Fatty Patty (A James Bay Novel) (40 page)

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Home less than twelve hours and already she was a wreck. If she’d known there would be no coffee in the house, she never would have made the journey north without stocking up on her favorite beans. How could her mother have given up caffeine and switched to herbal tea without saying a word?

“You need to take the next right,” Irene Gallagher said from the passenger seat.

“I haven’t been gone that long, Mom,” Rose teased. “I think I still remember how to find the hospital.”

Irene clung to her shoulder seat belt as they rounded the corner. “You might want to slow down, sweetheart. My car isn’t used to going so fast.”

Since when was doing twenty in a twenty-five mile-per-hour zone fast? Rose eased her foot off the accelerator and shot her mother a smile. Her best I-haven’t-had-a-cup-of-coffee-since-yesterday-morning-but-I’m-not-complaining-YET smile.

“Watch out!” Irene gasped.

The cherry-red pickup loomed before them out of nowhere. Rose clutched the wheel and slammed on the brakes, but too late to stop the aging sedan. It smashed into the rear of the pickup. The grill crumpled flat against the gleaming bumper like a child’s accordion.

“Mom?” Rose twisted in her seat and winced as the seat belt cut into her shoulder. She struggled to free herself. “Mom, are you hurt?”

“I think I’ll live,” Irene said with a grimace. “Too bad the same can’t be said for my car.”

Or his truck. Rose cringed as the driver slid from his pickup and leveled her with a furious glare. Who could blame him? She was the one at fault.

“Cecilia Rose? I can’t… I think my seat belt is stuck.”

“Let me try.” She blinked back tears as she pushed aside her mother’s fumbling fingers and grappled with the belt. One second of carelessness and look what had happened. All three of them could have been killed. Rose blinked harder but everything stayed a blur. The seat belt wouldn’t unlock. “I’ll come around your side and get you out.”

Cutting the engine, she scooted from behind the steering wheel. Brilliant revolving lights registered against gleaming metal as her sandals connected with hot asphalt.

“Whoa, not so fast,” a deep male voice rumbled. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Rose glanced up into a determined face steeled with resolve. The driver of the pickup looked hot under the collar.

“That’s my brand-new truck you hit.”

“I—”

“Somebody should teach you how to drive.”

She swallowed hard. “I’m very sorry—”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it.” He blew hard and shook his head. “Do you know how long I’ve had that truck? Two weeks and two days… and some woman takes me out in broad daylight in the middle of summer. Wintertime, I might understand, but—”

Some woman? Rose felt her own temper rising. He had some nerve. She wouldn’t have hit him if he hadn’t stopped so fast.

“This wasn’t all my fault.” Her words rushed between them. “You had no business stopping in the middle of the road without warning.”

His eyes narrowed. “There’s a stop sign at that corner, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“There is not,” she shot back.

“See for yourself.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

Rose glanced past him, then swallowed hard as she spotted the gleaming red stop sign. Her face flushed. Since when had this intersection become a four-way stop? Obviously since the last time she’d been home.

“Looks like you’ve got a little explaining to do.” He ticked off the offenses on his fingertips. “Failure to yield, following too close, plowing into my truck—”

“It’s not like I did it on purpose.” Her face felt hotter than the metallic red paint on his pickup. “I was distracted—”

“Doing what? Putting on your lipstick?”

She forced down an angry rejoinder. “I didn’t see you.”

He shot her a shrewd smile. “Another one to add to the list. Careless driving.”

Rose steamed. The last thing she needed was to stand around arguing with some local yokel. She’d been taught how to drive by the best. Her own dad had been the instructor behind the wheel of the drivers’ training car. “For your information, I am an excellent driver.”

“I’d say that’s up for debate,” he drawled, staring at her with a look of amusement that caused a slow burn in the pit of her stomach. “We’ll let the police figure things out. I called them from my truck. They should be here any minute.”

“Fine.” She shoved her hands in her pockets and glared at him. What a morning. A late start, no coffee, topped off by running—literally—into this idiot. It would serve him right if the Chief of Police himself showed up at the scene. Not that she expected special favors from local law enforcement, but Chief Dennis and her dad had been good friends. Small-town connections and a friendly face couldn’t hurt.

“I hope you’ve got your license handy.” He reached in his back pocket and drew out his wallet. “You wouldn’t want them to add driving without a license to the list of offenses.”

“Of course I have my license. Plus proof of insurance and registration. They’re in the glove compartment. See for yourself.” She gestured toward her mother’s car—

Irene Gallagher waved through the front window.

“Oh, no.” Rose’s words hung like a sodden towel put out to dry in the hot June sunshine.

His eyebrows arched in a question mark. “Something wrong?”

“You might say that.” Shamefaced, she nodded toward the vehicle.

He craned his neck and peered through the driver’s side window. Irene’s smile widened as she wiggled her fingers and gave him a little nod.

“Who’s that?”

“My mother.” Rose whirled on heel and headed for the passenger door. “Her seat belt is stuck.”

“It probably jammed from the force of impact.” His words floated from somewhere close behind. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“You didn’t exactly give me a chance.” She leaned in the passenger seat and wrestled with the seat belt.

“Are you hurt, ma’am?” He crouched low beside the car. “Do you need an ambulance?”

“Thank you, young man, but there’s no need for that.”

“Looks like you could use a hand.” He nudged in closer to Rose. “Let me help.”

“Forget it,” Rose muttered. “I can do it myself.” A stranger offering assistance was a rarity in her world. Who did that anymore? He never would have stopped if she hadn’t plowed into his truck.

Then again, if she hadn’t hit him, there would have been no need for him to stop. It was her fault they were in this mess. Rose struggled harder, trying to unravel the twisted belt. If only he would get out of her way, she could fix things just fine.

“Sweetheart, perhaps it would be better if you let the young man try,” Irene said after a moment.

“I’ve almost got it, Mom.” Sweat beaded on her forehead but she wasn’t about to give up. Not when she almost had things free. Not with him standing so close behind.

“Oh, Lord,” Irene gasped. “Look at that smoke.”

Billowing white smoke poured from underneath the hood. Rose sucked in a deep breath. The hair on the back of her neck bristled. “Come on, come on!” She gave the seat belt a desperate yank.

“Let me do it.” He pushed past her to fill the passenger door and in an instant, the belt clicked free. “Ma’am? Think you can put your arms around my neck?”

Rose bit her lip. A hurried glance showed a tall, solid man with burnished blond hair, a steady gaze and arms that could easily cradle her mother. But with that knee so swollen and inflamed, one wrong move could mean intense pain.

“Be careful. She has a bad knee and can’t move fast…”

In one fluid movement, Irene was up, out, and safe on the sidewalk.

“Would you mind grabbing her cane? It’s in the back seat.” Rose had no intention of going anywhere near the car. The way that smoke looked, the vehicle would soon be fully engulfed in flames.

There wasn’t even a chance to thank him as he handed over the cane. Already he was at the front of the car, fumbling around the grillwork. In one quick swoop, he had the hood up. White smoke rushed from the engine, filling the hot summer air with even more heat. Rose eyed him as he labored under the hood. He didn’t appear ruffled in spite of the rolling smoke. She shivered, remembering some of those videos on late night television where the cars suddenly burst into flames.

She backed farther away onto the grass and squeezed her mother’s hand.

“Think I found your problem,” he called after a moment. “Looks like the radiator hose broke.”

“Would you please get away from there?” she urged. They’d exchanged words but that didn’t mean he deserved to be roasted and toasted in front of their eyes. “Before the whole thing goes up in flames?”

“Calm down, the car isn’t on fire.” He stepped back from the hood and nodded at the muddy green fluid pooling on the street. “See that? Antifreeze on the exhaust manifold. That’s what caused the smoke. It’ll stop once the antifreeze runs out.”

Rose scowled at the ten-year-old sedan Irene refused to part with. No doubt about it. The two of them were going to have a come-to-Jesus meeting about buying a new car before she left town. Maybe after today her mother would be ready to see the light.

He squatted next to his pickup and examined the rear end. Rose kicked herself mentally and held back a sigh. He hadn’t been kidding about his vehicle. It looked like it still belonged on the showroom floor. Dollar signs ca-chinged in her head. There went her insurance rates. She should have paid more attention while driving. She should have listened to her mother’s words of caution. Rose took a deep breath and steeled herself for the news. “How bad is it?”

“You rammed the trailer hitch. Looks like it got a little scratched, but no big deal.”

“Thank God no one was hurt,” Irene ventured. “You can always buy a new car, but you can’t replace the people you love.”

He joined them on the sidewalk. “The tow truck should be here soon.”

“I suppose you called that in, too?” Rose said without thinking.

He cocked his head and flashed her a slow grin. “I did. The wrecker is on its way.”

She eyed the swirling lights atop his pickup. Streets up north were filled with vehicles touting light bars. Maybe he made his living plowing snow. Maybe he owned the wrecker service, too.

“Let me know when you get it to the shop.” Rose fumbled through her purse and fished for her wallet. “Will you take a personal check?”

“Nope.” He wiped the oily dirt from his hands onto his clean jeans.

“I’m not sure how much cash I have.” He had been a big help but this was no time to be playing games.

“I don’t want your money.”

He met her gaze head on with one eyebrow raised and a steady smile.

Rose straightened and pulled her purse strap tighter. Mr. Big-Truck should keep his eyes to himself instead of on her. Did he actually think she would flirt with him over a towing bill? If so, he had another think coming.

“I’ll give you my mother’s address. You can send the bill there and I’ll stop by your shop and pay it.”

“You will, hmmm?”

“Isn’t that what I said?” She swallowed down a flash of impatience. “Just tell me where I can find you.”

The beginning of a smile tugged at his mouth. “Okay, if that’s what you want. You’ll find me down at the fire station next to City Hall. You’re welcome to drop by… but only if you want to say hello.”

“What—?” She sputtered as her fingers gripped the soft leather of her wallet.

“He said he doesn’t want your money, sweetheart. Isn’t that right, young man?”

“Yes, ma’am.” His face relaxed as he nodded at Irene. “Just doing my job.”

Rose shifted on her feet. “But I thought you—”

“Owned the wrecker service? Not me,” he said, nearly laughing now. “I’m a fireman.”

She wanted to melt right into the pavement. After three years of practicing law, she knew better than to pass judgment on face value. A fireman. That explained the brilliant white and red lights swirling emergency warnings from the top of his pickup. She made a rapid reappraisal of the stranger beside them.

A fireman, a public servant—dedicated and committed, willing to help when needed, whether on or off duty. And from the look of his crisp jeans and dark blue t-shirt, he wasn’t on duty today. A solid body with strong arms that could haul a fire hose, a thatch of thick blond hair razor clean against his neck, a sunburned tinge of red skin at the collar of his t-shirt.

She tried to keep her gaze from trailing any lower before he noticed she was staring.

“I’m sorry about everything. I mean, hitting your truck and for the way I acted. And I’m sorry I was short with you.” Rose rushed the words. It was easier to apologize if you did it fast.

“Ditto.” His face softened. “Guess I came across pretty strong myself. I just got this truck a couple weeks ago. You could say it’s my baby.” He squinted against the high morning sun. “You aren’t going to be able to drive that car. I’d be glad to give you ladies a ride once the police finish up.”

Rose eyed the shiny pickup. His vehicle was much too high for her mother to manage… not to mention fodder for the rumor mill probably now in full swing. Three cars had already slowed in the past five minutes, giving their little group a leisurely once-over. In James Bay, anything was fair game. The gossip would be flying by nightfall. And the sight of no wedding band on his left hand only made matters worse.
Knowing this town, they’ll have us married off by morning.

“I doubt my mother can climb inside.” The tug of regret she felt refusing his offer of assistance caught Rose by surprise.

“It’s this darn knee,” Irene explained with a faint smile. “I’m having surgery tomorrow. Rose was taking me to the hospital for an EKG.” She latched on to his forearm. “You are a real hero, young man. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t stopped and put out the fire.”

“It wasn’t a fire, ma’am, just the radiator.” The fireman’s face reddened with each passing minute. “I didn’t do anything.”

Correction.
He’d been nice enough to help, considering she’d nearly wrecked his brand-new truck. Plus, she really liked the way he smiled. Rose stepped forward and gently pried her mother’s hand loose. “It’s not like he had much choice, Mom. I hit him, remember?”