by Selena Blake
She heard JJ parrot the question.
“Northeast Georgia,” Trevor answered in the background.
“I’ll go see what I can find out. You keep trying your brothers.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”
There was a long pause. “Thank you.”
“I’m heading out now. I’ll call you soon.”
Getting a second wind, she clicked off, grabbed her purse and coat, and then jumped back in the car. It wouldn’t do to let her mind worry and wander to the worst case scenario. But she couldn’t stop wondering what had happened. And why JJ had called her instead of Cindy or Baby.
Maybe JJ hadn’t been able to get a hold of Baby. Maybe Gretchen was, once again, the second choice.
Don’t go there, Gretchen.
There was no use torturing herself, especially while she was zipping up 985 twelve miles per hour over the speed limit. She felt like her little Honda Civic was about to take off and fly the rest of the way there.
After parking, she jogged into the ER entrance and approached the desk. Winded and imagining the worst case scenario, all she could get out was “Greg Fairchild…”
The curly haired blonde looked up from a computer screen. She was straight-out-of-school young. “The hunk.”
She grinned and Gretchen felt a wave of jealousy come over the top of her head. Blonde, although she thought based on the woman’s eyebrows that her hair color was compliments of a bottle, big blue eyes, and a pert little nose. Plus there was a friendly, if not knowing, air about her.
But Gretchen couldn’t fault the other woman’s eyesight. Greg was a hunk so she obviously knew which patient Gretchen was referring to. That gave her heart a moment to calm. He was here.
“Are you family?”
Gretchen glanced from the blonde to the other voice. A tall, painfully thin brunette stared down at a clipboard as if she were performing brain surgery.
Right. There were rules about visitation and such.
The woman lifted her gaze from the clipboard and staked Gretchen with a stare. “I don’t see a sister listed on his chart.”
Sister? Did she look like his sister? She had brown hair and brown eyes, not to mention she was like a foot shorter than him… Oh.
The woman meant Gretchen couldn’t possibly be Greg’s girlfriend. Gretchen gathered all her conviction and lifted her chin. She wasn’t going to be kowtowed by a woman who looked like she’d sucked on a lemon for lunch. Not today.
She put as much authority into her voice as she could and let the lie roll off her tongue. “That’s because I’m his fiancé.”
There was a load of disbelief in the slight twist of the woman’s mouth and the crinkle between her brows.
“I’ll take her,” Blondie said, pushing away from the desk.
“Thank you.” The response was automatic but wooden.
“Don’t worry about her,” Blondie whispered when they were halfway down the hall. “She gets her panties in a twist any time she has competition.”
Gretchen’s bruised ego lifted a bit at the idea that the other woman actually considered her as competition, size sixteen skirt and all. Must be the breasts that men were so fond of and less endowed women longed for. They honestly didn’t realize what a pain in the back big boobs were.
Hands clutching her purse, she followed the nurse through a set of swinging doors and to the left.
“Your man is super lucky. Sad to hear about his friend though. I can understand why he’s brooding. But I bet he’s gorgeous when he smiles. You’ll make him smile again I bet.”
Gretchen didn’t say a word to the chatty nurse, afraid she’d give away the truth. Luckily, a heartbeat later the other woman knocked on an open door.
“Mr. Fairchild, your fiancé is here.”
Gretchen stepped past the nurse, unable to wait a second longer. The man she loved lay in the bed, propped up with several pillows. He turned his head slightly and focused on her. A heartbeat passed and she gently bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying out at the sight of him.
There were small scratches down the right side of his handsome face. A white bandage covered the side of his forehead and his beautiful blue eyes softened with recognition.
“Hello, sweetheart,” he murmured in that heavenly voice, sounding pleased to see her. The corner of his mouth tugged up and she felt her knees go weak for the second time in an hour. Only this time, she knew he was alive, conscious.
And though she knew he was just playing along for the sake of the nurse, his endearment thrilled her.
“See, I told you you’d make him smile again,” Blondie whispered.
“Thank you,” Gretchen said, ready to be alone with him. Ready to get the full story and as soon as she’d determined he was okay, she would throttle him for almost giving her heart failure.
Luckily Blondie took the hint and closed the door on her way out.
Gretchen waited two full seconds, which felt like a lifetime, before turning back and taking in the man who’d stolen her heart. She shouldn’t have given it away but she’d been helpless to stop herself. He made her feel alive and feminine and no one else could make her smile or laugh as easily as him.
“Pale hospital gown is not your color,” she teased as she pulled over a chair. The truth was the man would look good in a trash bag. “I’m sorry I had to lie. I didn’t think they would let me in if I wasn’t family.”
“That’s such BS. You’re family.”
Like a sister, he probably meant.
“It’s not important. How are you feeling?”
“Like I got hit by a truck.”
His blue gaze held hers and her heart stumbled over itself.
“What happened?”
She wanted to touch him, just to make sure he was real and okay. But for the moment, she kept her hands to herself.
He wet his lips. “We got T-boned by a big-ass truck.”
She closed her eyes and tried to block the mental image those words created. She’d seen enough action movies to have a good idea of the carnage a large vehicle could cause.
“The nurse—” She licked her lips. “The nurse said something about your friend?”
He looked away from her and his jaw tightened. The movement was slight, but she saw it.
“I’m sorry…” She gently touched his arm and his gaze snapped to her hand. Startled, she pulled back but he was faster, trapping her fingers beneath his.
“The driver… I didn’t know him very long. Six months maybe. A friend of a friend. The truck just—” The anguish on his face brought tears to her eyes. He was a strong man. He loved his family, worked hard. She’d always thought of him as a man’s man. The kind of guy everyone got along with; who loved sports and the great outdoors, cooking over a fire, and would find one woman to love for the rest of his life. He was tough when he needed to be and incredibly tender too. To see him so…shattered…
She squeezed his hand.
“They told me he didn’t even make it into the ambulance.”
“Oh Greg—” She didn’t know what else to say to that. Words were so inadequate. And she didn’t want to make things worse for him. She’d heard about survivors’ guilt.
Gretchen didn’t know how long they sat there in silence, his hand tight around hers, her heart drumming out a rapid beat. She couldn’t bear to see the agony on his face so she kept her gaze locked on their fingers and hoped that her presence brought him more peace than pain. She longed to hug him close and give him what comfort she could but now wasn’t the time or place. There were so many things she wanted to ask but a knock at the door brought her head around. A silver haired man poked his head through.
“I heard you have company.” Three steps brought him across the room as Gretchen stood. Greg was slow to let her hand go and the truth was, she didn’t want to let him go either.
She swallowed and licked her lips.
“You must be Gre
g’s fiancé. I’m Doctor Sorensen. I was just coming to check on him.”
The man offered Greg a warm smile and Gretchen liked him immediately. A good bedside manner would do wonders for patients; she’d learned that when her grandmother had become ill.
“Please call me Gretchen,” she said and noticed the doctor didn’t extend his hand. Though it was the polite thing to do, it spread germs and she appreciated his care.
“Do you want me to step out?” she asked and glanced down at Greg.
“That’s up to him,” Dr. Sorensen said.
“Stay. After all, we’ll be married soon anyway,” he said, a teasing smile lifting his lips.
Her heart thumped around in her chest like the small silver ball in a pinball machine. If only he meant those words for real…
She had to sit down. What a day.
At least he was smiling and she supposed that was enough of a miracle for today.
The doctor checked stats, asked questions, and listened to, as much as he watched, Greg’s answers. Gretchen tried to look attentive while feeling completely out of place.
He’d been here since last night? Why hadn’t he called JJ sooner? And why hadn’t he mentioned his “slight concussion” to his sister?
“The chest pain is normal after a collision like that. I see nothing to be concerned about there. All of your scans look fine, so I’m no longer worried about the concussion. You’ll want to take it extra easy for a few weeks. Getting out of bed, sitting down on the couch, things like that will be painful for a while. No stairs for a while either. We need the bruising and swelling in your leg healed before you try anything too strenuous. I’d recommend crutches for the next few days as I imagine your knee will be in pain. And other than that, just keep your wounds clean and wrapped and you should be as good as new in a month. Physically, I mean.”
Dr. Sorensen glanced back and forth between them as he spoke. Gretchen liked that he included her in the realm of the conversation since she knew how vital the care giver roll was. Not that she was Greg’s caregiver, but if she had been…
“If you need someone to talk to, professionally, I mean, I can recommend someone.”
“When can I go home?”
“I see no reason to keep you any longer. Let me send for a wheelchair, no arguments please, and I’ll have the nurse give you a prescription for pain killers on your way out.”
Gretchen bit back a smile at the stubborn set of Greg’s jaw. He clearly wanted to walk out of here on his own.
“I’m assuming you’ll be able to help him get back on his feet.” Doctor Sorensen said, glancing her way. It was a statement not a question.
Why wouldn’t she be available to take care of her fiancé? Oh yeah. They weren’t really engaged. The third finger on her left hand was painfully bare and she’d lied her way into Greg Fairchild’s hospital room.
She’d do it again.
“Of course,” she replied. “Any special instructions for me?”
The doctor rattled off a few things and the reality of the situation took hold. She was promising to care for Greg. The man who’d chosen her best friend over her. Heaven help her, could this day get any worse?
CHAPTER TWO
She should have knocked on wood. Gretchen knew better than to tempt fate. Wondering if a day could get any worse just begged karma to give her a swift kick in the gluteus maximus. She’d had Greg strapped in her car for all of fifteen minutes when things started feeling lopsided.
“Flat tire?” he mused from his reclined position in the passenger seat. The nurses must have pumped him full of painkillers before helping him into a pair of navy scrubs. He seemed to be in a better mood then he had been half an hour ago. Come to think of it, he’d only grumbled once about the embarrassment of riding in the wheelchair.
“Must have been the construction outside the hospital.” Luckily they were near an off-ramp. She slowed and navigated the twists and turns until the car flopped its way into a service station. “That and I have the worst luck in history with flat tires. No accidents. No speeding tickets. But seven flat tires in the thirteen years I’ve been driving.”
“You’re a nail magnet.”
For a second she thought he said she was a ‘male magnet.’ The thought was so far off that her lips twitched.
“Evidently. Do you need anything? Cold drink? Snack?” she asked, hand on the door handle.
He looked out the windshield into the fading light and a muscle in his cheek twitched.
“No, thanks. Do you have triple A?”
She could tell by the sudden tension in his torso that it was killing him that he couldn’t leap out of the car and fix the issue. Man’s man.
“They take too long. And remember, I’m an old hat at this.”
His big body seemed more tense now than when she’d eased him down into her passenger seat at the hospital. All the more reason to fix the issue and get back on the road.
In under five minutes she had a fresh tire out of the trunk and the car jacked up. The lug nuts were off the flat and she briefly glanced down at her khaki skirt. She doubted there was a dry cleaner in the land that could fix it after today’s adventure.
A cold breeze shot through her, biting her legs. Jeans. The next time she rescued a handsome prince she’d remember to wear jeans and sneakers.
After hoisting the flat off the axle, she gently dropped it to the pavement.
“Need some help?”
She glanced up at the masculine voice and saw a man in his late forties, maybe early fifties, walking her way. Luckily, the streetlamp provided plenty of light and she could see him clearly. She wasn’t all together sure about what section of Atlanta she was in, but he had kind eyes. And his hands were empty.
“Thanks,” she said as she rolled the new tire forward and lined up the bolts to the holes. “But I’ve got it.”
Who needed a gym when they could have a tire lifting workout, she thought dryly and hoisted the spare. After settling it into place she reached for the lug nuts and hand tightened them.
“I do believe you’ve got it. It’s nice to see a woman who can change a tire. I’d hate to think you’d get stranded somewhere.”
“My granddad wanted me to be able to rely on myself.” Which she did more than she’d like. Sometimes it would be nice to share the burdens of life, even just for the little things like cooking dinner or doing the laundry.
“Smart man.”
She reached for the tire iron and tightened the top nut, then the one directly below it. She kept up the pattern so that she was certain they were all tightened equally. A warped disc was not something she wanted to deal with.
“At least let me get you a towel for your hands,” the man said.
She smiled up at him. “That’d be great. Thanks.” She loved the south and the people here, how helpful and friendly they were. This wasn’t the first person who’d offered her help on one of the now eight occasions of rubber-meeting-pointy-object.
As he strode off to the gas pumps in search of a paper towel, she put the bum tire in the trunk and then retrieved her tire pressure gage and torque wrench.
After letting the jack back down she double checked the number on the wrench and aimed it at the top lug nut.
“Torque wrench huh?”
“Not my first time at the rodeo,” she told the nice stranger. She knew better than to mess with proper tires. Grandfather had stressed that if the nuts weren’t tightened correctly she could lose a tire.
It didn’t take her more than a minute to press the wrench handle down on each nut until she heard the click sound indicating it was just tight enough. Quickly she checked the tire pressure. Good enough.
“I’m impressed,” the man said as she put the jack and tools in the trunk. He held out a thick blue paper towel.
She smiled at him as she wiped her grubby hands.
“Take care,” he said.
“You too.”
Hands moderately clean, she hopped back in the driv
er’s seat.
“Sorry about that.” She put the paper towel in the trash can behind the passenger’s seat and then started the car again.
“What are you apologizing for?” he asked, his tone flat.
So much for his drug induced good mood. She’d never seen brooding Greg. How messed up was it that she found the darkness in him surprisingly sexy?
“For the delay,” she said, steering toward the exit.
She expected him to say something like ‘it’s not your fault,” but instead she heard “you shouldn’t talk to strange men.”
If she hadn’t been concentrating on getting them back on the highway she would have shot him a surprised-and-somewhat-miffed look. “He was just offering to help.”
“He was too chatty.”
She dared a glance then and saw the muscle in his jaw twitching. Was he really that upset about not being able to help change a tire? Or was there something else going on in his mind?
“He was old enough to be my dad, so don’t go there.”
“You think you’re the first younger woman a fifty year old man has hit on?”
He’s just been in a horrific car accident, she thought. He’s doped up on meds. Just let it go.
“You’ll have to give me directions to your place,” she told him, keeping her voice even and upbeat. “Unless you want to go to Baby’s or somewhere else.”
“Why would I want to go to Baby’s?”
She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Did he honestly think she hadn’t seen them at the party?
How was it her younger sister had a husband prospect and Gretchen, at twenty nine, did not. Maybe that was the problem. She wanted a man too much.
“You like Baby. I have eyes in my head, Greg.” She tried to keep those wavering eyes on her side of the car. Better yet, locked on the road and the rear view mirrors.
What she really wanted to say was ‘do you make a habit of leaving parties with women you don’t like?’ And perhaps ‘am I that invisible? I’ve been here the whole time...’
But she didn’t ask those things. Part of her really didn’t want to know the truth.