by Marie Force
Grant seemed to falter as they reached the clinic parking lot. Stephanie knew the last thing in the world he wanted was to rely on his ex-girlfriend’s new fiancé to stitch him up, but since Dr. Cal was the only game in town—other than Doc Potter, the vet—Grant had little choice.
“Just go in, get the stitches and keep your mouth shut,” Stephanie said.
“What else would I do?”
She sent him a withering look. “Remember when I told you not to get into it with Abby when your father was in the hospital? Did you listen to me then? No. You had to get all hot and bothered with her and show her how insanely jealous you are that she’s with someone else now.”
That made him mad, as she’d known it would. She couldn’t say, exactly, why pushing his buttons was so much fun. It just was.
“What the hell would you have me do? Let the love of my life walk away without a fight?”
Stephanie swallowed her own burst of unreasonable jealousy and fought to keep her voice calm and rational. One of them had to be. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe you haven’t met the love of your life yet?”
That stopped him in his tracks, and he spun around to face her. As luck would have it, anger only made him more attractive. Life wasn’t fair. “You have a lot of nerve saying that. You don’t even know me.”
He was absolutely right, of course. She told herself to shut up and mind her own business. But before her mouth could get the message from her brain, she was already talking again. “You spent ten years with her, lived with her for what? Five years and never married her. What does that tell you?”
“I don’t need you to tell me I’m an idiot. I already know that.”
The wind whipped around them, but she couldn’t bring herself to walk away from him. “I never said you were an idiot.”
“Whatever. How do you even know all that?”
Cornered, Stephanie looked down at the wet blacktop. “I heard your sister and Maddie talking about it.”
“Great, so they think I’m an idiot, too, I suppose.”
“The word ‘idiot’ was never used.”
“I forgot how much I hate it here,” he muttered. “Everyone up in my grill, minding my business for me.”
“Oh yeah, poor you with the lovely parents and the gorgeous home and the successful businesses, not to mention the brothers and sister and friends who’d do anything for you. It must really suck to be you.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to take them back. They were talking about him, and she’d shown him a little too much about her.
“Stephanie, listen, I didn’t mean—”
She held up a hand to stop him. The very last thing she wanted from him—or anyone—was pity. “Forget it. Feel free to mope around after Abby. In fact, if you’re so all-fired determined to get her back, let me help you. It’s painful watching you do it your way. You went beyond clueless about two weeks ago.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“For one thing, you have to stop looking at her with those sad hound-dog eyes. It’s nauseating to watch, and she doesn’t even notice.”
“I have not been doing that!”
“Oh please, here’s you at the wedding.” She imitated his pathetic expression.
“If I ever look that ridiculous, please shoot me.”
“Where can I get a gun around here?”
“You’re seriously starting to irritate me.”
She suspected she’d been irritating him since the second he woke up and realized she was in bed—naked—next to him. And yes, she’d known he was awake the whole time she was sneaking out of Janey’s bedroom. “You ought to see the way you look at Cal, like you want to gut him and feed him to sharks.” Furrowing her brows, she attempted to mirror his I-hate-Cal face. She wasn’t sure she could do it justice, but she gave it a hell of an effort.
He shook his head. “You’re full of shit.”
“He hasn’t done anything to you.”
“He stole her from me!”
“Jesus Christ, Grant. Are you stuck in middle school? She’s thirty-something years old. She wasn’t stolen. She chose him.”
“Only because he was here and I wasn’t.”
“If that’s what you think, the situation is worse than I thought.” Stephanie paused, choosing her words carefully. While she wanted to help him extract his head from his ass, she wasn’t looking to purposely hurt him. “You’ve been back a month now, and she hasn’t changed her mind. At what point do you have to accept that she isn’t going to?”
Apparently, he had no good answer to that. At the main door to the clinic, he stopped and turned to her. “Thanks for getting me here,” he said tersely. “I can handle the rest.”
“I’m not leaving until you’re stitched up.”
“I don’t need to be babysat.”
“On that we disagree.”
“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”
“It seems I’ve heard that somewhere before.” She pushed past him, activating the clinic’s automatic double doors. As they stepped inside, Abby came rushing down the hallway. Fabulous.
“What’s wrong?” Grant asked her. All his anger toward Stephanie morphed into concern for Abby.
“I need to go home and pack for Cal. He just got a call that his mother had a stroke in Texas.”
“He can’t go anywhere today.”
Tears flooded her big brown eyes. “One of his fishing buddies is going to run him over to the mainland. I tried to tell him they’re crazy to go out in this, but he didn’t want to hear it.” She glanced down and saw the bloody, muddy rag around Grant’s hand. “What happened?”
“Door slammed shut on my hand at the marina. Needs a couple of stitches, I guess.”
“Cal is getting ready to leave, but Victoria, the nurse practitioner, is here. She can probably do it for you.”
Stephanie could sense Grant’s relief that he wouldn’t have to be seen by Cal after all.
Looking harried and undone, Dr. Cal came down the hallway toward them. As soon as she saw him, Abby turned away from Grant and focused all her attention on her distraught fiancé. Wrapping her arms around him, she guided him toward the door. Tall and blond in a rugged sort of way, Cal seemed to melt into Abby’s embrace.
“Um, Cal,” Grant said, hesitantly. “Sorry to hear about your mom.”
“Thanks,” Cal said, distracted and clearly anxious to be on his way.
“Uh, I know island life is still sort of new to you,” Grant continued, “but going out on the water today is taking your life in your hands.”
Against all odds, Stephanie found that she was proud of him.
“I know it’s not the smartest thing I’ve ever done,” Cal said in a deep Texan drawl, “but they’re saying the storm will last for days, and my daddy said Mama may not have days left. I can’t wait.”
Stephanie reached out to squeeze Cal’s arm. “We’ll pray for your safety and for your mother, too.”
“Thanks, y’all.” To Abby, he said, “Let’s go, baby. I gotta meet Steve down at the docks in half an hour.” With his arm around Abby, Cal headed for the door.
Abby never looked back.
Stephanie looked up to find Grant’s gaze firmly affixed to his ex-girlfriend. “That was good,” she said.
He finally tore his eyes off the retreating couple and looked down at her. “What was?”
“That you warned him about going out on a boat today.”
Grant shrugged. “Contrary to what you think, I don’t want him dead. I just want him out of her life. Maybe once he gets back to Texas, he’ll realize that’s where he belongs and that will be that.”
Stephanie shook her head with dismay. “You just don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?”
A nurse came down the long hallway to the waiting area. “May I help you?”
“He needs stitches,” Stephanie said, and a lobotomy, she thought but didn’t say.
“Let’s g
et you into an exam room and see what we’ve got,” she said, gesturing for them to follow her.
Grant hesitated long enough that Stephanie gave him a shove to get him moving.
“Ass pain,” he muttered.
“Baby,” she retorted. He was the most maddening of men, but there was something about him that had her following him into the exam room when her better judgment was telling her to get the hell out of there.
Chapter 5
Since he didn’t know where else to go, Ned drove to his best friend’s house. “Big Mac” McCarthy was still recovering from the accident at the marina in which he’d suffered a severe concussion and a fractured arm.
He hadn’t bounced back as quickly as everyone had hoped he would. Dr. Cal had told them head injuries could be tough that way. Often, the patient’s personality could be different as the brain recovered from the trauma of the injury. Ned had been concerned about his friend, and knew the rest of the family had been equally worried.
They’d been friends for so long that Ned couldn’t imagine life without the old guy. That day at the marina… The memory of the drunk whose poor boating skills had resulted in Big Mac being pulled right off the pier ate at Ned and everyone else who’d witnessed the horror of it.
Big Mac’s son Mac had jumped into the water after his father, and Luke Harris had leaped onto the boat, finally getting the boater’s attention but suffering a badly sprained ankle in the process.
Ned shuddered just thinking about it. He’d been to see Big Mac every day since, and he’d continue to go every day until his friend was able to get back to his routine of coffee, donuts and bullshitting with the guys at the marina in the morning, followed by a day of “work” on the docks. They’d all been relieved when Big Mac rallied to walk his little girl down the aisle. Maybe the wedding would be a turning point in his recovery. They could only hope.
Ned pulled into the driveway at the “White House” and cut the engine. After what had transpired with Francine, he probably wasn’t fit for company, but he wouldn’t miss a day with his friend.
The wind and rain beat him up on the way to the door. On the porch, he stomped the water off his shoes, knowing how fussy Linda was about her precious house. He knocked on the door and waited.
Linda came to the door and smiled when she saw him. “Hi, Ned. Come in.” She held the door for him and embarrassed him, as she always did, by kissing him on the cheek. Raising five kids hadn’t done anything to diminish her petite beauty. Blonde and blue-eyed, she could be formidable and a bit exacting, but she’d made him part of their family, and he loved her for that.
“So faithful,” she said, taking his coat. “Even in the middle of a tropical storm.”
Ned shrugged. “Nothing he wouldn’t do for me. How is he today?”
“He’s enjoying having the boys home but a little melancholy after the wedding.”
“Probably woulda been that way after giving away his baby girl even without the head bump.”
“No doubt. He’s in the family room. Go on in.”
Ned started toward the kitchen but stopped and turned back to her. “Could I ask ya something?”
“Of course.”
“If a gal says she doesn’t want ta see ya anymore, but she’s crying her eyes out when she says it, what does that mean?”
“Oh, Ned. Oh no! What happened?”
“Wish I knew. Everything was goin’ along just fine. Till today. I get the feeling she’s keepin’ something from me, but damned if I know what.”
“Maybe you need to give her some space and let her miss you a little. She’ll come around. I told Mac last night that she looks at you like a woman in love.”
“Ya think so? Really?”
She reached for him and wrapped him in a warm hug. “I do. Be patient. Let her work out whatever she’s got going on. She’ll be back.”
“I sure hope yer right.”
“When have you ever known me not to be?”
Ned threw his head back and laughed. “Not once in dern near forty years.”
“There you have it,” she said with a smug smile. “Come have some leftover wedding cake and shoot the bull with your buddy. You’ll feel better after.”
“Already do.” He gave her a peck on the forehead. “Thanks, gal.”
“Any time, my friend.”
Feeling a little lighter after his talk with Linda, Ned let her escort him into a kitchen filled with flowers left over from the wedding and accepted a cup of coffee she proudly told him she’d brewed on the gas grill like a prairie woman. That made him laugh, too, since the last thing Linda McCarthy would ever be was a prairie woman.
He took the coffee with him into the family room, where Big Mac was watching his grown sons Evan and Adam wrestle. Some things, it seemed, never changed.
“Still time to place your bet,” Big Mac said to Ned.
“My money’s on Adam,” Ned said. The smallest of the four McCarthy boys had always been the scrappiest. The brothers were red-faced and sweating profusely as they struggled on the floor.
“Traitor,” Evan grunted out.
“I remain optimistic that they might grow up one of these days,” Big Mac said.
“Keep dreamin’, old pal. If it ain’t happened yet, it ain’t gonna.”
“There’s your opening, Adam,” Big Mac said.
Ned was delighted to see his friend engaged in the goings-on. Having his kids around always raised his spirits.
“Is anyone on my side?” Evan asked as his older brother got the better of him.
“I am, darling,” Linda said from the doorway as she watched with long-suffering patience. “But I’ll skin you both if you break anything.”
Ned chortled with laughter. He loved this rowdy family with all his heart. As much as he wanted to tell Big Mac about picking up Stephanie after she’d spent the night with Grant, he’d never once told tales on the McCarthy kids and wasn’t about to start now. He’d kept a lot of secrets for all five of them over the years, earning him favored uncle status with each of them.
“Ya all recovered from the big day?” Ned asked Big Mac.
“Guess so. My little girl sure seemed happy, didn’t she?”
“That she did—and she was awfully beautiful, too. It was a helluva day.”
“Since they’re stuck here thanks to the storm, everyone’s getting together at Mac and Maddie’s later so they can open their gifts. Hope you can come.”
“I’ll be there.” It occurred to Ned that Francine would probably be there, too. “Wouldn’t miss it.” He took a quick glance at Big Mac, noting that he seemed tired and still somewhat diminished by his injuries. Wondering if his old friend would ever be the same as he’d once been filled Ned with fear and determination to see him through this. “Some pretty big surf running out at the bluffs if ya wanna take a ride and check it out.”
“Maybe after a while.”
“Sure. Whatever you want.”
Laura McCarthy was in love. Owen had shown her through all three floors of the Sand & Surf, pointing out nooks and crannies that made it unique, sharing stories about the guests who’d once filled the rooms and insights about the couple who’d run the hotel for five decades.
“How do you know so much about them?” she asked as they headed down the stairs to the lobby.
“I told you—I know them.”
“How do you know them?”
“They’re my grandparents.”
Shocked, Laura stared at him. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“I don’t know,” he said with a delighted grin that told her he’d enjoyed deceiving her.
“You’ve obviously spent a lot of time here.”
“Every summer of my childhood, from the day after school got out until the day before it started.”
Having spent several summers of her own childhood with her cousins on the island, Laura couldn’t believe she’d never met him before. “Where did you live the rest of the year?”
“Here. Th
ere. Everywhere.”
The vague answer aggravated her. He seemed to be going out of his way to be an enigma. She must’ve looked annoyed, because he laughed.
“My dad is an air force general. We literally lived everywhere. This was the only real home I ever had, the one place that remained a constant. My mom grew up here, too.”
“So you stay here when you’re on the island?”
“Yep. My grandparents pay a caretaker to come in and keep a couple of rooms clean and to make sure we don’t have any unwelcome guests.”
“Like rodents?” Laura took a nervous look around the lobby.
“That and squatters who make themselves right at home.”
“They live in here?”
“We’ve had to relocate a few people since my grandparents finally reached the point where they couldn’t run it anymore.”
“Where are they now?”
“In Florida, hoping someone will fall hopelessly in love with the place and take it off their hands one of these days.”
“Why don’t you do it?”
Owen snorted with laughter. “Because that would require me to stay in one place longer than a week or two. I don’t do roots.”
“So where do you live?”
“Here. There.”
“Everywhere,” she finished for him with another exasperated scowl. “You’re very evasive.”
“Not really. I go where the gigs are. All I need is my van, my guitar and a clean pair of jeans every couple of days. Works for me.”
“Aren’t you getting kind of, um, old to be living like a hobo?”
“Old?” He hooted. “I’m thirty-three!”
“Exactly. When do you grow up and get a real job?” A flash of what might’ve been anger or even hurt crossed his handsome face, and Laura regretted that she’d been so blunt. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“I hear that a lot—that I need to get a real job.” His normally laid-back tone of voice had taken on a bitter edge. “You know what’s so funny about that? I probably have more money in the bank than most of the guys my age who went to college, got married, shackled themselves with a mortgage and settled down to pump out two-point-five kids in the burbs. I’ll guarantee I’m a whole lot happier than most of them are—and I bet my blood pressure is half what theirs is.”