Ninety-Eight (Contemporary Romance) Read online

  “We need to get you back to the hospital then, that’s what the doctor said.” He bundled me up and into his car. Somewhere in the car I think I black out, because before I knew it I was back in the hospital, this time in the sitting room, feeling the room dance and sway in front of my eyes, little sparkly specks teasing my already queasy stomach.

  “I think I’m going to be sick.” I grabbed Victor’s shirt and pulled myself to my feet. I needed a bucket. Like now.

  “Hang on, Baby.” Victor helped me to the bathroom and held my hair back while I puked into the toilet, until my stomach was empty and then some. The dry heaves set my head to pounding a beat that felt as if it would explode inside my skull if I didn’t stop.

  Cold paper towel compresses on the back of my neck had never felt as good as in that moment and slowly the heaves settled and I was aware of the cold tile under my hands and knees. I swallowed hard several times, prayed that was the end of the vomiting. “Thanks, Vic.”

  “Hey, I take care of my girl.”

  I groaned, a spike of guilt tearing through me. Guilt for thinking badly of him, for comparing him to a man I didn’t even really know. I spun the ring on my thumb. Nana was right; I had to remember that above everything else.

  Again, he helped me to my feet and back to the waiting room. I stretched out across three chairs and put my head in his lap. Victor stroked my hair and I closed my eyes, sleep finally stealing me away from the tumult that had begun with a simple blow to the head.

  4

  THE NEXT FEW days I spent at home on the doctor’s orders. Dr. Winston gave me two days off, which ran into my normal three days off. Re-runs and pajamas were my world for five boring, long, headache-riddled days. My stitches itched, my head ached off and on, but there were no more dizzy spells.

  Funny enough, I got flowers from Fiona Upshaw, wishing me well in my speedy recovery. The flowers were gorgeous, bright pink and yellow roses interspersed with sprays of baby breath and carnations.

  “I hope that isn’t from a secret admirer?” Victor threw his brief case on the kitchen table next to the vase.

  I laughed, my mind darting to Darwin for a brief moment, wondering if he thought about me at all. Not that it mattered, not that he would be.

  “No, these are from Fiona.”

  “The girl who thinks she knows horses, but doesn’t?”

  Smiling, I nodded and touched the flowers. “They’re pretty, I don’t often get flowers anymore … .”

  “Not so subtle, Mrs. Babcock.” He scooped me up, the strain in his face obvious, and then he quickly put me down. I patted his arms.

  “Wasn’t trying to be subtle, and you can’t call me that yet. You have nearly three months before you can officially call me that.”

  He leaned in and kissed my cheek. I stayed still, wanting so badly to feel something more, something deeper when he kissed me, especially when his eyes lit up just from seeing me. Shouldn’t I be the same?

  What was wrong with me? Was this the cold feet everyone talked about? No, I didn’t think that was the case. I’d never been the kind of girl to get all mushy and gaga over a boy. So there was no reason to think it would be any different with Vic.

  I wanted to believe I didn’t know why this sudden lurch of my guts when I thought about marrying Victor had started. But the problem was, I did know. Sure, I’d been uncertain before, but that was nothing to the last five days and the near panic attacks that caught me off guard at the mere thought of the wedding.

  The reason, I was certain, was attached to a pair of violet blue eyes I struggled not to see on the inside of my eyelids. Which, as I reminded myself for about the thousandth time, was ridiculous.

  Silly.

  Childish.

  “I can get my stitches out tomorrow. Can you take me to the hospital?” I had to yell to be heard over the T.V., which Victor currently had on the movie channel on full volume.

  He glanced over his shoulder from where he sat on the couch. “No, I have meetings with clients all day. Can you get Penny to take you? She doesn’t have a steady job, surely she has the time.”

  If only it were that easy; Penny and I weren’t as close as we once were despite her phone call on my birthday. I picked up my cell and sent Penny a text, expecting nothing. She’d been my friend since I was a kid, but ever since high school, she’d been my party friend, the one I hung out with when I needed to let loose a little, not that I did that much anymore. Victor didn’t like dance clubs much. Penny, as much as she was always good for a laugh, wasn’t the kind of friend you could depend on for little things, like help getting to the hospital.

  Can you take me to the hospital tomorrow? I need my stitches out.

  Three seconds later she answered.

  Mayb. Wat time.

  I cringed at her typos.

  Early. Before noon.

  My fingers were crossed, but I wasn’t hopeful.

  Sory. Cant. Too erly.

  I put the phone down, not surprised.

  Fatigue washed over me, as I pulled up the bus schedule on my phone. Tomorrow was going to be long day.

  If only I had any idea what was in store for me.

  Apparently, the hospital was in a state of overload. When I got there, I counted at least thirty people ahead of me in varying states of illness and injury. I groaned and slumped into my chair, grabbing the first available magazine. Getting stitches out was no life threatening injury; I was going to be there for a long while.

  Hot Rods and Babes wasn’t exactly my cup of tea, but at least it was something. I hadn’t even thought to bring a book with me.

  “Thinking of starting a new career? Might be safer than wrestling with horses. Though I suppose that depends.”

  I jerked my head up to see Darwin smiling down at me. He wasn’t wearing his paramedic uniform, but was in a pair of well-fitted jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt that he’d pushed part way up his forearms. His everyday clothes accentuated the well-defined muscles that his paramedic uniform had only hinted at. Brick shithouse came to mind.

  I couldn’t stop the smile that slipped across my lips. “Depends on what?”

  He made a motion at the magazine. “If you’re driving, I’m thinking that would be pretty safe. But if you’re one of the babes on the hoods of the cars, might cause more accidents. You’d make a lot of work for me.”

  A faint curl of heat swept up through me. No, I would not respond to Darwin like that. I was engaged, to a good man. A man who held my hair when I puked my guts out. A man who loved me. A man with a good job and one that my nana would have approved of.

  “What are you doing back here?” His eyes swept the room, and I could almost see him counting the people in front of me.

  “The stitches can come out, so I am waiting. For what looks to be about three days.”

  “Hell, I can do that for you, come on.” He held out his hand to me and I took it without thinking, our fingers wrapping around one another, like magnets unable to resist the pull toward one another. With a gentle tug, he pulled me to my feet and led me past the nurse’s desk.

  “Jackie, I’m just going to take out the stitches for my friend here. You good with that?”

  The head nurse, her eyes heavy with fatigue, barely lifted her head. “You do whatever you want, Darwin, you will anyway.”

  “It’ll cut your work load down by one.” Darwin called over his shoulder as he pointed to a chair in a small triage room. I slid into the seat, tucking my hands between my knees. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  He chuckled as he pulled out a small set of scissors and a pair of tweezers, laying them on a fresh piece of gauze. “Nope, this is my first time.”

  I stood up. “Umm. What?”

  “I’m kidding.” He gave me a wink and I slowly lowered back into my chair. “Relax, this won’t take long and you’ll be back out there, wrangling naughty ponies.”

  I leaned back into the chair. “I don’t wrangle ponies. No, that’s not true. I o
nly wrangle them when the handler is an idiot.”

  His hands paused over the scissors. “You think the owner of that horse is an idiot?”

  “She just doesn’t know what she’s doing. I’m sure she’s a very nice person. When she isn’t around horses and isn’t insulting people. You know she insulted my boss, right to his face, said he wasn’t a real doctor. He had to go to school longer than most GP’s.”

  Darwin tipped my head away from him, his fingers on my chin. “Hold still like this, the light is better.”

  I licked my lips. “Is this going to hurt?”

  “You’ll barely feel it. Unless I do it wrong.” He snapped on a pair of surgical gloves, the crack of the gloves slapping onto his hands making me jump.

  I flicked my eyes to his, saw them dancing with laughter and relaxed again. “You are a terrible paramedic, you know that, don’t you?”

  Chuckling, he held my chin with one hand while he snipped the ties of the stitches. He was so close, that damn dimple was within an inch of my mouth. Not that for one second I was even thinking about kissing it.

  No. I was with—engaged to—Victor.

  “Are you okay? Is this hurting you?”

  “No, why?”

  “Your face is all scrunched up.”

  I cleared my throat but didn’t move. “I guess maybe a little, but not bad.”

  “Shit, I’m sorry, I should have let a doctor take these out.”

  He stepped back, his eyes clouded with regret. I put my hand out. “No, it’s fine, really. Just take them out.”

  Uncertainty flickered in his eyes.

  “Really,” I said. “It’s fine. I’m just being a baby.”

  His eyebrows rose up over those fascinating eyes, and I had to fight with myself not to stare at them.

  “I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

  Something in the way he said those words tightened the pressure between us. He leaned toward me, his hands steady as he plucked the last of the stitches out. “See, nothing to it.”

  But he didn’t pull back, and I knew it was a bad idea, but I reached up and touched that tantalizing dimple that pulled at me every time it flashed in his cheek. “Thanks.”

  Oh God, my voice was breathy. Bad, bad, this was not a good idea. I swallowed hard, saw him do the same as he cleared his throat and stood back up, pulling off the gloves. “You got a ride home?”

  Laughing to cover the quiver of nerves running through me, I nodded. “Yup, best transit bus in the county.”

  Darwin grimaced. “I can drop you off. I’m headed out your way.”

  “How do you know where I live?”

  “Think I’m stalking you?” He narrowed one eye at me, but he smiled at the same time, ruining what I was sure was an attempt at looking scary.

  “If you are, you aren’t doing a very good job at it.”

  Laughing, he shook his head. “I filled out your paperwork for you.”

  “And just happened to remember where I live?” I stood up and headed for the door.

  “I have a memory for dates, places, stuff like that.”

  We walked side by side out of the hospital, and though I hadn’t agreed to go with him, I found myself at his truck. A battered up old blue Chevy, with rust holes and a cracked windshield that had seen far better days.

  “I don’t know.” I eyed up the truck. “It doesn’t look particularly safe. I might end up back in the hospital again.”

  “You’ll miss out on the ride of your life.”

  I put my hands on my hips, refused to think of his words as anything but in the most literal of senses. “Ride of my life? I doubt that very much.”

  His lips quirked up, and his eyes snared mine with ease. “Wanna bet?”

  Oh, this was getting dangerous. Very, very dangerous. “What are we betting for?”

  He folded his arms across his chest, his long-sleeved shirt pulling tight over muscles I had no doubt could lift me with ease, without him even breaking a sweat. Even through the shirt, I could see lines of definition that beckoned to me to reach out and … .

  “Loser buys coffee,” he said, confidence filling his voice.

  I mentally berated myself. “And a donut. I want a donut too.” I couldn’t help it, couldn’t help falling into this—whatever it was growing between us.

  Friendship, he was becoming my friend and nothing else.

  Yes, I could live with that.

  “Donuts. Damn, I haven’t had a donut in years.” He opened his door, leaned across the seat and unlocked the passenger side. I climbed in, using the step up. The truck was jacked up, and once inside, I realized the exterior was just a front. All the paneling inside was new, pristine and sparkling aluminum. What was obviously not the original leather covered the bench seat and even still smelled like what it was: brand new.

  “Nice digs.” I ran my hand over the leather.

  “Wait till you hear this bad boy.”

  The engine turned over with a rumbling growl that vibrated up through the seats and floorboards. I turned to him, my eyebrows arching upward. “Really? Trying to prove something are we? Think the ladies will be impressed by your truck?”

  Laughing, he put the truck in gear. “Nah, I don’t need to prove anything. Nor am I into impressing the ladies.”

  His dimple winked at me and I leaned back in my seat, determinedly staring out my window. I would feel nothing more for this man than friendship. He was not trying to impress me; he’d just said so.

  Victor, I reminded myself, would never stray; he would never betray me in any way. And I would never betray him.

  “I really do love Victor.” I blurted out as Darwin pulled onto the highway.

  “And you felt the need to say that because … ?” His eyes never left the road as he began to weave in and out of traffic, the truck picking up speed incrementally.

  I swallowed, the strange embarrassment suffusing me, heating my face and making me sweat. “Because I want you to know that I am not the kind of girl who strings men along.”

  He looked at me then, violet eyes thoughtful. “You think that I was trying to make a move on you?”

  Oh. God. I stared back at him, the heat in me like nothing I’d ever felt before. “No. I just want to be clear. I like you, Darwin. But only as a friend.”

  His lips twitched. “Perfect. Because I’m pretty sure my wife wouldn’t be pleased if she thought I was making moves on my patients.”

  To say my jaw dropped would have been an understatement, as I’m pretty sure my chin hit the floorboards. He was married? I hadn’t seen a ring, but shit, of course he was. Darwin was gorgeous, funny, sweet, had rock hard biceps and dimple on top of all that. Of course he was married.

  So why did the pit of my stomach open up and try to swallow me whole? Why did I suddenly want to tell him to let me out, I’d walk the rest of the way home? I’d catch a bus, call a cab. Anything to put some space between us. Stupid, it was so damn stupid of me to feel this gut wrenching … betrayal. He was married; I was going to be in less than three months. We weren’t for each other as anything other than friends. Yet even as I soothed myself, the pain coursed through me, loss of something that could never be leaving me with the need to bury myself under my blanket and hide from the world.

  Stupid. I hated girls who pulled stunts like this, who said that they felt something they couldn’t deny. They were stupid and now I was being stupid.

  “Hey, you. You still with me?” His voice snapped me out of my shock-induced daze.

  I gave myself a little shake. “Yeah, still here.”

  He laughed and tapped the steering wheel with his fingers. “No, you were a million miles away. Where’d you go?”

  “Oh, a million miles away wouldn’t be far enough.” I said the words, bitterness coating my tongue, and immediately regretted them when I saw the flash of hurt on his face. Damn it. What was it about this guy that tied me up into these idiotic knots? Not that it mattered. Friends, we were friends. He was married. I was engage
d. To other people. I was happy; no doubt he was too.

  Just keep repeating that, Brielle, and pretty soon you’ll believe it.

  I plastered on a smile to cover my shock. “So, this isn’t really feeling like the ride of my life. I think you’re buying donuts, my friend.”

  His lips tipped downward into a mock frown. “Not the ride of your life? But how can that be?”

  Before I could answer, he swerved onto the off ramp and gunned the engine. Squeaking, I grabbed the handle above my head, adrenaline soaring. “I didn’t mean the last ride of my life!”

  Laughing, he handled the truck with ease and in a matter of minutes we were out on the country roads that snaked through the farmlands. White board fences ripped by us as he continued to push the truck. Alongside us, caught up in the unexpected race, thoroughbreds galloped in their fields, manes and tails streaming out behind them as they strained to keep up with the truck, giving up only when their fences came to an abrupt end.

  A T-intersection ahead of us was coming up fast, and Darwin wasn’t slowing down. “You’re going to get us killed,” I yelped, my fingers digging into the handle. I spared a glance for him.

  He was grinning from ear to ear. “You going to call it, are you wimping out on me?”

  “Hell no!”

  Laughing, he hit the intersection, dropping the truck into a lower gear and drifted through the corner, a billow of dust curling up around us. Before the air cleared, he’d punched the truck back into high gear and we were off again, racing down another line of fencing.

  We drove for almost an hour, spinning around corners, hitting dips and catching air. Was it the smartest thing I’d ever done, considering I’d only just started to get over my concussion? Probably not. But I didn’t care. The world around us was non-existent. Just me and Darwin, and I was having the freaking time of my life.

  “Ready to buy me donuts?” He smirked as we left the country roads and pulled back onto the highway.

  I held my hands up in mock surrender. “Yes, you win. I lose. Best ride of my life.”

  He reached over and grabbed my hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “Who was right?”