
Warren opened his mouth to ask what was so special about today, but the woman was gone like a shot.
“What’s so special about today?” Ed asked. “And did she actually wink at us?”
“I have no idea. And yes. Yes, she did.”
Shrugging, and with no other choice, he took one of the big comfortable chairs. Ed sat down in the one beside him, and together, they waited for Chloe’s return.
Warren usually didn’t have a problem waiting, either for people or events. But right then he thought that time had slowed to a ridiculous crawl. He actually began to strum his fingers impatiently against the arm of the chair, something he never did.
“Wow, I’ve never seen the two of you look so tense. You both really need these hot packs today.” Chloe came back into the room and put a heated pack across his shoulders, then repeated the procedure for Edward.
She turned to leave but then stopped, and faced them again.
“Can I ask you something? Just between us? Since, you know, we’re practically family?”
Warren wondered if she wasn’t maybe having problems after all. He tried to slip into his professional persona, the one that came out when he was on a call.
“Of course.”
“Certainly.”
He and Ed had answered at the same time. A look at his brother told him he hadn’t been able to slip into paramedic mode any easier than he himself had.
“When y’all hired those two new EMTs…you checked out their backgrounds, right?”
That certainly wasn’t the question he’d been expecting.
“Their qualifications would have been verified by Jake Kendall before the final candidates were passed on for interview,” Edward said.
“So that would include, like, regular background checks as well? You know, making sure that they aren’t criminals, or such? No axe murderers or thieves or the like?”
Warren met her gaze. Maybe her question was related to possible PTSD symptoms. His professional persona surged to the fore and he relaxed. “Yes, honey. You know that anyone applying to work here in Lusty is checked out by Richardson-Talbot Investigations. That was a change the Town Trust instituted not long after that incident a year or so ago after Tamara fell from the sky, and that drug runner came to town. You weren’t here then, but it had been the latest in a few uncomfortably dicey incidents, and the town decided to act. We take the security of everyone in Lusty very, very seriously.”
“Oh!” Chloe blinked and looked at him as if he’d done something strange. Then she smiled. “Oh, well silly me! I knew that, because my own employees had to pass a background and security check. Okay, whew. Good. I feel so much better now! I was worried, you see. But now I don’t have to be. I don’t have to worry about her, if Carol accepts a date from that hot-looking new guy you hired, Bradley Long.” Chloe gave them both a big smile. “He certainly is a very nice piece of eye candy, if you know what I mean. And I have to tell you, I think it’s karma, I really do! C
arol, of course, is new to Lusty, just like he is. Unattached, just like he is. Don’t you think they’d make a lovely couple?”
“No!” Warren couldn’t prevent his shout, nor the way he jumped to his feet. Carol—their Carol—going on a date with Bradley Long? That was simply not acceptable. “No, I most certainly do not think they would make a lovely couple!”
“But with his dark good looks and her cool blonde beauty—”
Warren didn’t care that he was being rude and cutting Chloe off. “That’s it! That’s…” Words failed him, but actions did not. He felt the hot pack begin to slide from his shoulders and he automatically corrected its position so that it was centered once more. He didn’t ask Chloe, or even wait for her to escort them as they usually did. No longer feeling serene, he just turned and headed out of the room, through the main salon, down the short corridor to the treatment room they’d always used for their manicures. The door stood open, and in that moment, Warren didn’t even care that the building was filled with other women, most of whom were, in one way or another, related to him.
Carol, their Carol, going on a date with Bradley Long?
Over my dead body!
His brother was following close on his heels, and he could feel the bond, the simpatico between them. They shared determination, they shared purpose, they shared…fear.
“Carol Ashwood!”
He reached the door to the treatment room a bare half second after his bellow had. Sweet, beautiful Carol—their Carol—jumped to her feet, her eyes wide.
“You are not going on a date—any date—at any time—with Bradley Long!”
Wide-eyed, Carol said, “Um…okay…”
“Furthermore, you will be attending the dance at the community center on Saturday with us,” Warren said.
“And not only that but when we get there? Your dance card is full, young lady.” Edward nodded to underscore his words.
Carol looked from him to his brother, her eyes still wide, her mouth agape. Warren realized, looking at her, that perhaps they’d come on just a bit too strong.
Her cheeks had turned a lovely pink and her beautiful blue eyes sparkled. He didn’t, thank God, see fear of them on her face at all.
If I didn’t know better I’d swear she was…excited, and pleased.
“All right. Warren. Edward. I’ll go to the dance with you on Saturday, and I won’t dance with anyone else but y’all.”
“Good!” Warren nodded to back up that one word and then exhaled deeply. “And you can just forget about going out with Bradley Long, period. Ed and I only share with each other.”
Warren felt Chloe standing in the hall way behind him but he didn’t dare turn around, in case his almost cousin-in-law decided to toss him and his brother out on their asses. He noticed that Carol looked at her, though, and he waited, holding his breath, to see what would happen next.
Carol nodded once, and he didn’t know if he understood that look in her eyes, or not. And then he didn’t worry, because she gave him one of the sweetest smiles he’d ever seen.
“No sharing with anyone else but you two. Got it. Now, gentlemen, shall we get started with your manicures?”
Warren looked at his brother, and they both took their usual seats at Carol’s manicure table.
He heard the sound of the door closing, and realized Chloe, not having said a word, had closed it. He held out his right hand and felt everything inside him even out when Carol took his hand in hers. Then he met her gaze and smiled. He wasn’t altogether certain what the hell had just come over him, but he thought—just maybe—that whatever it had been, Carol Ashwood had liked it—a lot.
Chapter 2
Ed struggled to awaken from the nightmare, but the vision held him tightly within its grip. For one second he felt his consciousness bubbling up from the depths of sleep, as if he was a swimmer nearing the surface and daylight. Only to be ruthlessly pulled under again. And then he was there.
The sound of their vehicle’s siren echoed inside him, feeling like a fluttering in his belly and a pulsing in his veins. This was what he’d been born to do.
He looked at his brother and saw it on Warren’s face, as well. Ed didn’t speak, because he knew his brother had all his focus on the job of driving.
Ed sat forward, and paid attention to the upcoming crossroad. He quickly looked both ways. “Clear.”
Warren didn’t even slow down, just sped through the intersection. They were nearly at State Highway 84, where they would have to turn left. The accident was about five miles to the west of them.
The accident had been reported by a motorist who’d seen it happen. Ed had a passing thought that cell phones were a real blessing, if just for this alone, for alerting the police and firemen and paramedics faster than had been done in years past.
Then they were on the state highway, speeding, speeding…
Ed fought the dream, semiconscious, and felt himself toss his head and knew he struggled to awaken. Pulled under again, he knew he wouldn’t be able to pull out. He knew he had no choice but to live this nightmare all over again until it was done.
There was a state police cruiser just pulling up from the other direction.
“I’ll grab the rest of the stuff,” Warren said. “You go.”
Ed was out of the van before it had fully come to a stop. There were two cruisers, he noted. Not one. The cop who’d just pulled up stepped onto the roadway to direct traffic. The other was down on his knees in the grass beside the road. He’d already put a blanket around the victim. Ed noticed the motorcycle where it had come to rest beside a tree. The front end looked obliterated, and the tree hadn’t fared all that well, either.
Ed couldn’t seem to get his legs to move, couldn’t get to where he needed to be fast enough.
Then he was kneeling, taking a look at the young man who lay in a bloody, torn up heap where he’d ended up on the side of the road in the grass.
Jesus, he hadn’t even had jeans on. Dressed in T-shirt and shorts, the man—he presumed their patient was a man—had given the road too much flesh to destroy.
Ed shook himself and got to work. Warren was beside him, and they checked for vitals…and found nothing.
“No.”
Ed tried CPR to the best of his ability, started IV fluids, while Warren radioed the closest trauma center, in Waco. Their patient would need the air ambulance, driving just wouldn’t get them there fast enough.
“Son? Stop now. You tried. We all tried. He’s gone. You need to stop. You need to stop, now.”
The voice of the state trooper signaled the last of it, and Ed yanked himself away by sheer force of will.
He sat up, his bare feet hitting the floor in his bedroom, his breathing ragged, his body drenched with sweat.
It had been a couple of months since the last time he’d had the dream. Always, the scenario had threads of the truth, pieces of how it all actually had happened, just enough to torture him.
He scrubbed his hands through his blond hair, feeling the damp of perspiration, and for just a moment, not caring of his own condition.
It hadn’t been a man who’d died that August day years before out on Highway 84. It had been a boy. Joseph Davies, Jr. had been just eighteen years old, and days away from starting college on a full academic scholarship.
Ed inhaled deeply, beating back the incredible sadness that always assailed him after he had this nightmare.
Joey, as his friends—as his father—had called him, had been a straight-A student, captain of the football team, and valedictorian of his high school graduating class. He’d had a brilliant future ahead of him. That future had been cut tragically short.
The accident had been ruled death by misadventure. Joey had been riding his new motorcycle, a gift from his father, way too fast. The husband and wife who’d witnessed the crash had stated that he’d passed them going more than seventy miles an hour.
The husband had told the cops that when he’d seen the boy sail past him, no helmet, no le
athers, he’d shaken his head. He’d even told his wife that the young man was “looking for trouble.”
Trouble, in the form of a gravel spill on the edge of the road, had found him less than a quarter of a mile later.
Joey hadn’t been Ed’s first fatality. He’d just been the first one that Ed couldn’t forget.
He looked at his bedside clock. At five fifteen, it was still a bit early to get up. But Ed knew he couldn’t go back to bed—not stinking of the sweat of his nightmare, and with the sheets soaked, too.
He understood why he’d had the dream now, of course. It was August, and the anniversary of that accident—of one family’s terrible loss—was nearly here. He closed his eyes for a moment to think, and then opened them with a shock when he realized that tomorrow, Saturday, would mark the sixth anniversary of that horrific event.
He dropped his boxers as he walked into the bathroom attached to his bedroom. Not as large as the one that was connected to the master bedroom in their house, this bathroom still had everything he needed on a regular basis—a shower with an overhead waterfall fixture, and a bathtub with Jacuzzi jets.
He turned the shower on full, closed his eyes, and turned his face up, willing the water to wash away the emotional as well as the physical remnants of the dream.
Thinking of the master bathroom got him to thinking of the master bedroom and the Jessop-sized bed standing empty, and waiting.
That, of course, brought his thoughts to Carol Ashwood.
Tomorrow, he and his brother would pick her up for their first date. Ed would be the first one to admit that when it came to affairs of the heart, neither he nor Warren could be considered “smooth operators”. They’d more or less always been awkward in dealing with people—except when they were working, or when their emotions were highly engaged.
He’d seen the look of surprise on Chloe’s face on Tuesday when Warren lost his temper at the thought of Bradley Long asking Carol out for a date. His brother displayed that quality so rarely that many people either didn’t know, or forgot, he had a temper.
Love Under Two Responders [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 2