by Abby Brooks
“Remember to put those in the fridge when you get home so you and Mom can have some dinner. Next time you come see me, she should come with you. I’d love to meet her.”
Shane nodded, but didn’t look convinced.
Following his directions, I drove him home. He guided me with the confidence of someone much older, which only sent my mind hurtling down more uncomfortable paths.
After watching Shane let himself into a dilapidated duplex, I headed to the grocery and filled my cart with fresh fruit, vegetables, bottled water, potato chips, cookies. Whatever I found that looked moderately interesting made the cut. Balancing a foldup table on top of it all, I earned a strange look from the cashier as I waddled to the register.
“Having a party?”
I shook my head and shrugged. “Just taking care of some friends.”
On the way back to the clinic, I belted out a Collin West ballad, then burst into the squat building like Robin Hood with his hands full. Doctor Fitzgerald looked up as I entered. The older woman’s gray hair hung in a sensible braid down her back. A pair of reading glasses perched on her nose and intelligence sparked in her eyes. She sized me up. “What’s all this?”
“Sometimes I take too long with patients. I thought I’d make the waiting room more hospitable.” The lie rolled easily off my tongue. I was getting better.
Dorothy’s frown informed me I wasn’t quite as better as I thought. Nevertheless, she helped me squeeze the table into a corner, then schlepped bags of food in from my car. We arranged everything as artfully as we could and I stood back, admiring the bounty before us. “Make sure everyone knows to take as much as they want,” I said. “I’ll keep this baby stocked.”
Dorothy shifted her weight from foot to foot, obviously trying to figure out how to ask about Shane and my sudden desire to feed half the Keys without Fitzgerald overhearing.
I gave her a pointed look. “Did you know Toto didn’t always have enough to eat before he landed the Oz gig?”
Her hand covered her mouth, then dropped to her heart. “You’re kidding me. That is so sad.”
“After I found that out, I ended up wondering how many…uhhh…acting animals…had that problem. Which spurred this idea.” I wiggled jazz hands in the direction of the table.
Fitzgerald peered at me over her glasses, her shrewd eyes chewing up the lie and spitting it out at my feet. She cocked her head and I braced for the whole thing to collapse around me.
“I also heard he was a she and is buried under some freeway in Los Angeles.” Fitzgerald shrugged. “Don’t ask me why I know that. The age of the internet is weird.”
By the time I returned home, Joe’s truck was missing from its spot on the street. A strange spasm accompanied the realization that he might be out on a date. Since when did I care about his dating life? I put a hand to my forehead and found it cool. No reason to think the spasm was because of a fever.
Maybe lunch wasn’t agreeing with me.
I ambled up the steps, running my hand along the smooth bannister. I even paused on the third stair and bounced, thrilled to find it sturdy and quiet, then pushed through the door with a cheerful, “Honey! I’m home!”
Nan’s voice bubbled over laughter coming from the study. “We’re in here, Kiki! Come see!”
My grandmother sat with Delores and two women I didn’t recognize. Gorgeous bookshelves graced the back wall. The workmanship paled only in comparison to the smile on Nan’s face. “Just look what Joe did for me!”
She ran a finger over the rich wood as I drew close enough to inspect. Books I didn’t know she owned graced most of the shelves, but the focal point was the pictures of Grandpa and our family arranged next to the medals he earned in Vietnam.
Tears gleamed in Nan’s eyes. “I haven’t seen these in so long.” She placed a hand to her heart. “Joe made these shelves as a gift, and as beautiful as they are, the true gift is right here.” She patted a hand in front of the pictures. “He was so worried to show me. Afraid he’d made a mistake, putting them there…”
Nan pressed a finger to a smiling image of a young, strapping Grandpa George.
Joe’s reticence to talk about the shelves smacked me in the face. He hadn’t been up-charging Nana Maxine. He’d been trying to surprise her.
My stomach churned and my brow knit.
If I’d been wrong about that, where else had I missed the mark when it came to Joe Channing?
“They’re beautiful, Nan.” I took in the pictures one by one. “It’s so good to see Grandpa again.”
The swish of velour and the scent of baby powder stole my attention. Delores stood about six inches too close, a large smile devouring her face. “You were right about Joe.”
“Considering I’ve actually called him the devil, I’d say I was more wrong than right.”
“Look at you, playing innocent.” She waggled her eyebrows and gave a little shimmy of her hips. “Anyone can see what’s between you two.”
Recoiling, I barked laughter. “Hatred and loathing?”
“Chemistry, Kennedy.” Delores fanned her face. “Lots and lots of chemistry.”
Chapter Twelve
Joe
If I’d known how the day would end up, I’d have holed up in the guesthouse, hung garlic over the door, and armed myself with silver bullets, mala beads, rosaries, quartz crystals…you name a way to keep evil at bay and I’d have strapped it on.
The bookshelves had gone over better than I’d hoped, but they put me behind schedule on the things that actually needed done around the Monroe house. Which meant I was rushing. So I wasn’t paying as much attention as one should while climbing ladders with full hands.
First my hammer slipped.
Stupid me tried to catch it.
So my foot slipped.
There was a second of oh shit I’m falling…
And my shoulder hit the ground with a bone-jarring crunch.
Stunned, I lay still for a few numb seconds while having a full-on conversation with myself.
“Okay. You just fell off a ladder. It hurt. But not that bad. You’re fine. Totally fine.” I tried to shift into a sitting position. Pain ground through me and I saw stars. My left arm refused to move and hung at an awkward angle. “Maybe fine is too strong a word.”
As if I wasn’t already convinced the house was cursed, Kennedy rushed in and crouched beside me. “Don’t move yet.”
The authority in her voice rolled my eyes so hard I got dizzy.
Who did she think she was? A doctor?
“I’m fine.” The words grit past clenched teeth as I willed myself off the ground.
“You really aren’t.” Gentle hands poked and prodded my arm and I grunted a curse. “It looks like you’ve dislocated your shoulder. Come on, big guy. Put down your pride and let me help.”
I must have hit the ground harder than I thought because I didn’t even try to fight her. She helped me to my feet and led me to her car, then carefully assisted while I struggled with the seatbelt. When she brought the engine to life, one of Collin’s songs came over the speakers. I chuckled at the irony. What would she say if she knew he was my brother?
“Sorry.” She turned off the radio with an embarrassed smirk. “He’s my absolute favorite, but I’m sure he’s too mainstream for you.”
That little nugget went right into the memory banks for use at a later date. I didn’t know how, and I didn’t know why, but someday that knowledge would come in handy in my battle against Penny Dreadful.
I expected her to take me to the hospital. Instead, she pulled into the lot of a grimy free clinic. “Why am I not surprised I don’t even rate a trip to the ER?”
She arched an eyebrow in a look I’d learned meant she was moving in for the kill. “I volunteer here, Joe.”
My name coming in contact with those lips had the same effect on me as it did when she fought me over the bookshelves. A surge of lust danced through my belly, then settled in my crotch.
With effort, I refo
cused. “You’re actually a doctor?”
“And you’re very perceptive.” She killed the engine. “After the finger and the face, I owe it to you to fix you up as best I can. This way, you won’t have to deal with insurance or waiting rooms.”
With a shrug, she leaned over and unclicked my seatbelt. Her low-cut shirt gaped, affording me a perfect view of pert breasts spilling out of white lace. Her hand brushed my thigh as she struggled with the clasp and I fought another surge of lust sending blood to my dick.
Get a grip, Channing. You can’t stand her, remember?
As a curtain of hair fell across her face, I caught the scent of lilacs. It immediately became my favorite smell—which I took as a sign I had a concussion, because surely it didn’t have anything to do with her.
We pushed through the doors and a dark-haired receptionist lit the room with her smile. “Hey! What’s up, Doc?” When her gaze met mine, her lips parted and her eyes widened. “And friend. Doc, and friend.” She gave Kennedy a look I’d learned was girl-code for “Sweet Jesus, who is that?”
Penny Dreadful grinned. “Hey, Dorothy. How’s Toto?”
The receptionist placed her hands on the desk, slowly shrugged, and made intense eye contact. “Don’t know,” she said, so over-the-top casual my ears perked up. “Haven’t seen him in a while.”
Kennedy nodded like they weren’t engaged in the strangest conversation she’d had in a decade, then indicated me with a jerk of her thumb. “This is my Nan’s asshole handyman. He fell off a ladder and I owe him. I’m gonna need Todd if he’s available. Room number one open?”
“It’s all yours. I’ll let Todd know.”
Patients munching on snacks filled the waiting room. A large man with quivering jowls chomped into an apple, then lifted a hand. “Looking good, Doc Monroe!”
“Tony. Hi. Did we have an appointment today?” She paused. “You’re not having more problems, are you?”
He brandished the apple with glee. “Just taking advantage of your buffet. If I have to eat food that kills my soul, I might as well do it on your dime instead of mine.” The man loosed a cackle that had those jowls wobbling and his eyes lighting.
“As long as we get that bloodwork looking better, I’ll fill that table twice a day.”
Kennedy turned to Dorothy. “I have more food in the car, by the way. Feel like helping me put it out once I’m done with this guy?” She indicated me with a jerk of her chin.
Dorothy nodded. Tony offered to help. As did three other patients. What freaking universe had I fallen into? Not only was Kennedy a doctor, but she volunteered at a free clinic where everyone worshipped her as a saint? How was she the same woman who’d been plotting to force her grandmother out of her beloved home?
I followed her down a poorly lit hallway. Linoleum floor instead of tile. Flicker to the florescent lights. Crumbling drywall. All of it medical quality clean. The sway of Kennedy’s hips caught my attention. As I followed the hypnotizing rhythm, the scene from the waiting room replayed in my head. Tony’s welcoming smile. The admiration in Dorothy’s eyes…
“You’re staring.”
“Am not.”
“I can feel your eyes burning holes in my back.” We came to the end of the hallway and she pushed open a door, gesturing for me to enter.
I leaned in the doorway, awash in the scent of lilacs. “Be patient with me. I just had my worldview blown to bits and I think I have a concussion. I’m trying to adjust to a timeline where you might not be universally hated.”
She licked her lips and laughed, her eyes taking in every feature of my face, drinking me in like I was the last drop of her new favorite wine. “Come on.” She nodded toward the room. “Let’s get you fixed up. You’re gonna like me even less than you already do in a few minutes.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.” Though the fire that usually lit those words had dimmed. How hard did I hit the ground?
“You’re gonna need me to do a closed reduction on that shoulder, which means I need to put the ball of your upper arm back in the socket—”
Raising my hand, I cut her off. “Pardon me while I tell you your business, but don’t we need an X-ray first?”
A large man tattooed from head to toe in freckles appeared at my side. He and Kennedy shared a smirk. “Joe?” She arched an eyebrow. “I’d like you to meet Todd. The X-ray tech here at Community Health Center.”
The man gave her an obvious mental high five, then turned to me with a saccharine smile. “Follow me and let’s find out what we’re dealing with,” he said, then muttered something that sound a hell of a lot like, “other than asshole-itis.”
The X-ray proved Kennedy’s diagnosis on point, as did the closed reduction. As she fixed my shoulder, I cursed her name. Many times. And in four languages. (I only spoke one.) Then thanked her when the pain subsided almost instantly.
She feigned surprise. “A thank you from Joe Channing. Maybe you’re right about the concussion. Or the change in timeline.”
We shared a laugh and an awkward stretch of silence before she slapped her thighs and stood.
“I’m gonna fit you with a sling. It’s important that you actually wear it because we need to keep your shoulder immobilized and rested. Ice will help with the swelling and aid the healing process in general. I have some mobility exercises printed up for you. You should start with those as soon as you can move without pain.”
Her eyes were everywhere but on me and the mask of professionalism hid the real her from view. It should have made me more comfortable, her slipping out of warmth and back into frigidity.
It didn’t.
I’d caught a glimpse of something I didn’t expect, and I wanted more of it.
After the sling was on and I gripped a swath of fluttering papers in my hand, we moved back into the waiting room. She fidgeted with the snack-laden table. A strange thing to find in the waiting room at a doctor’s office. Didn’t that violate some kind of health code?
“She set that up herself.” The receptionist appeared beside me, smiling so wide her eyes disappeared. It was the kind of smile you couldn’t see without grinning in return. “Keeps it stocked. Pays for it, too. Doctor Monroe is one of a kind.”
“I’ve…had similar thoughts myself.” True enough. Misleading, but true.
Clasping her hands in front of her heart, Dorothy lumbered over to Kennedy. They chatted in hushed whispers dressed in furtive glances, congratulated Tony on his improved snacking habits, then Kennedy gestured for me when it was time to leave. The drive home was quiet, though my mind was anything but.
“Is that why you had to move in with Maxine?” I finally asked, trying to make sense of a broke doctor. “Because you donate your time to a free clinic?”
Talk about shattering world views.
Light laughter lifted her brows. “I work for Key West Pediatrics during the day, which pays the bills. The clinic is…I don’t know. A way to make up for what I see at the day job.” She shrugged the statement away. “My apartment had a simultaneous flooding and bug infestation that needs addressed. That’s why I’m living with Nan.”
I bobbed my head, my focus locked on the road in front of us. “Makes sense.”
It didn’t.
Nothing about the day made sense.
Not a kind Kennedy. Not the lack of fire choking my heart when I looked at her. Not the way she interacted with everyone in that clinic. And certainly not a simultaneous flooding and bug infestation kicking her out of her apartment.
“Why’d you think I moved in with Nan? To keep an eye on you?” She turned to me with laughter that died in her throat. “You actually thought that, didn’t you?”
I shrugged. “Maybe a little.”
She shook her head and refocused on the road. “It’s not always about you, Joe Channing.”
I turned to watch the buildings rushing past the window, hiding a smile I didn’t want her to see.
Chapter Thirteen
Kennedy
Blue. Joe’s eyes were so blue they put a cloudless sky to shame. I’d wondered, and finally I knew. They mesmerized me. Eddies of light and dark swirled around the iris, hinting at depth and intelligence. I couldn’t stop staring, so I decided not to look at him at all. If Delores had misunderstood our bickering for chemistry, what would Joe think if I swooned over his beautiful blues every time our eyes met.
I pulled into my spot in Nan’s driveway and killed the engine. Wordlessly, we climbed out of the car and I followed him to the guesthouse, the lost puppy to his swaggering Bernese Mountain Dog. Injury-wise, I’d done everything I could, but my compulsion to do more kicked into overdrive as he absently rubbed the arm in the sling. Everything about my original opinions of the man had proved wrong.
The first time I saw him, I thought he was gonna rob the place. Wrong. He planned to fix it up for free.
The second time I saw him, I thought he was attacking Nan. Wrong. She wanted to show him her super cool Judo moves and despite his misgivings, he’d agreed.
My outrage over the bookshelves had been misplaced. He wasn’t swindling her. He was spoiling her.
I’d punched him. I’d almost pepper-sprayed him. I’d called him names. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Was there ever a time in my life I’d been so wrong? A quick perusal of my past said no.
I had a lot to make up for.
“I was thinking,” I said, as he pushed open the door and stepped inside, “it’s gonna be hard for you to work for the next couple days.”
“That’s very observant, Doctor Monroe.”
I followed him in, taken aback by all the boxes. “You have a lot of stuff.”
He pointed at the stack. “That would be all your grandpa’s stuff.” He waved his good hand toward a few pictures on the wall near his bed. “Those are mine. Not that much really.” He grimaced as I wandered over to stare at the photographs.
“Anyway, I was thinking…” I leaned in to study an image of him with his arm around a man in a ballcap. They were backlit, but the boots and jacket pegged Joe as Joe. The landmark reaching for the sky behind them was unmistakable. “You were in Paris?”