by Tina Beckett
“I was thinking that very same thing.” He paused, then decided to act on his earlier thoughts. It was time to move past the beach, at least for him. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”
“Uh-oh. Am I in trouble again?”
This time he allowed himself to fully smile. “No. I think I might be the one who’s in trouble, and I want to make things right.”
“You’re not. In trouble, that is. If you’re talking about the day at the beach, don’t worry about it. It was fun. Let’s just call what happened a minor hiccup.”
He’d hardly call that kiss a “hiccup,” but better that than turn it into a crisis that caused her to call it quits on the hospital. “It was fun. Coffee?”
“I don’t actually drink coffee, but a cup of tea might be nice. I’m due a lunch break anyway.”
“It’s almost three o’clock.”
This time she laughed. “That tone says it all. We’ve had a busy day in the ER. But don’t worry—I’ve only put in one hour more than usual today. But I am ready to get off my feet for a while.”
A few minutes later they were in the hospital cafeteria, and she had a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea between her hands. While he had her here, he decided to broach something that had been brought up by one of the auction committee members. It also provided a means to put things back on a solid footing between them. “Part of the reason I wanted to have coffee—or tea—with you is we need a few volunteers to help display the items that are being auctioned off. Are you interested?”
She blinked a time or two. “Helping with the auction? How?”
“Mostly just holding up the donations while the auctioneer describes them. If you can’t, I’ll certainly understand. I know it’s short notice.”
“It’s not that.”
“Worried that your ex might show up?”
“Let’s just say I’d rather not hold up the set of pearls while they’re being auctioned off.”
“Understandable. We’ll have a couple of people there rotating in and out, so we’ll be able to assign them to someone else.” He took a sip of coffee. “Oh, and just so you know, I bought a surfboard.”
She set her cup down on the table. “You did what?”
He had no idea why he’d just admitted that. But it seemed important somehow. Maybe he just needed her to know that he wasn’t a quitter. With their earlier discussion about his hand, he wondered if he’d come across that way, just resigning himself to life behind a desk. Maybe this was one way to show her. He could even offer to do a little more consulting in the neurology department.
Why was it suddenly so important, when he wouldn’t have even thought of doing so two or three months ago? He wasn’t sure—didn’t even want to question his motives too closely.
“I actually liked surfing. And since there is no snow here on South Beach...”
“Not much, no.” She reached across as if she was going to touch him. He even braced himself for contact, but she changed her trajectory at the last second, setting her hand flat on the table instead. “I’m so glad, Garret. It really is kind of addictive.”
Like her?
Not where he wanted his thoughts heading right now.
“I can see that it might be. I need to do some more practice on my—What is it called again?”
“Pop up. And you were already getting the hang of it. A few more trips into the surf and you’ll be well on your way.”
“I guess I should have asked about sharks when we were out there.”
It had been hard to think about anything that didn’t revolve around her, when they’d been on that beach. And watching her slim limbs as she’d demonstrated how to stand up and ride a wave hadn’t left room for worrying about anything but himself.
“There’s danger in everything. We just do whatever we can to minimize the risks.”
Minimize the risks.
The only way to do that with Addy was to avoid her entirely, and he wasn’t willing to do that. Even though he found himself hyperaware of everything she did, from the way her fingers curved around her teacup to the way a tiny dimple zipped in and out of sight on the corner of her mouth as she talked. It was fascinating, and he found himself watching and waiting for its next appearance.
Not good, Garret.
He was supposed to be here scoping things out, hoping that the patches of quicksand had dried up.
And if they hadn’t?
“We weren’t wearing wetsuits, so there’s not much danger of looking like a tasty seal snack to them, right?”
“Even those who wear them don’t have much trouble. There’s an occasional bite, but very few fatalities. I’ve been surfing most of my life, and I still have all my limbs. Just pay attention to the surfing conditions. There are several apps you can use.”
“Okay, I’ll do that.”
“Good. Now, as far as holding up the auction items, please tell me I don’t have to dress up like a game-show host and suddenly become graceful and beautiful.”
She already was both of those, but to say it would be the same as ignoring those surf conditions she’d just talked about. These were dangerous waters full of riptides and crosscurrents. One wrong move and—
“No, just wear whatever you normally would to the auction.”
“Why am I remembering the words ‘black tie’?”
“Because it is?”
She groaned. “Ugh. That’s not my cup of tea at all. I’m a true tomboy at heart.”
A tomboy who surfed and looked totally at home on the water. He liked that. A little too much.
“You’ve been here longer than I have. Are you telling me you’ve never gone to one of these events?”
“Um, I’m a tomboy? Remember? I tend to stick to the donating side of things.”
He’d assumed she was going to the fund-raiser or he never would have asked her to participate. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you weren’t planning to be there.”
“It’s okay. It’s about time I went to one. It’s easy to forget about all the efforts that go into keeping this hospital in operation.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am. If you can take up surfing, I can certainly make an appearance at the auction.” She smiled and took another sip of her tea. “It seems we’re both moving a little bit beyond our comfort zones.”
“It appears so. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”
“Oh, it’s a good thing, Garret. A very good thing.”
CHAPTER SIX
ADDY KNOCKED ON the door to his office, even though Garret had told her to just go in and lay the auction participation form on his desk.
Knocking one more time to be sure, she opened the door and tiptoed into his office, which was ridiculous. He wasn’t here, so there was no need to be quiet. She would just drop the paper on his desk and leave.
Laying the signed sheet in the very center of his desk, she was amazed by how clean it was. Nothing was on it but a three-tray wire rack, a pencil cup, a lamp and three rubber spheres the size of tennis balls. Each one was a different color and had a ring at one end of it. That was odd. She’d never noticed those before. Stress balls?
If so, why three of them? He only had two hands. Maybe they were something for the auction. She touched one, something about them striking a tone in her memory banks. Where had she seen these before?
She froze. She’d seen them down in physical therapy. Something in her throat caught as she realized these were not stress balls at all. They were exercise balls for the hand. The ring went over the middle finger to keep the ball from being dropped by someone with a poor grip.
She was pretty sure these hadn’t been on his desk the last time she’d been in here. He must have forgotten to put them away. She picked one up, allowing the rubber to sit in the middle of her palm. It was heavier than she’d expected.
“Having fun?”
Oh, God. Her eyes closed.
What had she been thinking? This was something very private, and for her to have handled them...
She turned to face him.
“Sorry, I actually thought they were something for the auction until I—”
“Until you—?”
He wasn’t going to help her wiggle her way out of this. She was supposed to have come into his office, dropped that paper on his desk and then turned around and walked out. Instead, she’d given herself license to explore, something he hadn’t invited her to do.
“Until I remembered where I’d seen something similar.” Her chin tilted. “I didn’t realize you were still working on strengthening your hand. I’m glad.”
It was the truth.
“I don’t know why I got them out. They’ve pretty much done all they’re going to do.”
She set the ball in her hand next to the others, while Garret went around and sat in his chair.
“Is that what you told your patients? ‘Well, six months of therapy hasn’t helped. You might as well give up.’”
“Try four years.”
She swallowed. Somehow she hadn’t realized it had been that long since his accident. But, of course, he’d been at the hospital for three years, so the timing sounded right.
She picked up the ball she’d discarded. “Why keep them at all, if you’re so sure they can’t help?”
An irritable shrug was her answer. “Maybe as a reminder.”
“You know what I think?”
“Are you going to tell me either way?” A muscle in his cheek told her to tread carefully, but, unlike him, Addy tended to wear her heart on her sleeve.
She said what she thought. “I think there’s still a part of you that wants to help patients. I saw it in your eyes when you looked at Matthew.”
“Oh, so you can read my thoughts now, can you?”
“No, but I know how I would feel if I were in your position.”
“Do you?” He laid both hands on top of his desk. One of them spread flat; it became one with the surface it was on. The other hand sat awkwardly in a half crouch. Garret pushed down hard with it, the knuckles whitening, lines of pain forming on his face.
“Stop it.”
He let the tension out of the damaged fingers and they went back to the way they were. “You’re not in my position, though, are you? So you can’t know how I do or don’t feel.”
She’d made him angry. That hadn’t been her intent. Actually, she hadn’t been going to say anything about the strengthening balls at all, except he’d caught her with one in her hand.
But, dammit, his life wasn’t over, and for him to act as if it were was just—
Infuriating.
“You need to get a grip.” She tossed the ball at him. He caught it with ease with his good hand. “In more ways than one. Use those. Maybe they won’t make a difference in what you can or can’t do, but they can keep you from losing the gains from whatever therapy you’ve had.”
All the caged emotion seemed to drain out of him in an instant. “Maybe you do know after all.”
“I don’t, Garret.” She went around the desk and touched his shoulder. “I truly don’t. But don’t settle for something less than what your heart wants.”
“And if my heart wants something it can’t have?”
She knew all about that. She’d give anything to talk to her mom one more time. And for her mom to recognize her as her daughter. But that wasn’t going to happen. Garret wasn’t faced with that kind of useless wishing. He could still salvage his situation into something good.
“Then find a compromise,” she said. “Something that gives you purpose and meaning.”
He stood and faced her. “You think I don’t have that with my current job?”
“I don’t know.” She nodded toward the therapy balls. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do. You have to decide that for yourself.”
He stared down at her for a long moment, a series of emotions moving across his face. Unexpectedly, he cupped her cheek, the warmth of his hand sifting into her system.
Shock held Addy completely still, her lungs filled with air she didn’t dare release. He leaned down and brushed his lips across her cheek in the lightest of touches. Then he was gone, moving halfway across the room to where a leather sofa and two chunky chairs sat. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Thank you, Addy. For believing in the impossible.”
“Hey, you didn’t think you could surf either.” She smiled, although her system was still a wobbly mess over that kiss. A kiss that hadn’t even touched her lips, but had moved her more deeply than the one on the beach. Because the beach kiss had come from a place of physical attraction. Lust, even. And this one? It had come from the heart.
She’d never had anything like that with Leo. They’d had the lust. They’d had what she’d thought was love. But moments like this had been absent.
And, boy, she’d better be careful about where she allowed this to carry her. Having a harmless crush was one thing. Letting it grow into anything deeper?
Well, that was something entirely different. The next time she got involved with a man, she wanted things to go slow. She wanted to take her time and make sure she got it right. Make sure she knew everything about her partner.
And Garret was still her boss. She had no business getting into a relationship—no, not a relationship, an infatuation-ship—with him.
“The jury is still out on the surfing. But I’m going to practice.” He opened his palm to show the ball she’d tossed him a few seconds ago. He put it into his damaged hand and contracted his fingers.
He was going to practice more things than surfing. At least, she hoped that was what he meant by his actions.
A smile played on her lips. She was suddenly happy, and she wasn’t sure why. But right now she didn’t care. All that mattered was he wasn’t giving up.
“I would ask for a high five, but I think that’s part of what got us in trouble last time.”
“Hmm, I disagree. I think it was the bikini.”
She laughed. “I think it was the shirt.”
“The shirt?”
“Well, let’s just say it was the lack of a shirt.”
He blinked, then gave a grin that went straight up her spine and lodged in the part of the brain that housed her emotions.
“Well, unless we want to get ourselves in trouble again, maybe we’d better confine our talk to something besides our clothes.”
Her happiness turned into a sense of giddy euphoria. She should stop, just as he’d said, but she couldn’t resist one last riposte.
“Ha, Dr. I-can’t-take-the-heat-so-I’m-getting-out-of-the-kitchen Stapleton, I’ll take that as my cue to leave.”
He took a step forward and her eyes widened, but he didn’t stop in front of her. He went to the door instead.
“Oh, I can take the heat just fine.” Even as he said it, he twisted the knob and opened the door. “It’s just not the right place. Or the right time.”
She went out throwing him what she hoped was a saucy smile, even though, inside, her heart was shivering with a new kind of heat. Garret wanted her.
And, Lord help her, she wanted him too.
* * *
Just as Adelina was getting ready to head out for the night, her purse already slung over her shoulder, an elderly woman hobbled into the emergency room, using a walker. Glancing past her, Addy looked for whoever had brought her in, but there was no one, unless that person was parking the car.
They’d had a few people trickle in this evening, but it hadn’t been enough to take her mind off what had happened in Garret’s office.
He was going to keep trying? Because of what she’d said?
She was giving herself way too much credit.
“I need a doctor.”
Addy prayed Garret was already gone and wouldn’t come down here. “I’m a doctor. What seems to be the problem?”
“It’s not for me. It’s for my husband.”
She again glanced toward the door. “Is he in the car?” She didn’t see how the woman could have driven a vehicle. She was barely able to keep herself upright. That was when she realized the woman was wearing a stained bathrobe rather than street clothes.
“Can’t you see him? He’s right here.”
She swallowed. “What’s your name?”
“He’s right here. You’re just not looking hard enough. His name is Daniel Lloyd Trentford. And I’m Marilyn Trentford.”
A nurse came through the doors. She looked at Addy in open puzzlement.
“Can you look up a chart for me? Marilyn Trentford.”
“Right away.”
The woman gave her walker a little thump against the floor. “It’s not for me, I told you. It’s for my husband. He’s ill.”
Addy nodded and motioned Marilyn to follow her. “Let’s take him back to an exam room, then, shall we?”
Waiting patiently as the woman made her way into the back, she intercepted the nurse, who spoke in low tones. “I overheard part of your conversation. I looked up her chart, and she does have a husband. But his name is Ben, not Daniel.” There was a moment’s hesitation. “Marilyn was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s three years ago.”
Addy’s fingers curled into her palm as a spear of pain arced through her.
“You’re sure.”
“I am, sorry.”
She might actually need Garret’s help for this one, if he was still here. “Can you see if Dr. Stapleton is in his office, while I get Mrs. Trentford into a room? And call the number she has listed and see who answers the phone.” She was afraid if she said Ben’s name, the woman might grow agitated.
Once she was in a room, she proceeded to get vitals on Marilyn, even though she protested that she wasn’t the one who needed a doctor. Everything seemed normal, although her blood pressure was a little low. Addy also wanted to check for a urinary tract infection, since that could cause confusion in some elderly patients. If she had Alzheimer’s, though, that was probably the cause of what basically amounted to a hallucination.
