by Maddie James
* * * *
For the third time that day, Sam dropped a patient’s folder and sent the contents flying.
“Damnation, Sam!” Kathleen whispered as she pulled him into his office. “What the heck has gotten into you?”
Shaking his head, Sam replied, “Hell if I know, Kathleen.”
But he knew. He knew better than anything.
He was in love.
With Lucki.
And tomorrow, he was going to spend the entire day with her.
“I hear the door.” Kathleen was gone in a flash. Next patient, obviously. Puzzled, Sam stepped out into the hall and scooped up the file contents. He’d thought they were finished for the day.
“But I tell you, Kathleen,” the saccharin sweet voice began, “I do have an appointment. I called last Thursday and you told me to come Monday, at four-fifteen. That’s today, right? And see, I have it written right down here in my little appointment calendar.”
Sam knew that voice anywhere. And he knew sure as tootin’ the person behind that voice was lying through her teeth. He started into the reception area, then thought better of it. Kathleen could handle the likes of Missy Hawkins.
And she did. She quite eloquently explained the procedure of scheduling appointments in an orderly physician’s office and why it was impossible that she, Kathleen Roberts, top of her class in medical secretarial school, had made a mistake.
Missy Hawkins didn’t have an appointment.
Missy Hawkins wanted something.
Groaning, Sam frowned and slipped out the back door.
* * * *
Lucki hadn’t slept a wink. She’d tossed and turned most of the night. Laid awake staring at the ceiling for the remainder. Tomorrow was S-Day. Sam day. She and Sam. Together. For the entire day. Together. Doing crazy stuff like balloon chest passing and such. Together.
Oh, geez. .
And S-Day was here.
Now.
And it was nearly time for them to go.
Why in the hell was her stomach all jittery and nervous? This was Sam, for Pete’s sake! Sam! The boy next door! Her Sam. Her best cotton-pickin’ friend since childhood.
This was ridiculous.
Lucki shook off a feeling of foreboding. Things were going to go fine. She and Sam would have a wonderful time. Just like old times. He promised there would be none of that stupid couple stuff. None of that, let’s be an item stuff that he’d been spouting for the past few days. No. It was just Sam. Sam. Her friend.
Not Sam, The Heartbreaker.
Lucki took a deep breath and glanced out her kitchen window toward his house. Where in the heck was he?
She exhaled. Deep.
Everything was going to be all right.
What was she so worried about? Nothing was going to happen. She and Sam would go, have a wonderful time, maybe even win some of the races, and then they’d go home. End of day. End of story. There was absolutely nothing for her to worry about.
Except—Sam was little late.
Lucki glanced again to the kitchen clock. He was more than a little late. He was a lot late!
Abruptly, the door bell chimed and Lucki jumped. Clutching at her chest to stop her quaking heart, she started for the door. “Geez, Lucki. You’d think you were seventeen again and waiting for your prom date.”
A momentary panic swept over her.
Naw. .
As she laid her hand on the doorknob, she visualized Sam’s smiling face looking back at her. She put on her best smile.
She told herself that history would not repeat itself here. She opened the door.
Reverend Halcomb’s grinning face stared back at her. Reverend Halcomb, dressed in a t-shirt and running shorts and Nikes. Smiling. And reaching out his hand to her.
“Lucinda? How are you this morning?”
Lucki swallowed. No. This wasn’t happening.
“I’m fine, Reverend. What can I do for you?” she squeaked out.
A puzzled look crossed his face. “Do for me? Oh, nothing. Did Sam not call you?”
Sam. Oh, God. Lucki shook her head. “No, Reverend, Sam did not call me.”
He stepped closer. “I’m sure in all the confusion he forget to. But no matter, I’ll explain on the way to the picnic. Are you ready?”
“Ready?”
“Yes, Lucinda. For the picnic.”
Lucki mentally got a grip. No. No. No.
This wasn’t happening.
“The picnic?”
The good Reverend paused before speaking again. “Lucki, Sam couldn’t make it. Was called away on an emergency. I happened to see him, was available this afternoon, and he asked me to take his place. He assured me that you would understand. I know, I’m not the most athletic person in the world, but I’m game and don’t mind making a fool out of myself. Sam said you just needed a partner, really, just a technicality. So, Lucki, I’m your man.”
My man.
But it was the wrong man.
Speechless, she just stood there.
What could she say?
She had no option. She had to go. And at least Reverend Halcomb was a warm body who could be her partner.
But inside, she was fuming. Just fuming.
Who in the hell did Sam Kirk think he was anyway?
“Emergency, huh?” were the first words that popped out of her mouth. She stepped out on the porch and walked briskly toward the steps.
“Why, yes, Lucinda. One of his patients. The Hawkins girl. Some type of an emergency.”
Lucki stopped cold at the edge of the porch.
The next time she saw Sam Kirk, she was going to kill him.
Kill. Him. Dead.
* * * *
“Missy, I’m telling you, you don’t have Malaria.”
“But Sam. .” Missy lifted a weak hand to her mouth and coughed delicately, “I read the symptoms in the medical book, and I know I have Malaria.”
“You read too much. I promise you. You don’t have Malaria.”
Missy thrust herself into a coughing jag. “Well, then it must be Tuberculosis.”
Sam crossed his arms over his chest. What in the hell was wrong with him? When Reverend Halcomb had shown up on his doorstep, urging him to go see Missy, he should have known, right then and there, that this was one of Missy’s ploys to get his attention.
But Reverend Halcomb had looked concerned. Said Missy was in bad shape. And you think you can believe a preacher, right? Of course, Missy could snow a preacher into taking a peek into Hell, if she wanted. She was that persuasive.
“Don’t joke about something like that, Missy. You don’t have Tuberculosis.”
“But how do you know for sure?” She batted both eyelids expertly. God, what had he ever seen in those fake lashes?
“We do tests to know for sure. But, Missy, the odds of you having Tuberculosis are. .well, let’s just say they are mighty slim. You’ve got the flu, I suspect. Your common, ordinary, garden variety flu. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Swine flu? Oh. My. God!”
Oh hell. “No, Missy. You do not have Swine flu. I assure you of that fact.” He doubted she even had the flu at all, had probably heated her thermometer up on a light bulb or something. Missy slunk down deeper into her covers, throwing her arms over her head. “Oh, Sam. .”
He stood. He knew that bedroom look.
“Stop it, Missy.”
“Sam. .could it be Diphtheria?”
Closing his eyes at the absurdity of her question, Sam vigorously shook his head. He leaned closer and looked deliberately into her eyes. “Missy, you don’t have Diphtheria, Malaria, or Tuberculosis. You have the flu.” If that, he thought. He suspected she had more than the garden variety case of sexual deprivation. She wanted it. Bad. And she was willing to stoop pretty low for it. She moaned. “Sam, darling, I really don’t feel so good. Why don’t you crawl in here beside me and keep me warm. I’m shivering all over.”
Bingo! Could he call a kettle black?
Two months ago he wouldn’t have given the invitation a second thought. Two months ago, since leaving Memphis, he was desperate for female companionship. Two months ago, Missy Hawkins looked pretty damned good to him.
But at the present, the sight of her sickened him to the core.
Missy Hawkin’s bed was not where he wanted to be.
If he wanted in anyone’s bed, it was Lucki’s.
Or, better yet, he wanted Lucki in his bed.
Forever.
He took several steps in reverse.
“Missy, drink plenty of fluids, get lots of rest, eat when you feel like it, take something for the fever, and call the office tomorrow for an appointment if you don’t feel better.”
Then he turned tail and exited her bedroom door, a huge sigh of relief escaping his lips.
* * * *
By the time they’d reached the picnic area, Lucki was fuming. Shades of the past infected her thoughts. Damn. How could she have been so stupid? So blind? So naive to think that Sam would be there for her?
All she’d wanted was one afternoon. A date. He’d insisted he be the one. Okay, then she’d agreed. That’s all she’d wanted from him. One afternoon. And now?
And now this? Dumped again? And it wasn’t even a real date?
Obviously, Sam Kirk had a lot to learn about women. No wonder he hadn’t found a wife yet!
But—what should she expect? Sam was Sam. Carefree. Live for the moment. One girl this week, one girl next week.
The Heartbreaker.
Dammit!
Thank God she’d not allowed herself to get too caught up in him this time. Thank God she’d not lost her head and fallen for him again.
That, clearly, would never happen.
Sheesh. .
This, was a total blessing in disguise.
Certainly, there were other fish in the sea. Right?
As she pulled into the parking lot behind the ball fields, Lucki gave the good Reverend a quick glance. He was a nice enough guy. Polite. Clean-shaven. Intelligent. Probably a great catch for some woman some day. But not for her.
The wrong fish.
Then for who, Lucki? Who?
Why after all these years, had there not been a man to attract her attention? One to spark something inside of her and hold on for a long-term relationship? Why, would she not let herself get entangled in a man’s life and make him her own?
An image of a smiling Sam burned itself into her brain.
“Ohmigosh.”
“What Lucinda?”
Lucki quickly jerked her gaze away from the Reverend. “Oh, nothing. Was just thinking out loud. I’ve got a lot of stuff to do before we get started.”
“Oh, I see.” He nodded then exited the truck.
Lucki let her head fall to the steering wheel. Sam’s image was still burned into her mind. She loved him.
All these years, she’d been comparing every man she’d ever met to Sam. She loved him.
And he loved her.
Or so he said.
Chapter Ten
They made it through the three-legged race.
They fumbled through the hard-boiled-egg-on-a-spoon pass.
They slid through the greased pig chase.
And Reverend Halcomb broke his leg in the wheel-barrow race, not two hours into the day. Lucki didn’t know how she had accomplished that feat, but she knew it was her fault. Could she help it if she tripped over a stick and fell over the man, twisting his leg in the process? Could she help it if he was just a tad smaller than her and her Amazon body and long legs just kind of tangled up over him and his leg just snapped?
Geez, maybe he should drink more milk. Maybe he had a Calcium deficiency or something and had brittle bones. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t entirely her fault.
But she felt it was.
That’s why she’d ridden in the ambulance with him to the hospital. That’s why she’d stayed until someone else came to be with him. He’d asked a nurse to call a friend of his, he’d told her, and that it wasn’t necessary for her to hang around. Particularly since she had obligations at the picnic. But Lucki felt it her duty to stay until she knew he was going to be okay, and until someone came from Freedom to take him home.
So, she waited.
It was almost an hour before anyone arrived.
And when the good Reverend’s friend did arrive, and stepped through the double swinging doors of the ER, Lucki just about dropped her jaw.
There stood Missy Hawkins in all her glory. Hair teased. Made up to perfection. Nails polished and shining. Dressed to kill.
Nice way to pick up your preacher from an accident.
Lucki decided she wouldn’t let her thoughts go there.
She stood and approached her, just out of earshot of Reverend Halcomb. “Well, well, Missy. I do believe you look lovely this afternoon.”
Missy smirked. “You may leave now, Lucki. I’m here. I’ll take care of John.”
John? John?
Lucki hadn’t even realized Reverend Halcomb had a first name. Kind of like when you realize your teachers actually go to the bathroom. It was something she’d never considered. John?
“Well, Missy, I’m sure you have plenty of experience taking care of. .Johns.”
Oh, hell. Where in the world did that come from? Lucki braced herself. Missy narrowed her gaze. “Better go mind your own business, Lucki. You might want to take care of what’s at home, yourself, deary.”
Lucki had a sneaking suspicion she knew where this was heading. “At home? Whatever could you mean?”
Missy glanced at her nails. Flicked a piece of lint from her tight sweater. “Oh, well, perhaps I should say, what’s next door then.”
“Get to the point.”
Missy yawned. “Well, honey, after witnessing that kiss in church the other day, I was just sure you were giving Sam all he needed in bed. But then, after this morning, well, I have to wonder.”
No, she wasn’t going there. She wasn’t going to let Missy suck her into questioning what had happened this morning. She wasn’t going to fall into that jealousy trap. She wasn’t.. .
“So what the hell happened this morning, Missy?”
Cocking her head to one side, Missy studied her, then finally replied, “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Lucki but Sam just left my bed. In fact, he’s been with me all morning. I just thought you should know.”
Lucki swallowed every ounce of green-eyed monster jealousy that dared to rear its ugly, gnarled head in her presence. She would not, repeat not fall into this. She knew the kind of woman Missy was. She knew the kind of man Sam was.
Oh, hell. .
Lucki threw the most sickening sweet smile she could muster Missy’s way. “Is that a fact.”
“Oh, yes, dear. That, is a fact.”
“Hmmm. .”
“You don’t believe me?” Missy batted those damn eyes again.
Lucki smirked. “Of course, Missy! I just feel sorry for poor Sam.”
“Sorry?”
“Umhmm. . ”
“Why?”
“Oh, no particular reason, Missy, I just feel sorry for him.”
And then, Lucki turned and left through the swinging doors from whence Missy came. As she headed toward the parking lot, she heard Missy shout from behind her.
“Sorry? Why sorry. .?”
Lucki knew the curiosity would eat Missy alive. Good. She deserved it. And as for Sam, well, by the time she got through with him, he would be less than dog meat.
* * * *
Sam turned into the hospital parking lot just as he saw Lucki exit the emergency room doors. Damn. She looked madder than an old red hen.
When he’d finally made it to the picnic, searched for her with no avail, and then had overheard the conversation about the good Reverend breaking his leg, he’d inquired as to Lucki’s whereabouts. That’s when the pony-tailed blonde called Pinky, who was wearing an obnoxious chartreuse tank top, told him she’d accompanied Reverend Halcomb to the hosp
ital.
She’d also asked if he would be so kind as to fetch her, if the good Reverend were okay. He’d kindly obliged.
He couldn’t wait to see her. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he had to convince Lucki of his love. Observing the fakeness of Missy Hawkins this morning led him straight to the conclusion he’d been seeking. Lucki was the real thing. Had been the real thing. Always was the real thing. And he wanted the real thing for himself.
He slowed and pulled up next to her. There was a scowl on her face. No matter. Soon he’d put a smile there.
He powered down the window.
Then leaned over toward the passenger side and flipped upon the door.
“Hi Lucki! Boy, that was timing. Get in and I’ll take you back to the picnic.”
She quickly slid inside. Then slammed the car door.
A distinct frown was settled on her face. She sat stone still, staring straight ahead.
“Take me to my truck.”
Sam stared at her. Uh-oh.
“But aren’t you going back to the picnic? Pinky says they need you.”
“They can manage just fine without me. Take me to my truck.”
Sam tried not to panic at the cold tone of her voice. “Lucki? How is Reverend Halcomb?”
“Fine.”
Sam eased his foot on the accelerator and started out of the parking lot. “Bad break?”
“Bad enough.”
“Will he be okay?”
“He’ll survive.”
“Did anyone come for him?”
She glared at him.
Oh, boy. Things weren’t going well here.
Sam concentrated on turning back onto the highway and heading toward the park. The icy atmosphere inside his car took a downward plunge. Oh, hell, what had he done now?
“Reverend Halcomb is just fine, Sam. The break will heal in time. Yes, someone came for him. Someone, I might add, who you know very well. Someone, with whom you spent some time recently, I understand. Someone, with whom you spent an intimate morning. Someone, who caused you to break our date. And for that, I will never forgive you.”
She said it so coolly, so nonchalantly, it gave him just cause for concern. Sam swallowed down the panic that rushed up his throat, braked harshly, then pulled off the road into the nearest parking lot. He killed the engine.