The Heartbreaker

by Maddie James

  “Kathleen,” Lucki began as she leaned through the window, “does Sam have any time to see me in the next hour or so?”

  Kathleen glanced up. “Hi, Lucki. Well, let's see. .” She looked down at the appointment calendar. “It looks like he might be able to work you in after six, if you want to hang around, or come back.”

  Six. Lucki glanced at her watch. Four-thirty. She blew out a breath. “I don't know, Kathleen. Maybe I'll just wait until—”

  The door behind Kathleen burst open. “Kathleen, I'll see Mrs. Madison now.” A harried Sam lifted his gaze from his handful of manila folders. “Lucki, hi!” He stepped on into the receptionist's area. “Did you need to see me?”

  Lucki thought his demeanor suddenly brightened. “Well, you know, yes. About that.. thing that happened to me the other day?”

  “Oh yes.” Sam glanced to Kathleen. “Do we have any openings?”

  “I just told her, not until after six.”

  Sam lifted his gaze back to Lucki. “That okay with you?”

  Lucki shrugged. “I guess. Either that or maybe I could run over later to your—”

  “No! Uh. .I mean, why don't you come back here at six,” he brusquely interrupted. “I'll wait.”

  Lucki studied Sam, puzzled at the about-face. He looked almost startled. Nervously, he shuffled the papers in his hand as he backed up, bumping into the waiting room door. You'd have thought she was suggesting they have sex right there on Kathleen's desk! With her watching!

  “Mrs. Madison, you may come on back now.” Glancing once more to Lucki, his gaze darting hither and yon, Sam headed without another word toward the hall which held the two examination rooms. What in the world was wrong with him?

  * * * *

  Ninety minutes later Sam blew out a lengthy breath as he handed over the last medical folder for the day to Kathleen. It had been a long, exhausting day. He was going to have to get someone else in here to help him. But that meant expanding the clinic. Another office, more examination rooms, a nurse. It was a lot to think about, but it was going to have to be done sooner or later. He couldn't handle this busy practice by himself for much longer.

  Not if he wanted to have any kind of life outside of the clinic. And Lucki was right, J.J. needed him.

  “Lucki.” He said her name out loud. Damn, but she'd been haunting him day and night for days now.

  “She's supposed to be here any minute.”

  Sam turned and looked at Kathleen's back while she finished up at her desk. “What?”

  “Lucki will be here soon. It's almost six.”

  His eyes closed and all he could see was Lucki bent over his kitchen table with that damned bathing suit on. What little there was of it, anyway. “I'd almost forgotten.”

  “There's her truck now.”

  Sam braced himself. The only reason he didn't want Lucki coming over to his house later tonight was because, in a non-professional setting, he didn't know if he could trust his male libido. He needed a clinical setting. Professional. Antiseptic. Cold.

  He wished he'd jacked up the air-conditioning a few minutes ago.

  He's just have to check her out as quickly as possible and then get her the hell out of his examination room. He'd thought too often over the past two days what the smooth skin of her shapely little behind had felt like under his finger tips.

  The clinic door burst open.

  “Wow, this sure looks a lot calmer that an hour and a half ago.” Lucki's smile lit up the room, and Sam couldn't help but get caught up in it. She always made him laugh, made him feel good. Always had.

  “Yes, and it's been one helluva day. Come on back, Lucki.” He motioned to her and she followed him through the open door back to the examination room.

  He left the door partially ajar. For his own sake, not hers.

  “Why don't you just drop your jeans a bit and let me take a look.”

  Lucki's hands immediately went to her zipper and Sam had to turn away, pretending to write something, anything, on her chart so he wouldn't have the image of Lucki hitching those tight jeans down over her hips haunting him later tonight as well.

  “Okay.”

  Pulling on his doctor's facade, he turned around as Lucki was just bending over the examination table. Standing there a moment, he gulped back a lump in his throat as he caught sight of her rounded buns just above the denim waistband. Shaking himself, he stepped forward and pulled back the bandage to gave her a quick look.

  “Is this sore?” He glanced to her face, trying to avoid her derriere.

  “A little.”

  “It's healing nicely. I'm going to clean it up, put an antibiotic cream on it and change the bandage. Just a minute.”

  He turned back to the table which held some of his supplies and quietly exhaled. He had to get over this. This was Lucki. His childhood friend. Get a grip! This was not some woman he was interested in pawing and getting to know better. It is Lucki! Gathering his wits about him, he turned back to her, willing himself to get through this.

  And you are a professional medical doctor, Sam Kirk. Act like it. In short order, he'd fixed her up again. “The stitches might pull and itch for a few days, but it looks pretty good. You'll be good as new in no time.” He shifted his gaze first right, then left, and tried to keep his breathing even.

  Lucki stood and pulled up her jeans, briskly. “Good. I've got things to do. Do you realize how difficult it is to play with my kids with stitches in my butt? I'm afraid I'm going to rip them out or something.”

  Sam studied her face, relieved that her jeans were all the way on again. “I think you should be careful but it's probably unlikely that that will happen.”

  “I am being careful. It's just damned hard explaining to very active adolescents that you can't play volleyball because you got shot in the buns with a BB gun.”

  Sam started to grin, then thought better of it. He really didn't want to get into any sort of conversation with Lucki about J.J. and the BB gun. Or what led to that particular incident.

  “Are you heading home?” Lucki was watching his face.

  “I've got a little more work to do here, then I will.” He opened the door and waited for her to go through.

  “Do you want me to check on J.J. for you? It's getting late. He's been alone for hours. Sam, you're really going to have to get a handle on this. Twelve-year-old kids can get into an awful lot of trouble left to their own devices for that long a time period.”

  Sam didn't want to get into that conversation, either. It wasn't that he disagreed with her, he just didn't need the constant reminder. Sighing, he said, “I'm trying to handle it, Lucki. I'm going to find someone—”

  A commotion erupted in the waiting room. Kathleen's high-pitched voice was mingled with an angry male's voice. Both Lucki and Sam hurried toward the front of the clinic. A red-faced Lamar Thompson was sparring with an angry Kathleen. “I've told you, he's with a patient,”

  she reiterated. Her nearly two-hundred pound body blocked the doorway. “He'll be out in a minute!”

  “I'm here, Kathleen.” Sam brushed past her and she stepped aside. “Lamar, what's wrong. Is there an emergency?”

  “You're damned tootin' there's an emergency! I'm gonna break a BB gun over somebody's head if I don't get to the bottom of those young hoodlums traipsing around in my backyard shootin' at my birds!”

  Chapter Three

  Lucki raised a hand to her open mouth. Sam's back was to her and she was almost glad she couldn't see his face, couldn't connect with his eyes. It would be damned hard for her not to throw him an I-told-you-so look. Instead, she glanced at Kathleen.

  Kathleen mouthed that she was going home and quickly slipped out the back door. The chicken. She knew to git when the gittin' was good. Lucki, however, felt she might need to stay around, at least for a few minutes.

  “What are you talking about, Lamar?” Sam's hands were perched on his hips; he shifted from one side to the other in agitation.

  “Them damned boys
. That brother of yours and that Jones kid that lives just outta town. What's his name?

  Tater?”

  “Spud,” Sam said quietly, “his name is Spud.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Lucki watched Sam's back as he heaved in a breath and exhaled. “Just tell me, Lamar. What did they do?”

  Lamar huffed out a breath, as well. Lucki didn't know when she'd seen him so animated. Whatever had happened, surely had riled him to the core. His expression was a far cry from the stone-faced statue he was in church.

  “Three of my bird feeders are shot to smithereens!” he began. “Three of them! Them blasted boys shot them until the wood splintered.”

  Sam's shoulders fell. “Lamar, I apologize. You're sure it was J.J.?”

  “I saw 'em, Sam. Both of 'em. Ran 'em out of my garden and through the alley.”

  “I'll pay for the bird feeders. Better yet, I'll make J.J. do it. And he'll put the new ones up for you. If you want, I'll talk to Spud's mother.”

  “I'd appreciate that. But that's not all.”

  If it were possible, Lucki was sure Sam shrank three inches in stature at Lamar's last comment.

  “What else?”

  “They tore my Martin house to shreds as well. It's ruined. But what really has me riled is that I found two dead Purple Martins underneath. They killed them, I guess.”

  Sam's hands dropped to his sides, clenching and unclenching. Lucki wondered if she should stick around.

  “You're sure?”

  “I've got a backyard full of BBs and two dead birds. What would you think?”

  Sam didn't answer. Lucki watched him pace toward the window and look out. It took him several minutes of deep breathing before he responded. “Lamar, I'll handle this. Thank you for coming to me. I assure you restitution will be made for the damages. As for the birds, there's nothing I can do but offer my apology. You'll get the same from by brother as soon as a get hold of him. Now, if you'll excuse me. . ”

  Lamar shook the hand Sam offered, then dipped his head in agreement and left. Sam stared after him for a moment before turning around.

  Lucki's gaze instantly met his. He seemed startled that she was still there.

  “Don't say it,” he warned.

  “I wasn't going to say anything.”

  Sam glanced off and shook his head, his hands perched on his hips again. She didn't know when she'd seen him look so defeated.

  “If you don't mind, Lucki, I need a few minutes.”

  “Fine. I'm leaving.”

  Sam headed toward the back.

  “If you need anything, Sam, I'm just—”

  He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “No, Lucki. This is something I've got to handle myself. And I guess it's high time I do just that.”

  * * * *

  Thirty minutes later Sam pulled into his drive, barely glancing at Lucki sitting on her porch swing next door. Dusk was quickly falling but he was sure she sat there alone. It was rare that Jim and Elaine weren't sitting with her. A quick glance to the garage behind the house told him that the motor home was gone. The Stevenson's must have taken off on another excursion.

  Damn. He'd like to do that about now. Just keep on driving down the road. But he couldn't. J.J. was his obligation and he had to come to terms with that. Finally, he'd sorted out what he needed to do. He hated to admit it, but Lucki was right.

  The boy had been left to his own devices for way too long.

  The screen door slapped hard behind him as he stepped from the front porch into the dark living room, stopping only momentarily to orient himself.

  A shaft of light came from the kitchen in the back of the house, along with the clutter of noise from the small television his mother had always kept on the counter to keep up with her soaps. He rarely watched the thing, he just didn't have the heart to move it.

  Approaching the kitchen from the hallway, he came upon J.J. sitting at the table, shoving a ham sandwich into his mouth, watching the TV screen, and bobbing his head in rhythm to the music coming out of the headphones on his head. Alternately, he washed down the sandwich with a can of soda, then bobbed his head some more. Spanning the room, Sam caught sight of the BB gun propped against the back door frame.

  He quickly crossed the room and picked up the gun. Turning, he caught J.J.'s eye.

  “Take off the headphones.”

  J.J. looked at him, scrunched his eyebrows in question, and bobbed some more. Sam pointed to his head. “The headphones,” he shouted.

  J.J. threw back his head, then snatched them off. “Hey Sam. Want a sandwich?”

  Sam snorted and shook his head. The kid had the audacity to smile at him. Act like everything was normal. Well, it wasn't normal. And he was mad as hell.

  “We need to talk.” Reaching over, Sam switched off the television. He registered the look of annoyance on J.J.'s face.

  “Hey, I was watching that!”

  “Not now, we have something to discuss.”

  “Can't it wait? I was really into that show.”

  “I don't see how, you never heard a word of it.”

  “So what's it to you? I want to watch it.” J.J. stood and reached for the television knob. Sam caught his wrist and looked his little brother square in the eyes. “Not now, J.J. We've got something to discuss. Sit down.”

  J.J. rolled his eyes and sat. Sam propped himself against a stool at the snack bar. Glancing down, he raked his gaze over the gun still in his hands. “I'm taking the BB gun.”

  J.J. shrugged. “Where are you taking it to?”

  “Don't be sarcastic. I'm keeping it for a while.”

  “Why?”

  Sam huffed out a breath and glanced away. “Do we really have to get into the details here? I think you know darned well why I'm taking the gun.”

  J.J. lifted his chin and crossed his arms over his chest. “No, big brother, I have no idea why you're taking the gun. Tell me.”

  Sam couldn't believe his ears. The little runt was goading him. What the hell had happened to him over the past few months? Dammit, Lucki was right! His brother was turning into a miniature, juvenile delinquent with an attitude.

  “Lamar Thompson paid me a visit today.”

  “His rheumatism acting up again?”

  Sam ignored the remark. “Someone shot up most of Lamar's bird feeders today, destroyed them and his Martin house. And killed two Purple Martins.”

  J.J. jumped up, his hands curled into fists. “I didn't kill no birds at Lamar Thompson's.”

  Sam stepped closer. “But you shot up the feeders, didn't you?”

  “I didn't do none of it!”

  The fact that J.J. was lying really ate a hole through Sam. His voice rose. “J.J., I will not tolerate your lying to me! I know you and Spud did it. Lamar saw you. Said he chased you down the alley. Now I don't want you to go denying it, either. You understand me?”

  Before Sam realized it, he'd grasped J.J. on both of his upper arms. The kid jerked away and stepped back.

  “I thought a person was supposed to be innocent until proven guilty in this country. How come you didn't come in here and ask me if I did it? You just assumed I did it, and that's that. Some kind of a brother you are.”

  The brown depth of J.J.'s eyes flashed so much anger that it was difficult for Sam to form the words he wanted to say, but he tried. “J.J., Lamar saw you and here's the gun. You've been out today with it, haven't you? And after Sunday, when you pulled that stunt with Lucki. . ”

  “Aw, hell, Sam! You thought it was as funny as we did. I don't know what you're complaining about, you got to feel her up and everything right here on the table. That's what you wanted, wasn't it?”

  Something prickled at the back of Sam's neck. He stepped forward and grasped J.J.'s arm. He was straining for control—not of the situation, but his anger. “Go upstairs and take a shower. Get ready for bed. I don't want to continue this conversation.”

  J.J. jerked away and glared at him. “Hit a little close to home there, S
ammy boy?”

  “J.J., you better get out of my sight. I'm really angry right now and I don't want to settle this thing in anger. Now go.”

  J.J. laughed. “You don't know a damn thing about being a parent, do you?”

  The comment came from out of the blue. Sam felt a sliver of resentment crawl up his spine. His skin turned clammy. J.J. was exactly right. He'd never wanted to be J.J.'s parent and maybe that was wrong. Suddenly, all his insecurities about raising his little brother over the past year came flying at him. He'd been doing an inadequate job. He guessed it was about time he started setting things right. Swallowing the dry lump in his throat, he peered deep into his little brother's face.

  “Yeah, that's right, J.J. I don't know anything about being a parent, cause that's not what I am. I'm your brother. But at this moment, I'm also you're legal guardian and I'm about to tell you how things are going to be different around here. First, the BB gun stays with me. Second, you're getting a part-time job after school so you can make enough money to buy new bird feeders and a Martin house for Lamar, then you're going to put them up for him. Third, I'm restricting all your privileges as of this moment: no Spud, no TV, no stereo, no telephone, and no outside activities. Indefinitely. From this moment on, you don't move without my permission. If you want a parent, then by God I’ll be one. Do you understand what I'm telling you?”

  The immediate silence that enveloped them both was almost deafening. J.J. simply stared at him, his eyes peering out beneath hooded lids. The expression on his face reminded Sam of one he'd seen on James Dean in an old movie years ago.