Pete’s eyes darted around the lobby and finally landed on Calder. “Where is he?”
“Pop’s fine, Pete—just relax,” Calder said, hands out in the hopes of slowing his brother’s angry charge for the check-in desk.
“Don’t tell me to relax, dammit.”
Marie touched her husband’s arm to calm him. “Baby, please.”
“What?” Pete demanded. “I’m just so sick of this crap.”
“I know you are,” said Calder. “We are all. That’s why we need to get Pop help.”
“
Pop
?” Pete squinted at him. “I’m not talking about Pop. I’m talking about these damn doctors who want to bring him in here at the drop of a hat just to milk more money out of us on tests he doesn’t need!”
Calder blew out a ragged breath. Christ. He wasn’t rested enough to travel this tired road with his brother tonight.
“Wait here, Mare, I’ll go get him,” Pete said, taking Marie by the elbow and pointing her to the square of chairs to their left.
Marie did as she was told but when she looked at Calder he could see the discomfort in her eyes; he knew she hated these scenes more than anyone.
Pete started for the recovery rooms but Calder stepped in his path. “Hold up. They’re not releasing him just yet. They want to keep him here a while for observation.”
Pete cast a condemning look toward the reception desk. “Just so they can pad the frigging bill, right?”
Calder glanced back to the attending nurses behind the curved counter; young, caring women he’d gotten to know during the shifts he’d picked up here in the past few months. They gave him understanding smiles but it didn’t temper his annoyance with his brother.
He turned back to Pete and said firmly, “Cool it, okay? Everyone here works their asses off taking care of people like our father. This isn’t some damn conspiracy.”
“Says you,” Pete muttered, searching past Calder. “Where’s Greg? I want to talk to him—hey, Greg!” Pete found their friend by the soda machine and stormed toward him. “What the heck, man? Why didn’t you just bring him back to the house?”
“Pete, your dad was passed out,” Greg said, his hands raised pleadingly. “I thought he might have had a stroke or something.”
“He’s just tired,” Pete said. “That’s all it is. He’s seventy-three years old and he works all damn week and he’s tired. Since when is falling asleep a crime?”
When someone falls asleep in a parking lot at three am with a blood alcohol of point three, that’s when, Calder could see Greg wanted to say but didn’t. Instead, Greg just looked at Calder, his old friend’s weary eyes blinking with bewilderment. Pete’s denial was becoming as well-known in their small town as their father’s fondness for alcohol.
“Look, Pete…” Greg leaned in, his voice low. “Just be glad it was me who brought him in and not Reggie or Frank,” he said, referring to Magnolia Bay’s deputies.
Pete glowered. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Greg sighed and patted Calder’s arm. “I’ll see you later, man.”
“Thanks again, Greg,” Calder said as the security guard walked away and exited through the glass doors.
“What the hell are you thanking him for?” Pete demanded.
“Because he might have saved Pop’s life, that’s why.” Calder steered his brother away from the desk. “Greg isn’t the problem here. He’s not the one you should be mad at.”
“No shit,” Pete said low, shooting Calder a condemning look before he stormed off down the corridor to find George Frye.
* * *
Three hours later, Calder helped load their father into Pete’s truck, gave Marie a hug goodnight, and watched the pick-up’s taillights slip out of sight.
It was almost six, close to dawn. The roof of stars on his way here was gone, muted by the coming light of morning. Exhausted as he was, he’d love nothing more than to stay up and watch the sun rise from his deck. It was damn rare for him to find himself awake—and not in an ER—at this hour.
Driving home, the crisis past, he turned on a Jack Johnson CD and let his thoughts slide into kinder, easier places.
The pound of freshly-caught shrimp his buddy Chad had dropped off yesterday…
Going for a hard run by the water…
The motorcycle ride he hoped to take in the next few days…
Thea Dunn
…
His drifting thoughts came into sharp focus.
He shook his head at the road. Of all the crazy things. She’d been the last person he’d expected to see coming around the corner of the condo that afternoon. The look of shock on her face—first, that he’d recognized her, second, that he was a doctor—stuck with him.
Of course, other images stuck with him more.
Those yoga pants painted on those long legs.
That t-shirt that was nearly see-through when she stepped into the sun.
That smile.
That lacy, pink bra.
Those lips.
He shifted in his seat and forced his mind back on the drive. But with nothing but the empty road in front of him and a warm breeze coming in from both sides, distraction came again.
Did she remember that night they ditched prom together? He certainly did; remembered it as if it were yesterday. One night, out of thousands; it shouldn’t have stuck with him, but it did.
She’d become a lawyer. Just like she’d vowed that night. That was serious work, but then, she’d always been a pretty serious girl—which was why he’d gotten such a kick out of her decision that night to hike up her prom dress, hop on his bike and join him for greasy burgers at Al’s. She’d been pissed off at her boyfriend, Calder had known that was the real reason she’d come with him, but still Calder had wondered if there wasn’t more to it. Every time he’d suggested taking her home, she’d come up with a reason to stay on. She’d even dared him to go skinny-dipping when they passed the beach but changed her mind at the last minute, deciding to wade in her dress instead.
Later that night, when they’d pulled to the shoulder to dry off and watch the stars over the bay, she’d looked at him like she’d wanted him to kiss her—the kind of hard, deep kiss that changes futures—but he hadn’t. For a long, long time afterwards, he’d regretted being such a damn gentleman.
And now she was living beside him.
And still hot.
She hadn’t been single then—who was to say she was now? And if she was, she was only his next-door neighbor temporarily
Not that he was opposed to something short-term. If he’d learned anything from the nomadic life of an ER doctor, you had to seize the moment and make the most of every opportunity for a relationship, even if it only meant a few months. Of course, most women wanted more commitment than that—and he could understand that. Hell, it wasn’t as if he didn’t want to settle down himself eventually. But for now, his job was his life and he loved what he did. But he loved women too, so until the day came when he could see staying in one place for longer than a year at a time, he’d make room for both.
Even if there was, at the moment, more room in his bed than in his heart.
Chapter Three
Despite
not setting the alarm, Thea woke at her usual six-thirty and couldn’t get back to sleep. Her iPhone lay on the nightstand, within reach, but she refused to pick it up. After all, she was on vacation. What did she care how many emails she had?
She looked at the clock and told herself she had to stay in bed until at least seven, but after ten minutes of staring at the ceiling, she rose and made coffee, toasted herself a frozen waffle and took it out to the deck, setting herself a place at the wicker table and forcing herself to eat slowly instead of her usual stuff-gulp-and-chase-with-coffee-before-the-meeting style of dining.
When she was done eating, she washed her dishes. Then she sat on the couch and flipped through the morning news shows.
She read a magazine.
She rearranged her toiletries and make-up in the bathroom.
She read
another
magazine.
By ten-fifteen, she was ready to jump out of her damn skin.
What was wrong with her? This was not how normal people behaved on their vacations! Normal people slept in, normal people stayed in their pajamas until noon, normal people sat out on their decks with a book and refused to come up for air until they’d finished it.
Normal people didn’t care what time it was because they had nowhere to be and they loved it!
It was official: She was
not
normal.
No wonder she hadn’t used up her vacation time in years. Her idea of a vacation was working alone in the office on Sunday and ordering up take-out from her favorite sushi restaurant down the block.
She dropped into the couch with a loud groan, stared at her phone on the coffee table and reached over to pick it up, feeling a swift burst of relief as she logged into her email account, then a flutter of disappointment when Dennis’ name didn’t appear in the long list of senders. Not that she expected to hear from him. She’d made it clear she didn’t want to. He was merely doing what she’d asked, right?
“He’s a creep and a bore, Thee.”
Willa’s assessment the night before rang in Thea’s thoughts.
It was true. Dennis Connolly wasn’t exactly a firestorm of excitement—but he
was
an accomplished attorney who was on his way to making partner, and they’d made a good team. Everyone in their professional circle had said so. They’d been the golden couple, singled out for their union at holiday parties and company functions, and Thea had relished the status.
But no, Dennis wasn’t exciting.
Maybe Thea didn’t want that kind of exciting? That kind of exciting was for teenagers who had nothing better to do than spend their days figuring out ways to get alone so they could fool around, or how they could score some alcohol to get drunk around a bonfire on the beach and make out on the dunes.
She was a grown-up, for God’s sake. She just wanted predictability, stability. Maybe there were more important things in life than—what had Willa called it?—loud, sweaty, up-against-the-wall, knock-pictures-off-their-hooks sex?
Thea sunk back into the cushions and sighed. The fact was she didn’t have any of it now. No stability, no Dennis. And definitely no chance at hot, sweaty sex.
Had she ever had that kind of sex with Dennis?
“I’ll bet Doctor Bad Boy next door could prescribe some serious love medicine…”
Thea sat up and trained her eyes on her laptop in the corner of the room, certain she was staring at her computer the way a starved dog stares at a butcher shop’s window.
Maybe just a few minutes catching up on work couldn’t hurt? After all, if she put out a few fires now she wouldn’t have as many to face when she got back to work in two weeks, right? And maybe, too, if she worked a bit, she’d feel more relaxed, more free.
It was worth a shot, wasn’t it?
She retrieved her computer and the stack of case files she’d brought with her and carried them outside, setting up on the glass-topped wicker table.
Computer on, notebook open, pen uncapped, coffee warmed; there, she thought, surveying her make-shift desk with a satisfied smile. An office with a view of the bay.
Who could accuse her of being a vacation-flunkie now?
* * *
Two hours and another pot of coffee later, Thea pushed back from the unsightly mess of papers she’d managed to cover the table with and stretched. The air was growing thicker now that the morning’s cool was giving way to midday heat. She tethered her hair into a high ponytail and wiped at the fine layer of sweat she’d earned from all of her concentration in full sun.
Now and then, while she’d pored over paper documents and scrolled through digital ones on her laptop, she’d glanced at the trellis divider, imagining she heard stirrings on the other side. Would Calder emerge at all today, she wondered? Did a long shift in the ER merit the same hours of rest? Lying in bed that morning, trying to force herself back to the sleep, she’d heard a car pull into his driveway. But when she’d rolled over and peeked through the blinds, the garage door was already closed. A girlfriend, probably. Surely the visitor would emerge eventually?
Or not.
Thea reached for her coffee and grinned as she blew across the top. If she had been lucky enough to share a bed with Calder Frye, she wouldn’t have come out—or up—for air, either.
But just in case, Thea had
made sure to give her outfit more than a passing consideration this morning and traded her t-shirt and yoga pants for a coral sundress. After yesterday’s unfortunate ensemble, she wasn’t about to get caught with her pants down again.
Thea snickered at the phrase as she set down her coffee. Willa would have had a field day with that one!
“I didn’t know law briefs were good for a laugh.”
Thea looked up to find Calder Frye climbing the lawn toward her deck in a t-shirt and gym shorts, sweaty and slightly winded, clearly back from a run. So that was how he kept his body so hard when so many of their classmates had softened like sticks of butter.