“Damn it.” In one long step, Billy reached out and smacked Nick’s sandaled feet off the desktop. “Didn’t your mother teach you to keep your shoes off the furniture?”
Nick was on his feet and in Billy’s face roaring like a Marine drill sergeant. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Not a damn thing.” Billy poked at Nick. “And watch your mouth. There could be kids out there.”
Poking back, Nick’s eyes narrowed with raw anger. “And you think you’re setting a stellar example? I repeat, what the hell is wrong with you? Damn it, if you need a woman, go get laid. But quit ripping the hide off our employees. Our good employees.”
“I don’t need to get laid.” Billy took a step back. Drew in a deep breath. Nick was right. Jonathan didn’t deserve to be roared at like a rookie recruit. “I just want the roster.”
Nick would have made a damn fine SEAL. Still standing his ground, his glare didn’t waver.
“Look.” Billy sank into his chair. “I’m sorry it’s been more chaotic than I expected not having Lexie here the last few days.”
“I’m not the one you need to be apologizing to.” Nick retreated to his side of the desk.
“Yeah. But I do need the roster.”
“Did you look on your desk?”
Billy nodded. “It’s not…” To his left was the roster for the morning tour. Right where Lexie always left it after lunch. Right where Jonathan must have left it today. “Man.”
“You gonna say something?”
Billy stood and walked across the shop to the register where Jonathan still sifted through the desktop disarray. “Listen, man. I found the roster. I’m sorry. I don’t know how I missed it.”
“Good.” Some of the color returned to Jonathan’s face. “I thought I’d put it there, but when you—”
“Yeah, sorry.”
Jonathan only nodded as Billy returned more calmly to his office. Nothing like being chewed out by your partner to put you in your place. Especially when he was right.
“You ready to tell me what’s going on?” Nick pushed away from the desk. “Is it the water thing? ’Cause it’s past time. There’s no physical reason you can’t be back in the ocean.”
No physical reason.
“I know how hard it is to stay away from the water,” Nick continued. “I couldn’t do it. Damn, I almost lost the woman I love because I couldn’t give up the ocean.” He stepped up beside Billy. “You haven’t been back in the water in almost three years, buddy. I can see it eating you up. It’s time.”
“It’s not the water. I’ve been distracted. There’s the new program. Lexie has been out of the office for days. And…”
“And what?”
“Has Kara said anything about Angela?” Billy had hoped Kara might have said something to Nick about how Angela was doing, but if she had, Nick hadn’t repeated any of it.
“Angela?”
“You hard of hearing now?”
“No.” Nick shook his head and chuckled.
“It’s not funny. She was really worried before her surgery.”
Still shaking his head, Nick retook the seat behind his desk. “How would you know?”
“She might have said something at her birthday party.” Billy wanted news, not an inquisition.
“You should call and ask her yourself. I know you have her number. You’re the one who gave it to me when I decided to find a house for Bradley.”
Billy ignored the suggestion and studied the roster for the morning dive. If things hadn’t gone well with Angela’s laparoscopy, he’d have heard by now. Kara would have said something if the results brought bad news.
“Why do you two look like someone sank the Kona Queen?” Lexie strolled into the room and stopped short when her eyes met Billy’s. “Oh God, what happened?”
“Nothing.” Nick lifted his hand pointing over his shoulder with his thumb to Billy. “Mr. Grizzly is testing how long it will take to piss off the world.”
“I heard. “Lexie moved closer. “Jonathan called. The guy sounded like a girl. You had him in a total dither over the dive snacks and filling the cylinders. By the time he got to the missing roster, he was pretty much begging me to come and help. When he called back to say you’d found it, I was already halfway here and thought I might as well see what else you need.”
“Who’s with Angela?” Billy hoped his voice sounded nonchalant, casual, but didn’t miss the way Lexie shot Nick a curious glance or how Nick shrugged one shoulder in silent reply.
“No one. She’s getting around really well on her own.” Lexie plopped down on the well-worn sofa. “The postanesthesia nausea has gone away, as well as the lingering grogginess. She’s still sore, moving slowly, and a little tired, but that’s to be expected.”
The way Lexie studied him, waiting for his response, or perhaps his next question, reminded him of the way Nick had faced him down only a short while ago. She made him damned uncomfortable with his own thoughts. Maybe she should have been a Marine. “Then you’re still dive leader for tomorrow morning?”
“Yeah, and I’m good to go for the night dive, too.”
He almost asked who’d be staying with Angela, but it was none of his business. A hundred questions popped into his head, and he realized he had no right to ask any of them. He had no right to anything anymore.
* * *
Two weeks. Angela stared at her pocket calendar. The doctor insisted on no driving for two weeks.
No baths and no sex. She didn’t like tubs, and it had been so long since she’d had sex she wasn’t sure she remembered how. But no driving for ten more days?
Having stocked up on groceries the day before surgery, she wasn’t concerned with anything except maybe fresh milk. It was her business she was at a loss for. How had she missed the no driving part of her doctor’s preop speech? Oh, yeah, she’d been fixated on the two-year window of fertility. Right. Damn.
The closing for the Kapule’s house in North Kona was late enough in the day that perhaps Kara or Lexie could drive her. That wouldn’t take but half an hour. And her listing in the Heights was behind schedule on updates. If the stars were aligned, the repairs wouldn’t be finished for two more weeks, when she could drive over for a final walk-through before placing the property for sale. But what to do with the list of people wanting to look at houses now?
Mulling over which of her clients could wait and who would have to be referred to another Realtor, the sound of the doorbell almost startled her off the sofa.
Six o’clock. Kara had promised to stop by with supper, but why was she ringing the bell? Easing her legs off the couch, Angela cautiously inched her way to the open balcony at the front of the house. “Hello?”
Backing out from under the lanai, Billy Everrett tilted his head up. “Kara sent you supper.” He held up a medium-sized thermal bag.
“Door’s open. Come on up.” Angela tried not to let the fury building inside hurry her along. Kara couldn’t wait to sic poor unsuspecting Billy on her. What part of no did the woman not understand? Was she that desperate to marry her off? Surely Kara wasn’t concerned Angela still had her sights set on Nick. Could she be? No. She shook off the ridiculous thought.
Steaming mad, and walking like a woman in shackles, Angela had only made it partway across the room when Billy came off the top step.
He held out a covered casserole dish. “Bradley’s
sick. Nick’s doing his best, but Bradley won’t let Kara leave.”
All her anger at Kara swooshed out like air from a punctured inner tube. And if she could move her foot more than six inches at a time, she’d kick herself. “Oh dear. What’s he got?”
Billy shrugged. “Not sure if it’s a virus or something he ate, but he can’t keep food down, and when he’s not hanging over the john, he’s clinging to Kara. Where shall I put this?”
“I’ll take it.” She reached forward, but Billy pulled the casserole closer to him and shook his head.
“I have strict or
ders. You’re to sit down and rest. One minute per serving in the microwave. And I’m to stay until you’re finished and then do the dishes.” Before she could utter a word of protest, he held his hand up. “I did mention the word strict did I not?”
Angela bobbed her head. “And an order is an order.”
She nodded again, raising her right arm toward the kitchen.
“So are you hungry now, or do you want to wait a bit?”
Wait a bit? As in stay and watch her sit until she got hungry. Not. “I could eat. But you really don’t have to—”
Holding that massive hand up again, Billy slowly turned his head from left to right and smiled. “An order is—”
“An order.” Yeah, she got that. Which is why she would have made a lousy soldier. Or sailor. She was a firm believer of it’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission. Something she was sure would not go over well with commanding officers.
“Do you want to eat this at the table or back at the sofa.” Lifting his chin, he pointed in the direction of where she’d acquired a mound of stuff.
Her laptop, briefcase, file folders, a pillow, blanket, one paperback and her NOOK e-reader, an empty mug of tea, a half-full glass of cola, dirty lunch dishes that she’d promised Lexie she would leave for her or Kara to deal with—which was a ludicrous request in and of itself since there was no strenuous effort involved in putting a plate in the dishwasher, but arguing had been pointless. Oscar Madison of The Odd Couple fame would have felt right at home. She only hoped Billy wasn’t her Felix Unger. “The table, please.”
The distance to the table was shorter than to the sofa, but still took twice as long as normal to cross. At one point she paused to glance at Billy in the kitchen and caught him watching her. He quickly turned away, but not before she saw concern etched on his face.
“It was nice of you to volunteer.” Gripping the handles tightly, she carefully eased down into the chair. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw Billy flinch.
“I’m glad to help.” Carrying a heaping dish of lasagna, he paused to pick up a few slices of bread. “We had a stressful day. Jonathan was in no mood to lead the manta dive. Lexie stepped in to cover for him. Stepping in for her here was the least I could do.”
“Why didn’t you cover for Jonathan?” She knew what everyone else said, now she wanted to know what he said.
For a long moment she didn’t think he was going to answer. From halfway across the room, she could almost hear his teeth grinding. His back went military straight, and his eyes grew bitter cold. She wouldn’t have been surprised had he slid her plate on the table and silently left.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asked.
“Water will be fine. Thank you.”
The chill had eased from his gaze, but his jaw remained clenched tight. When he returned with the tall glass of ice water, their fingers brushed ever so slightly, and as if pulled by a connected string, their gazes lifted and met.
“I don’t dive anymore.” He didn’t move, didn’t sit, didn’t relax. Finally he let go of the glass. “I won’t dive anymore.”
“Won’t or can’t?” She took a long swallow. It would take a gallon of ice water to abate the sudden flush of heat.
“Doesn’t matter.”
Setting the drink aside, she reached for the fork and poked at the food. Keeping her eyes on the plate, she carefully asked, “But you could?”
Billy did not want to have this conversation. He fell back on the same line he always used when someone pushed the issue. “I could wrestle an alligator, too. And win. But I’m not going to do that either.”
A sly grin tugged at her lips. “Now what would a nice Kona boy know about alligators?”
He grinned back. “There’s more to Panama City than the navy and spring break.”
“Since you’ve been ordered to babysit me, you might as well grab a plate and join me. Lord knows, if I eat all that lasagna myself, I’ll need a new wardrobe.”
“Thanks,” Billy was glad for the change of topic and the lighter mood. “For a Texan, Kara makes a killer lasagna.”
“She’s pretty good with the margaritas, too.” Fork partway to her mouth, Angela froze. A pretty crimson crept from her collarbone up to her now very rosy cheeks.
“I’m more of a beer man.” Billy had to swallow a smile. If her mind wandered back to him and Nick finding the three friends sauced and giggling like teenagers on the living room floor, he wasn’t surprised she was blushing like a Victorian virgin. His back to her, he placed the dish in the microwave and waited. “Ever been to England?” “No. Wyoming and Hawaii. Tried LA for a little while, but the smog made me cough.”
He set his hot dish beside her and sat. “Why’d you leave Wyoming?” “Honestly?”
He nodded.
“I hate the snow.” She smiled and took a bite.
“Can’t argue with you there. I’ve been a lot of places, and none compare to Kona. Some come close. But close doesn’t win the prize.”
“So you’ve never thought about living anywhere else?”
Did he want to go there? Want to tell her about Claire? About the little boy who would grow up without his father. The little girl with her daddy’s eyes. The shoes Billy couldn’t fill. “Georgia.”
“Georgia?”
“Savannah.”
“I’ve heard lovely things about Savannah.” “It’s pretty.”
“But not pretty enough?”
“I didn’t belong there.”
“What do they say? Home is where your heart is?”
“Or the people you love.”
“Who did you love?”
“My parents, sisters.”
“No girl left waiting behind?”
That made Billy laugh. The skinny kid who spent more time in the water than on land hadn’t been all that appealing to teenage girls. “No. No girl waiting for me.”
“Ah, a whole flock?”
“Hardly.” How was it she made laughing so easy?
“Their loss.” Slowly rising from the table, it wasn’t until she held a dish in each hand that he realized her intention.
He took both away from her. “Not happening. If you’re finished, go relax. I’ll be on my way as soon as I’m done cleaning up.”
“At least let me help.”
“Sorry.” He shook his head. “I have to work with Lexie and Nick.”
“What does Nick have to do with my helping?”
“He has to live with Kara. Now go sit or
something.”
“Or something,” she mumbled, shuffling away. “Oh, did Lexie tell you that your clients the DeLucas want to buy a summer home here in Kona?”
“No. But it shouldn’t surprise me. They’ve come to Kona every summer since I was a kid. Did Lexie give them your name?”
“Yep.” Angela lowered herself slowly onto the sofa. “Fortunately, they don’t want to start looking until after I’m cleared for driving. I’d have hated referring them to another agent.”
“When will you be cleared to drive?”
“Ten more days.” From the coffee table, she picked up a bottle of meds, poured one onto her hand, and then with the half-full glass of cola, swallowed.
He closed the dishwasher door and proceeded into the living room. “But you’re all right?”
As though too tired to lift both corners of her lips, one side of her mouth turned up in a halfhearted smile. “I shouldn’t be passing out on you anymore.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” She twisted to lift her legs onto the sofa and closing her eyes tightly, hissed in a pained breath. “Damn it.”
Billy pushed forward. Settling his hand on her shoulder, he rearranged the cushion and fluffed the pillow. “Take it from someone who knows, there’s a time to push and a time to take it easy. This is the time for taking it easy.”
Breathing slowly, she eased back onto the pile of pillows and closed her eyes. “S
o everyone keeps telling me.”
“Are you going to be okay on your own?”
She blinked slowly, as though lifting her eyelids required great effort. “If I didn’t know better, I might think you were fishing for an invitation.”
Stepping back, he considered how to answer that. Her gaze had gone soft on him, and the anticipation he saw told him whatever he said now was very important. Lord, he hoped he got it right. “Sorry, ma’am. Just concerned.”
Eyes closed again and snuggled into the cushions, she mumbled, “Story of my life.”
“And what would that be?”
“No one wants to make babies with me.”
Chapter Nine
Billy’s eyes roamed from Angela’s sleeping form to the front door and back. Should he leave? Should he stay? Would she remember what she’d said about making babies? Did she even know what she’d said?
Picking up the dirty dishes, his gaze fell on the pills she’d just taken. What did they have her on anyhow? Setting the lunch plate back down, he lifted the nearly full bottle of pills. Oxycodone. Crap. No wonder she kept zonking out. What crackpot doctor gives a woman oxycodone for minor outpatient surgery?
Something didn’t add up. For almost two full days her friends had kept round-the-clock vigilance on her. And her doctor prescribed enough high-powered dope to keep a seasoned addict high for a week.
He carried the dirty plates to the kitchen, rinsed them, and loaded them into the dishwasher. All the while he let what she’d told him in recent conversations bounce around in his mind. Endometriosis. Chance of conception. Window of fertility. House full of children. Marriage and babies. In that order.
Not comfortable with leaving her alone, Billy considered how pissed she would be if he helped himself to the laptop at the foot of the sofa? Unwilling to leave her and unwilling to wait, borrowing the laptop without permission won the internal debate.
At the kitchen table, he opened a browser and began reading up on endometriosis. With each new website, he read more of the same. Varying degrees of severity and pain. Issues with fertility. No cure. Hormone therapy versus surgery. For a single woman who’d dreamed her entire life of having children, he couldn’t imagine a more heartbreaking diagnosis.
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