The Wingman

by Natasha Anders

  “We’ll figure it out,” Mason soothed. “Don’t worry. Once the Redwoods are sorted, everything else will fall into place.”

  An hour later they all stared at the completed chart in awe with Mason looking just a tad smug. Lia gasped, clutched her hands to her chest, and burst into tears.

  It was almost comical the way Mason’s eyes widened in horror at the sight of her tears, and Daisy, used to Lia’s recent uncharacteristic crying jags, allowed herself a moment’s amusement.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked Daff, sotto voce, and Daff rolled her eyes.

  “Hormones. She’s totally PMSing, and she’s been an emotional powder keg for the last few days.” Mason blanched.

  “I didn’t need to hear that,” he muttered and then looked even more horrified when Lia launched herself at him and buried her face in his chest. His eyes landed on Daisy’s face, and he mouthed a desperate what do I do? Daisy bit her lips to stop herself from laughing and mimed a hugging action. His arms closed around her trembling sister’s form, and Daisy immediately regretted encouraging him to hold her. Lia looked so right in his arms. Her petite, perfect femininity wrapped up in his strong, masculine embrace. He lowered his head and murmured soothing little words into her ear, and she sobbed even louder.

  “It’s just we’ve been working so hard,” she sobbed messily. “I thought we’d never fix it. Never. Thank you, Mason.” Most of what she said was complete gibberish, but she managed to convey the crux of it.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, patting her back awkwardly.

  “I’m sorry, I’m a complete mess,” Lia apologized and stepped away from him, and he released her immediately.

  “I’d probably be a wreck too if I knew I’d almost definitely have my period on my wedding day,” Daff cheerfully supplied. She continued, ignoring both Lia and her mother’s horrified gasps. “I don’t know why you didn’t just go on the pill. You wouldn’t have had to worry about this.”

  “Why must you always be so horrible?” Lia moaned and fled from the kitchen. Their mother threw Daff a disgusted look and rushed after her middle daughter.

  “Do you have to constantly remind her of that?” Daisy sighed, and Daff shrugged.

  “She’s been a total pain for weeks. We’ve all been working our butts off trying to get this perfect for her, and all she’s done is mope, cry, and screech.”

  “She hasn’t been that bad,” Daisy admonished.

  “Please, you haven’t been around for most of it. The other day she screamed at Dad because he forgot to go for his final tuxedo fitting.”

  “Screamed at him?”

  “Screeched like a harpy. It was insane; I thought she’d burst that little vein in her temple, it was bulging so much. Mom actually forced a Valium down her throat and made her go to bed for the rest of the day.” Daff shook her head as she recalled it.

  “Probably nerves,” Mason suggested.

  “Maybe she’s having doubts about Clayton Assmonton the Third?” Daff grinned, and Mason’s eyes narrowed speculatively.

  “You don’t like him either?”

  “Either?” Daff repeated as she glanced at Daisy. “Daisy’s been spilling family secrets, has she?”

  “It’s not a secret that I dislike him,” Daisy muttered defensively.

  “It is from Lia.”

  “So’s the fact that you don’t like him.”

  Daff sighed. “Yeah, but she’s so happy.”

  “She doesn’t seem happy to me,” Mason said, and both women stared at him in surprise.

  “Like you said, probably just nerves,” Daff said with a frown.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I mean, these are trying circumstances, of course they’re going to stress her out,” Daisy murmured.

  “She’s your sister, you know her best. I’m just saying, the woman I saw here tonight isn’t very happy at all.”

  And it wasn’t Mason’s place to comment at all. Why was he involving himself in the McGregor family politics? It wasn’t like him, but he found himself genuinely liking all of them, even the constantly acerbic Daffodil McGregor, and, from what he could tell, their soon-to-be-married sister was completely miserable. But they were so busy trying not to offend her by revealing how much they disliked her fiancé, neither of them had noticed how sad she seemed.

  “So where are these welcome bags we’re supposed to stuff, and are we allowed to take home any damaged or surplus goods?” he said, trying to lighten the mood, but both Daisy and Daff looked thoughtful and concerned.

  “I doubt you’ll want to take anything home.” Daff laughed. “They’re disgustingly boring. Bottled water, handmade soaps, scented candles, tiny bottles of Advil, and one bottle of liqueur. Artisanal”—she spat out the word like it was poison—“candies and cheeses all labeled with the happy couple’s smiling faces, names, and wedding date. Super lame.”

  “I think it’s a lovely idea,” Daisy defended. “The weekend itinerary will help orient guests, the water and snacks are practical, and you know how expensive hotel minibars can be.”

  “I’ve never actually been to a wedding; is it always this . . . involved?” Mason asked, taking a sip of the beer Mrs. McGregor had kindly furnished him with earlier. He pulled a face; it was flat. He’d been so preoccupied with the seating arrangements he hadn’t touched it in over an hour.

  “Never?” Daisy asked as she got up to get him another beer. He took it with a grateful smile, his eyes lingering on her tired face. She looked absolutely exhausted.

  “Never,” he affirmed. “Busy day?”

  “Hmm, emergency op on a bull mastiff. Poor thing was hit by a car.” Mason winced.

  “How’s he doing?”

  Her eyes went bleak, and he knew the answer before she spoke. “I tried my best, but the damage was catastrophic.”

  Mason set his beer bottle aside and gestured for her to turn around. He was standing with his butt braced against the granite countertop next to the fridge, and he widened his stance slightly to accommodate her. When she didn’t move, he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her so that she was facing the kitchen table where Daff was watching them with a hooded gaze. He pulled her back against him until the small of her back nestled against his crotch. He settled his hands on her neck and proceeded to knead, massaging down toward her shoulders and back up to the tight muscles in her neck. Daisy groaned and relaxed into him, her spine melting against his abdomen and torso.

  “I’m sorry about the dog,” he whispered into her hair. He felt hot, much too hot, and that immense heat just rolled off him and enveloped her. He felt her breathing quicken when the hotness hit her.

  “It’s part of the job.”

  “Yeah, but it can’t be easy.” He heard his words slur and was amazed he could form a coherent sentence with her this close and with him so turned on.

  “It isn’t. Some days it just feels so much worse than others. We also had to put down an elderly cat and a sick puppy today. The mastiff was the last straw.”

  He dropped a kiss on the nape of her neck, adoring the soft, scented cove. He concentrated on the knot that had formed there, digging his thumbs in and loving the contented little moans she made in response.

  He was hard—of course he was hard—and trying his damnedest not to grind against her. There was no way she didn’t feel his erection prodding against her back, but she refrained from acknowledging it, probably best with her sister sitting there glaring at him like he was the worst kind of monster. Which was fair enough, considering what she thought she knew about him.

  “No need for pretense here,” Daff said, her voice dripping with disdain, and Mason felt Daisy tense against him as she recalled where she was. He sent Daff a malevolent glare; surely the bitch could see that Daisy was upset after her traumatic workday?

  “Your sister is distraught and exhausted, why not allow me to comfort her?”

  “I don’t need any demonstrations of your fake relationship, Mason,” she sneered. “We all
know what this is about. Save it for some other gullible patsy.”

  Daisy slipped out of his hold, and Mason held on to her arm to keep her in front of him until he got his raging hard-on under control. Daisy understood the silent command immediately and remained where she was, but she tugged her arm out of his hand and maintained a slight distance between them. His body mourned her absence, and his mind raged against it.

  When he had himself back under control, he stepped out from behind her and stared at her averted profile until she reluctantly lifted her gaze to meet his.

  “You should go home and get some rest. It’s late, and you have the clinic tomorrow.” The thought of the clinic still sent cold shudders down his spine.

  “It’s not that late,” she protested, glancing at the digital display on the microwave. “Not even nine thirty yet.”

  “Daisy . . .”

  “Oh my God, you’re not the boss of her,” Daff snapped. “You’re not her boyfriend or fiancé or husband. Stop trying to tell her what to do.”

  “Daff,” Daisy’s voice was equally short. “I can speak for myself!”

  “So vocal with me, aren’t you, Daffodil?” Mason injected lethal amounts of ice into his voice. “Why aren’t you this outspoken with your sister’s douche-bag fiancé?”

  “Because that’s an actual relationship, and prying could do a lot more harm than good. You don’t have anything remotely similar with Daisy!”

  “Enough!” Daisy barked. “I’ve had enough from both of you. Daff, stop interfering and back the hell off!”

  Her sister’s eyes widened, and Mason fought back a grin at the look of sheer incredulity on her face. Their baby sister had claws, and none of them seemed to actually know it.

  “And as for you,” she seethed, turning that temper on him. “Thank you for everything you’ve done tonight, but just stop offering personal insight and suggestions into a situation you know nothing about. It’s none of your damned business.”

  Stung, Mason knew he probably had the same shell-shocked look on his face that Daff currently did.

  “I think I will go home. Tell Mom and Lia I’ll see them tomorrow afternoon. Good night.”

  Before either could react, she had whirled out of the kitchen and was gone. Moments later they heard the front door slam and her car start up.

  The silence stretched into minutes, and Mason finally looked at Daffodil, who was eyeing him speculatively.

  “Why are you doing this? You didn’t have to agree to her foolish plan.”

  He didn’t owe her an explanation, but he could see genuine concern for her sister mixed in with the curiosity.

  “I honestly don’t know. Your sister is compelling and convincing and cute as hell; it can be hard to resist her.”

  “Seriously?” The disbelief in her voice rankled, and he scowled at her.

  “What is up with everybody in this town—even her own family—underestimating her and overlooking her?” he growled. “Why don’t you stop being such a bitch to me for agreeing to help her with this? And take a good hard look at yourself and everybody else who made her feel that she needed to go to such extreme lengths to avoid humiliation at her own sister’s wedding.”

  “I don’t like you, and I don’t like what you and Spencer did to her.”

  “I don’t like what we did either, and that’s partly why I agreed to this.”

  “Seriously, Mason . . . you hurt her, I’ll castrate you.”

  He gave her a grim little smile before nodding.

  “Noted.”

  Mason’s Jeep created deep ruts in the mud as he drove the dirt road to Inkululeko the following morning. He needed to see the clinic’s setup for himself, needed to reassure himself that Daisy was safe and that her clinic was secure.

  The mobile clinic was parked in a clearing close to the informal settlement, and as he drove up, he was surprised by the incredibly long line snaking its way out from the covered entrance. There had to be at least a hundred to two hundred people—and their assorted animals—waiting. There was no way Daisy and her father could help all these people between eight a.m. and one p.m., which was what Daisy had said the operating hours were on a Saturday.

  It was a gloomy day, but the people were happily chatting with each other, some were carrying umbrellas, others wore raincoats, and a few just had plastic bags covering their heads. The settlement was visibly impoverished, but the people in line were cheerful and had an obvious sense of community. Dogs of all sizes were tethered with leashes or makeshift rope harnesses, some obviously ill, others looking bored or nervous, others still picking fights. There were a small number of cats hugged to chests, chickens clucking happily in cages, and even a few cows, horses, and donkeys.

  He was filled with a renewed sense of admiration for Daisy now that he could see what she had created. These people needed this service and were grateful for it. But on the outskirts of all this organized chaos there were a few others lurking. Looking tough, acting tough, and obviously up to no good. He knew the type, had seen them in many guises all over the world. But she saw no danger, saw only the happy community. But in his experience, the ones looking for trouble knew when to pick their moment, and it would be when Daisy or her father were at their most vulnerable. There were so many spots on the isolated dirt road that led up to Inkululeko that could be ideal for an ambush, and his stomach churned at the thought of Daisy getting into that kind of trouble.

  He stepped out of his Jeep and walked toward the clinic. The people in line prodded each other and pointed at him. He was obviously out of place with his big car and his expensive clothes. He kept his stride loose and unthreatening, nodding and smiling at some of the people who made eye contact. When he saw a familiar face at the entrance of the clinic, he grinned.

  “Hello, I know you, don’t I?” It was the pretty young waitress from MJ’s.

  “Yes, I’m Thandiwe,” she said with a cheerful smile. “I’m the unofficial receptionist for Dr. Daisy and Dr. Andrew at the Inkululeko pet clinic.”

  “Fantastic.”

  “I want to be a vet too,” she confided, and Mason felt a pang as he recalled a similarly impoverished young boy with the same big dream. He trusted this self-possessed young woman had what it took to achieve her goal.

  “You learning a lot from the Doctors McGregor?”

  “So much,” she enthused, and his smile widened. “Are you here to see Dr. Daisy?”

  “I am, but I have a couple of questions for you first if you don’t mind and if you can spare the time?” He cast a look at the long line.

  “A little time. I won’t process the next patient until after one of the doctors finishes with their current patient.”

  “How . . .” He wasn’t sure how to delicately phrase it. After all, she lived here, and he didn’t want to offend her. “I was a little worried about Daisy when I heard about this clinic.”

  “You want to know if it’s safe?” She was a straightforward young woman; he liked that about her.

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s safe here,” she emphasized. “But I worry about them when they drive home. My brother has a taxi, and he sometimes follows them to the main road just to be sure they get there safely, but he’s not always available. Most people here don’t have cars, and while they would like to do something similar, they can’t. There’s a lot of expensive medical equipment in this clinic. And some people might think that it’s easy money to be made.” Which just confirmed his worst fear.

  “Thanks, Thandiwe,” he said. “Do you think Dr. Daisy will have time for a quick hello?”

  “I think we can squeeze you in between the mangy cat and the chicken with the club foot.” She grinned, and he felt his lips stretch into an answering smile.

  “Much appreciated.”

  Daisy waved Mrs. Matabane and her sick cat off with a smile. Yet another case of mange; sadly it was prevalent in the township, too much dust. But luckily, Isaac, the battle-scarred tomcat, didn’t have a bad case and looke
d to be on the mend. He needed to be neutered, and she had begged Mrs. Matabane to consider it, explaining that it would cut down on his wandering and fighting as well. The elderly lady had promised to think about it. The mangy animal reminded her of young Thomas and his dog, Sheba, and she wondered if she’d be seeing the friendly child today. He hadn’t dropped by on Wednesday, and she hoped he’d come around today.

  She looked up with a friendly smile as the next person entered the mobile clinic and had a moment’s confusion as she stared at the tall, broad figure silhouetted in the doorway.

  “Mason,” her father called, his voice warm and welcoming. “What brings you by?”

  “Just thought I’d have a look at the clinic; I’ve been thinking of making a donation and wanted to see it for myself first.” Mason’s voice was equally jovial, and Daisy’s eyes narrowed. This was the first she’d heard of a donation—not that it wouldn’t be welcome and appreciated—and it was just a little suspicious for him to suddenly show up. What were his real motivations?

  “Well, feel free to have a look around while we work. It’s a bit cramped in here, though.” The clinic was the size of a standard RV and boasted nearly everything an actual veterinarian’s office would, but there was very little room to maneuver, especially with Mason’s larger-than-life presence making everything seem Lilliputian in scale.

  “I wish one of us could show you around, but we’re a little swamped today,” her father said apologetically. He had his hands on a small black dog with only one eye. The dog’s owner was staring at Mason askance, obviously annoyed to have his consultation interrupted.

  “I wouldn’t expect that, sir. I’ll have a snoop around myself, and I hope you won’t mind if I waited around a bit and maybe drove back into town with you?”

  “That would be fine with us, won’t it, Daisy? And you can come around the house for a late lunch.”

  “I’d enjoy that.” He grinned at Daisy, and she kept a straight face, sure he was up to something. He leaned over her stainless-steel examination table to drop a kiss on to her cheek.

  “You’re looking quite sexy in your white coat, Dr. Daisy,” he whispered wickedly, his breath fanning against her cheek and his voice low enough for only her to hear. Daisy felt herself going bright red and fought to keep her breath even as he nuzzled the sensitive skin next to her ear before he retreated.