Frank reached the second to last step at the exact moment Puppy barked and leaped upward onto the steps, bumping into Frank's boot.
"Whoa." Frank swung one leg outward to avoid stepping on the puppy. "For land sakes, where the hell did that thing come from?"
Wagging his tail and running circles around the foot of the ladder-like steps, Puppy barked up at Frank.
"Tell me we don't have another one." Frank released his hold on the ladder, taking the last step onto the ground just as Puppy did his dance routine underfoot bumping into Frank. Skidding under the steps, the bundle of fur in motion sent Frank tumbling to the ground.
"Buddy, no!" Jamie shouted, rushing to Frank's side. "Are you okay?"
Flat on his back, Frank blinked upward. "Define okay."
Jamie had to bite back a laugh. It had been a stupid question. Assuming being alive was a good thing, then he was okay. But judging by the way his foot twisted under the last step, Jamie did not need to be a doctor to know Frank was definitely not okay. "Don't move."
"Thought hadn't crossed my mind." Frank grit his teeth. "At least not until I can feel my leg."
Crap. This was so not good. Phone in hand, Jamison tapped speed dial for his cousin Brooks.
"You on your way yet?"
"Nope." Jamie looked at the puppy sitting perfectly still beside Frank. Now he sits. "Got a small problem here."
"How small?" All playfulness had slipped away from Brooks' tone.
"Frank fell from the pull down steps at the new restaurant. If his foot isn't broken it's awfully close."
"I'm more than halfway to the ranch but I'll turn around. Have you got him stabilized?"
"Does lying flat on his back count as stabilized?"
“Comedian. Any signs of injury other than his foot?"
Jamie held two fingers in front of Frank's face. "How many fingers do you see?"
Scratching the puppy with one hand, Frank looked at Jamie’s hand waving in front of him. "Two."
"What year is it?"
“Oh, for the love of Pete. Stop playing Marcus Welby and just tell your brother to get his backside down here. I’ve got to get this foot taped up and ready for work before tomorrow morning."
"You hear that?" Jamie said into the phone.
"I'm pretty sure the whole county heard that. If you've got access to some ice, no harm in using it. And if he plans on going to work tomorrow morning, you'd better hope you're a lousy doctor and that foot isn't even close to broken."
Visions of Frank flipping burgers, wobbling on one foot, flashed through Jamie's mind like scenes from a really bad play. His gaze shifted to the foot still hooked at an awkward angle. If Abbie was upset that he and his family would be opening a dinner pub in town, when she learned he’d incapacitated her only cook, upset would be an understatement. He didn’t have the slightest doubt. Abbie was about to kill him.
CHAPTER THREE
Pacing in the small waiting room, Jamie didn't know what was worse, the silent pained grimace on Frank's face as they moved him to Brooks' clinic, or Abbie’s brave efforts to hide the worry and concern he clearly saw in her eyes.
"Well," Brooks came out from behind closed doors, "do you want the good news first, or the bad?"
"Good" and "bad" tumbled over each other as both he and Abbie responded.
The clinic front door burst open, Sister and Sissy scurrying in like hungry children late for supper. Tall and slender, Sissy spoke first. "We just heard. How is poor Frank?"
"I was about to explain--"
Aunt Eileen came barreling through the same doors, Uncle Sean only two steps behind her. "Got here as fast as we could once we heard Frank had fallen. How bad is it?"
The shorter of the two sisters turned to his aunt. "That's what we want to know too."
Jamie shifted around the growing crowd to move closer to his cousin. "I'm thinking we could all use a little good news."
"Good news? Then he's going to be just fine," Aunt Eileen interrupted.
"Eileen." Sean Farraday slid between his sister-in-law and the two mismatched owners of the town general store. "Give the man a chance."
Straightening her shoulders and jetting out her chin, Abbie ignored the chatter and looked to Brooks. "At this point I don't care if it's good or bad news, I just want to know how Frank is."
Brooks opened his mouth ready to speak, then paused to glance at the front door as though expecting someone else to fly in and interrupt.
“We’re it,” Aunt Eileen spoke. “Rest of the family is waiting at the ranch.”
“And we didn’t say a word to anyone else,” Sister said. “We ran straight over as soon as we bumped into Ned.”
Jamie didn’t want to know why Ned the mechanic, who was older than dirt, knew about Frank’s injury. All he wanted to know was what they were up against.
"His foot is not broken."
Jamie could actually feel the air shift with a group sigh of relief.
"But he might've been better off if he had,” Brooks continued.
Aunt Eileen frowned. "I don't like the sound of that."
"With a clean break we know we’re looking at a six week recovery. Frank’s got soft tissue damage."
"Torn ligaments?" Abbie asked.
Brooks nodded. "And tendons. To make things more difficult, he’s injured this ankle before."
"I don't remember him having a hurt leg." Sissy turned to her sibling. "Do you remember that, Sister?"
The shorter of the two, with a bee hive hairdo that would do any Texas matron from the nineteen fifties proud, shrugged. "For as long as he's lived in Tuckers Bluff, I've never known him to have a hurt foot."
"I don't think that it's possible for a man to make it through twenty years as a career Marine and get out without a bad something or other for a reminder of his service." Uncle Sean shook his head.
"That's right," Abbie hissed. "He's got a bad knee. I've always assumed it was from his days in the Marine Corps, but he's never confirmed that."
"He didn’t say,” Brooks continued. “Bottom line is he's looking at quite a few weeks before he's back to normal. Minimum one week no weight at all on that foot and then we can re-evaluate.”
Uncle Sean shook his head. "He is not going to like that."
The crease in Abbie’s brow deepened and Jamie knew Frank wasn’t the only one for who weeks off his feet was not a good thing.
"Frank is a man of few words.” Brooks looked to his dad. “And the ones he shared when I told him I expected him to keep his foot elevated above his heart until the swelling was completely gone would get my mouth washed out with soap even at my age."
"Well," Aunt Eileen rubbed her hands together, "guess we'd better take him home."
The two sisters nodded. "He's going to need looking after."
"Exactly." Aunt Eileen looked to her nephew. "He'd best be coming home with us."
This time the two sisters shook their head. "No point taking him all the way out to the ranch. He can stay with us. Sister and I will look after him."
"What about the shop?" Uncle Sean asked.
Sister shrugged. "We can make that work. No need for both of us to be there all day."
"That's right,” Sissy agreed, looking a little too satisfied for her own good. “This town looks after its own. Frank is one of ours."
The words almost made Jamie spit with laughter. He’d been visiting the ranch the year that Frank came to town. One of their own wasn’t quite the words he’d remembered the sisters using at the time.
"Can I see him please?" Abbie asked, her voice low and strained.
"Of course. I gave him something for the pain. Not much. The man is stubborn, amongst other things. But he's expecting you."
Abbie nodded and moved slowly forward. He could only imagine all the things running through her head. He didn't know the history between Abbie and Frank, he didn't think anyone in town did, except maybe DJ. But it was no secret to anyone in town that Frank Carter would lay down his life for
Abbie. Same as any man would for a sister, mother or daughter.
Increasing his gait to catch up with her, Jamie gently took hold of her elbow. "I'll come too, if that's okay."
Abbie merely nodded.
Eyes closed and his hands across his chest, Frank looked almost peaceful. Only the bandaged ankle nearly twice as thick as the other foot and propped up high on a pile of pillows gave a picture of reality. And right now, reality was one hell of a mess.
****
There's been a small accident. From the moment Jamie uttered those words, Abbie's heart had not been able to slow to a normal rhythm. Not until Jamie explained only Frank's ankle had been hurt from falling down the pull down stairs had she been able to expel the breath she'd been holding.
Frank had saved her life in so many ways. From that fateful day nobody could ever forget, to the day he moved to Tuckers Bluff to cook for her café, and every day since. She couldn't imagine life in Tuckers Bluff without him.
Even now she worried. Could he have hit his head? Could there be more internal damage obscured by the attention to his foot? If he refuses meds, would blood clots be a problem?
Reeling in every rogue thought and concern by reminding herself what a fantastic doctor Brooks was, and knowing he cared as much about Frank, almost as much, as she did. "If you wanted a vacation, you could have just asked." She wished her voice hadn't come out quite so shaky.
The corner of Frank's mouth lifted into a snarl that substituted for a smile. "Vacations are overrated."
Stepping up beside the exam table, she laid her hands over his and squeezed. "Like it or not, it looks like you're gonna have one now."
Frank groaned and rolled his eyes. "Not happening. I'll be up and about tomorrow morning, same as always. You can count on that."
Her gaze shifted briefly from Frank to Brooks. The family physician remained silent and shook his head.
"I have it on good authority," Abbie patted his hand, "you are on mandatory rest. At least until the swelling is gone."
"Bull...” He paused. “Feathers."
If her world wasn't about to spin around on its axis, she might have laughed out loud at Frank's efforts not to curse in front of her. After all, it wasn't like she hadn't heard him use a few choice words before. Apparently living in the small Texas town for as many years as he had, had done some good to his vocabulary.
"Like it or not, you're staying off that foot until the doc says it's okay to be up and about."
"No offense, Doc," Frank waved a finger at Brooks, "but it will take more than just a twisted foot to keep me down. Good laced boot and I'll be ready to go."
Brooks chuckled. "Even if you are ornery enough to work on that ankle—against doctor's orders, mind you—you'd have to get past that bunch out there."
"What bunch?" Frank turned his attention to the closed door.
"It seems," Jamie spoke for the first time, "that you have an abundance of potential nurse maids."
Frank looked at Abbie. "What the hell is he talking about?"
"Common sense says you can't stay off your foot and take care of yourself at the same time," she explained.
"Says who?"
"My aunt," Jamie and Brooks echoed.
"And," Abbie added, "the sisters."
Letting out a deep groan, Frank dropped his head back on the table. Shaking his head, the scowl that had been permanently in place gave away to a soft chuckle that slowly grew into rumbling laughter.
Shaking off the nervous edge that regurgitated in her gut at his bizarre reaction, Abbie hefted one hand onto her hip. "And what may I ask is so funny?"
"Of all the times in my life, and there have been many, when I imagined what it would be like to have women fighting over whose bed I would sleep in," Frank waved a finger at the door, "not once did any of that lot come to mind."
The two Farradays quickly covered their mouths. Jamie suddenly found the floor very interesting and Brooks tinkered with the pen in his pocket. Both failing miserably to hide their laughter. Under any other circumstances, she might've found that comment funny too.
“You will be more comfortable with help,” Brooks added.
Frank merely groaned.
“If you want to move into the apartment upstairs from the restaurant, then I can run up and check on you every little bit. Make sure you’re eating and keeping your foot up.”
“That’s not half a bad idea,” Frank agreed. “I can stay in the apartment upstairs, but you won’t have time to run up and down stairs. I’ll just come to work in the morning.”
Brooks shook his head. “No work.”
“She needs me,” Frank grumbled.
“Says who?” Abbie barked back. Just because it was true didn’t mean she had to let him know it.
Balancing on his elbows, Frank winced when the movement jostled his foot.
“And that,” Brooks pointed, “is why you need to let your foot heal.”
Frank shook his head at Abbie. “You can’t work the kitchen and wait tables. Someone has to cook, and it isn’t you.”
“I’ll do it.”
All heads in the room turned to Jamie.
“Don’t look so surprised. I do know my way around a kitchen. I'd have no business running my own pub if I didn't."
Surprise slid away from Abbie's gaze. She turned to face Frank. "There you have it. He can cook. Now, who's gonna take care of you? The Farradays or the sisters?"
CHAPTER FOUR
“Two pairs, Queens high." Eileen Callahan, aunt to the massive Farraday clan, looked over her shoulder at Abbie a few tables away. The poor thing was as jittery as the proverbial long-tailed cat in a room full of rockers. Eileen knew how the woman felt. This wasn’t even her café and the thought of Abbie’s livelihood depending on Eileen’s nephew the bartender working in the kitchen, made her wish all she had to worry about were a few rocking chairs and an emergency trip to the vet. At least she could rest easy knowing that Frank was being well cared for at the ranch. Though the way Sister argued with Sean and later fawned over Frank when Brooks let them all in to see his patient, Eileen had a feeling that Sister might have been motivated by a little more than neighborly consideration. The way Frank quickly chose the ranch, he most likely had gotten the same impression.
Ruth Ann blew out a soft sigh. "Usually a pair of queens requires more than one but less than three."
Glancing at her cards, Eileen had no idea what happened to the other queen. "I know I had two."
Dorothy picked up a discarded playing card. "I think this is what you're looking for."
"Oh, of course. Simple mistake. I was distracted."
Sally May tossed her hand onto the pile in the middle of the table. "I know we’re not playing for real money, but distraction is not an option."
"Except for her." Dorothy jerked a thumb in Ruth Ann’s direction.
Ever since Ruth Ann had started dating Kelly's great uncle Ralph, from time to time she’d gotten increasingly more distracted in her card playing. Eileen guessed it was like the old cliché; lucky in cards, unlucky in love. Or in this case, lucky in love, unlucky in cards. Or would that be distracted in cards. Whatever.
The clamor of clashing metal rang out in the café and Abbie took off in a mad dash for the kitchen.
Shuffling the deck, Dorothy paused and leaned forward. "That's the third time this hour. Do you think maybe one of us should go see if we can help?"
Eileen bit her lower lip and shook her head. She'd wanted to jump up and run to the kitchen after the first time the crashing sound of metal ricocheted through the restaurant.
"So," Ruth Ann cut the deck, leaning in conspiratorially, "if we're not going to do anything to help, why in heaven's name did we show up for a special card playing session at the crack of dawn?"
Eileen sucked in a deep breath and reached for the first card dealt her way. The social club always started their card games early in the morning, but rarely were they the first customers in the door. "Moral support."
> Sally May rolled her eyes and muttered, "Moral support my foot."
A full tray on her shoulder, Abbie came hurrying out of the kitchen and rushed past the card playing friends to the table behind them. To her credit, Abbie had plastered on a pleasant smile and took her time setting out the plates and dishes at the neighboring table, taking a moment to chat with the customers the same as she did on any ordinary day of the week.
Except for all the noises that didn't usually come from the kitchen, if Eileen weren't privy to what was actually happening today, she'd have no clue someone new was doing the cooking.
“It would help if Donna hadn’t called in sick at the last minute.” Sally May sorted her cards.
“It’s not her fault her little girl has the flu. Besides, under normal circumstances with Frank in the kitchen, Abbie can handle this place with one hand tied behind her back.”
“I suppose on the bright side,” Ruth Ann rearranged her cards, “breakfast crowd is almost over.”
A fresh set of cards in her hand, including two aces, and no surprising sounds from the kitchen, Eileen nodded and decided perhaps everyone’s luck had changed.
"Anyone like their coffee freshened up?" Abbie held up a pot, her smile a little tired.
All the card players shook their heads. Even if they'd wanted another cup, no one dared to take up Abbie's time.
Eileen wasn't totally sure, but she thought she heard Abbie mumble "bless you" under her breath moments before the old-fashioned bell tinkled above the door announcing the entrance of a new customer. In almost choreographed precision, three voices across the table, including Abbie's, muttered "uh oh."
Eileen dared to glance over her shoulder. A parade of new customers pushed through the doorway. Tourists. From the way they continued to pour in, Eileen guessed one of the bigger buses.
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