by Lori Wilde
“Junie Mae.” Natalie tightened her grip on her neighbor’s arm. “What is it?”
“Delia’s been having vertigo. She fell a couple of times this month, but she wasn’t hurt. I didn’t tell you this part, but I already drove over to Delia’s house to check on her and the door was locked. I rang the bell and waited and waited and, well, here I am now.”
“Let’s go,” Dade said.
“Where to?” Junie Mae asked, owl-eyed.
“To Delia’s house.”
Natalie whipped her head around. He was standing behind her, big and strong and bare-chested. It would be so easy to let him take charge—to sink into him, to surrender her burdens to him, allow him to carry her load, but she simply could not afford to do that. She had no idea how long he would be in Cupid. She couldn’t depend on him because if she ever laid down her burdens, felt freedom on her shoulders, she might never be able to take them back up again, and that was a risk she simply could not take.
“Junie Mae and I will handle this, thank you,” she said to Dade, sounding snippier than she intended.
“Don’t be prideful, Natty,” Junie Mae said. “We might need him to bust down the door.”
“Carol Ann should have a key to Delia’s house.” This wasn’t good. Natalie splayed a hand to her chest, trying to still her racing pulse.
“I didn’t want to ask her for it. Delia specifically said not to get Carol Ann involved if anything should happen.”
“Carol Ann has a right to know.”
“Only if there really is a need to get her involved.”
Dammit. She should have a key to Delia’s house. Why didn’t she have a key? “We’ll just have to break your promise to Delia.”
“We’re wasting time.” Dade stalked down the steps toward Natalie’s van. “I’ll drive.”
Natalie was about to argue, but then realized her hands were shaking. Calm down. Delia is probably just fine.
Probably, but a forbidding sensation, like long-legged spiders crawling down the nape of her neck, tickled over her. She pulled her car keys from her pocket and tossed them to Dade. He caught them in his palm with lightning reflexes. He slid behind the wheel, let back the driver’s seat. Natalie climbed in beside him, riding shotgun.
Junie Mae got into the back of the van. Anxiously, she leaned over the seat, chattering a mile a minute. “I know your Aunt Delia is strong-minded but her body is frail. She thinks she can force her way through anything. That mind-over-matter mantra she chimes doesn’t always cut it.”
Natalie reached over the seat to pat Junie Mae’s arm. “It’s going to be okay. We’re together, we’ll get through this.”
Dade made a low noise.
She cast a glance over at him. His eyes met hers and she could read his thoughts. Elderly lady, living all alone, fainting spells, doesn’t answer the phone, house locked up tight, what are the odds she’s okay?
You don’t even know that’s what he’s thinking. This is your mind drawing conclusions, toying with conjecture. Don’t borrow trouble.
That point of view might be fine for Mr. Cynic here, but Natalie couldn’t afford to think that way. She crossed her legs, realizing for the first time since hearing about Delia that Dade still had her panties.
“Turn right at the next intersection,” Junie Mae directed Dade. “Delia’s place is the third house on the left. Blue frame. White trim. It’s the one with the pink flamingos in the front yard. You can’t miss it.”
Dade pulled into Delia’s driveway and Natalie was out of the car before it came to a complete stop; Junie Mae was a close second behind her.
Natalie pounded on the door. They waited a second.
“Delia,” Junie Mae hollered. “Are you in there?”
“I should have made her get Life Alert,” Natalie grumbled. “She said she didn’t want to waste the money. I should have insisted.”
Dade’s hand was on her shoulder. “You did the best you could.”
She whirled around, and glared at him. “I did not do the best I could. If I’d done the best I could for my great-aunt, this would not be happening.”
“Stop beating yourself up. You can’t take care of the entire world.”
Natalie scowled. “No, but I can take better care of my people.”
“You take on too much responsibility.”
“It’s not your place to tell me what I can and can’t take on.”
She couldn’t really say why she was being so bitchy. She wasn’t mad at him. She was mad at herself.
“You’re just scared,” he said.
True enough.
“Knock down the door!” Junie Mae commanded Dade, pointing at the door.
“That’s easier said than done.” Dade eyed the door.
“You’ve got big strong shoulders! Just get a running start.” Junie Mae motioned at him like she was a matador waving a red flag at a charging bull.
“I won’t be much good to you with a broken shoulder.”
“Well don’t just stand there!” Junie Mae exclaimed. “Come up with a better plan.”
Dade sprang into action. He stripped off his cowboy hat and poked his fist into it. He stepped to the front window, pulled off the screen, and neatly punched a hole through the pane, the hat protecting his fist from getting cut.
The glass fell to the floor inside with a quiet pop. He reached inside, unlatched the window, and slid it open.
“Wow,” Junie Mae said, impressed. “You’ve done this before.”
“Misspent youth,” Dade replied, and stepped over the windowsill and into Delia’s living room. Two seconds later, he opened the door for Natalie and Junie Mae to enter.
They pushed through the house, stuffed with antiques and cardboard boxes of things bought from QVC—a Keurig single-cup coffeemaker, a Montel Williams pressure cooker, nutritional supplements, a crank and tilt patio umbrella. On the walls in the foyer hung movie posters of Giant and framed autographed photographs of Rock Hudson, James Dean, and Elizabeth Taylor.
In the den, Delia’s cane was propped against an orange leather couch, vintage 1970s, and her reading glasses were folded over a word-find puzzle booklet resting on the coffee table.
They rushed from room to room, calling Delia’s name, and finally found Delia unconscious, lying on the floor, a towel wrapped around her waist, the shower curtain half pulled off the rod, one end clutched in her hand. There was a gash on her head, and a small pool of dark blood had spread across the white tile.
“Oh no!” Junie Mae keened and dropped to her knees on the tile beside Delia. “I knew something bad had happened.”
An instant headache pounded Natalie’s temples. She knotted her hands into fists. She was such a terrible niece. She should have been keeping a better eye out for Delia. Instead, she’d been fooling around with Dade while Delia lay suffering.
“Get something to cover her with,” Dade commanded, and stalked to the bedroom.
Natalie obeyed, stepping over Junie Mae, who had Delia’s pale, veiny hand clutched in hers and was sobbing softly.
Dade pulled a multitool from his pocket and started taking the bedroom door off its hinge. “Grab the bedspread. You can cover her with that.”
Natalie gathered the red satin comforter off the bed. “What are you doing?”
“Go cover her, and while you’re at it, strip the top sheet off the bed too.”
Fine. He didn’t want to explain himself, well fine, then. Natalie blew out her breath. Under any other circumstances this macho crap wouldn’t fly, but part of her was so relieved that he’d taken charge that she simply did as he asked and took the comforter into the bathroom and covered Delia up with it.
“Is she alive?” Junie Mae fretted.
Natalie put a finger to Delia’s neck, felt for and found a weak pulse. “She’s alive.”
“Oh, thank God.” Junie Mae rocked back on her heels and began to pray.
Dade appeared with Delia’s bedroom door in his hands. “Junie Mae.”
; “Yes sir.” Junie Mae jumped to her feet.
“Go put the van’s backseat down flat.”
“I’m on it.” Junie Mae disappeared.
Holding the door sideways, Dade squatted beside Delia’s still body now covered with the comforter.
“What can I do?” Natalie asked.
“Help me logroll her onto the door.”
“Logroll?”
“We move her body as one unit, in a straight line. In case she has spinal injuries or broken bones.”
“Oh my.” It fully hit her then. Delia could die. Her stomach fluttered. Natalie squatted beside Dade and he showed her how to keep Delia’s body straight.
“I did it.” Breathless, Junie Mae appeared in the doorway. “Seat’s down.”
“Good job,” Dade told her. To Natalie, he said, “On the count of three.”
Natalie braced her right leg against the bathtub so she couldn’t slip. “Ready.”
“One . . . two . . . three.”
In unison, as if they’d been working together all their lives, they rolled Delia onto the makeshift backboard. Delia’s body was so limp, and almost lifeless. Tears pushed into Natalie’s eyes, but she quickly brushed them away. Stay strong. Can’t afford to cry. Not now.
With his multitool, Dade cut the sheet that Natalie had brought from the bed into strips. It made a terse ripping sound as the material gave way beneath his big hand. He used the long strips as stays to tie Delia securely to the makeshift backboard.
Then he squatted and power-lifted Delia, board and all, up off the floor. Holding her in his arms, he told Natalie, “Go start the car.”
“Shouldn’t we call an ambulance?”
“We can get her to the hospital faster than an ambulance can get out here. Move.”
Natalie obeyed, going ahead of him to the front door, Junie Mae bringing up the rear.
Junie Mae had left the door of the van open and Dade was able to slide Delia inside on the door. Natalie was amazed at his power, strength, and deep inner calm.
“Who the hell are you?” Junie Mae asked, wide-eyed, echoing what Natalie was thinking. “A superhero?”
Dade didn’t answer that, instead he said. “Junie Mae, ride shotgun with Natalie. I’ll ride back here with Delia. Let’s roll.”
He folded up his big body and crawled up into the back of the van. Leaving Junie Mae to close the door after him.
Natalie was halfway around the van, her mind spinning, when she heard Junie Mae give a little gasp.
“Dade,” Junie Mae said, “do you realize you have a pair of women’s white lace panties hanging out of your back pocket?”
Chapter 13
If you want to change your entire view of the world, all you have to do is fall in love.
—MILLIE GREENWOOD
In the emergency waiting room, Dade felt like a fifth wheel. He waited in the corner with his back to the wall, watching Delia’s family and friends arrive. Natalie insisted on introducing him to all of them. Once people had heard the news, through what was apparently Cupid’s phone tree, half the town showed up. The emergency room was packed and there wasn’t a spare chair in the place. Some of the younger relatives like Zoey were sitting on the floor.
He checked his watch, shifted his weight, and distracted himself by thinking about Natalie’s panties tucked in his back pocket.
Natalie sat in a chair, Junie Mae on one side of her, an older African-American woman on the other, both holding her hands. Natalie’s legs were primly pressed together, but the thought that she wasn’t wearing any underwear under that green skirt was ripping him up inside. It wasn’t the time or the place for lusty thoughts, but by God, how did a man turn them off with a woman like Natalie?
Once, she glanced up and met his gaze, and a hint of a naughty smile touched her lips. She blushed prettily and quickly glanced away.
He briefly closed his eyes and in that second, he was back on her patio deck, straddling her in the chaise longue. Lips. Skin. Heat. Banana pudding.
She made him think of other things too—which was the truly disturbing part—things like wooden porch swings, cold glasses of sweet lemonade on a hot day, a platter full of buttermilk-battered fried chicken, the evening song of crickets, whippoorwills, and bullfrogs. He didn’t know where the impressions came from because they certainly weren’t from his memories, but these images of a life with her burrowed into him and wouldn’t turn loose.
Fighting for self-control, he opened his eyes. Natalie was so calm amid her family. Some of whom could be quite overly dramatic, like the one called Carol Ann. Natalie seemed to be the family’s center, their true north. He admired that about her, while at the same time he flinched from it.
She was everything he’d ever wanted but knew he could never have. He felt a longing inside him, an urge to belong, but he didn’t fit in with other people, especially a close-knit community like this one. He realized that. The navy was the closest he’d ever come to a home and even they had eventually turned him out.
Betrayed. All throughout his life he’d been betrayed by everyone he’d ever loved or trusted.
Oh, friggin’ boo-hoo for you. Get over it, Vega. You don’t fit here, not anywhere, and you never will. Red was the only one who’d never betrayed him. Dade stuck his hand in his front pocket, fingered the frayed yarn of the bullet casing bracelet. Where in the hell are you, buddy?
His instincts told him to leave. He needed to be back at work at 6 P.M. after all, he had an excuse. He was getting too close to these people, and it would only end in a big lot of hurt on his side, but he couldn’t abandon Natalie. Not when she had everyone leaning on her. She needed someone to lean on and he intended on being that someone.
So he stayed.
And waited.
No matter how uncomfortable it felt.
He did take a minute to call Chantilly’s and ask the bartender he’d covered for that day to now cover for him, and the man readily agreed because of the emergency situation.
Natalie got up and went around the room, resting her hands on shoulders, murmuring words of comfort, bringing people coffee, passing out Kleenex.
Dade eyed the door and counted off the number of paces it would take him to reach the exit. Twelve if he took long-legged strides; twelve steps to freedom. With the hubbub, probably no one would notice if he left. He readied himself, coiled his thigh muscles, and he was just about to take flight when Natalie came over and wrapped an arm around his waist.
Wrapped her arm around him like it was the most natural thing in the world. A strange lump formed in his throat and he fought to swallow.
Her hand strummed over the seat of his jeans. Oh yeah. She plucked the panties from his back pocket. Not for him. She had come to get her panties back.
Yeah, bullet head, she didn’t come over here for emotional support from the likes of you, she just wanted her underwear. Get over yourself.
“Thank you,” she whispered, and surreptitiously fisted the panties in her hand and then slipped her fist into the pocket of her skirt. “Thank you so much for being there for me, for Delia.”
He shrugged. “Anyone would have done the same thing.”
“Don’t underestimate what you did.”
“I’m no hero.”
“You are in my book.”
If she only knew! She would not think so highly of him if she knew the things he was capable of, but his desire to be with her was stronger than his self-doubt. It scared him. This neediness. Scared him because it was more than physical. If it were just physical, he could handle that, but when he looked at Natalie, he wanted more, something he’d never wanted before. He wanted what most people in this small town seemed to have—love, belonging, a deep sense of community.
It doesn’t work. Not for you. You’re marked by your past. A leopard can’t change its spots.
Why not? Why couldn’t he have happiness?
He looked into her eyes and knew the answer. Because Natalie deserved so much more than what he coul
d offer. She deserved a man with a clear conscience. A man who didn’t wake up in the night battling nightmares, a man who could promise to stand by her through thick and thin.
You could promise her that, if you tried.
God, how he wanted to believe that.
She leaned against him and damn him, he just wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Right there in the emergency room. Right in front of her family and friends, and that’s when he knew that he was not going to get out of Cupid with his heart intact.
“Listen, Natalie,” he said. “We need to talk.”
“Okay,” she said. “Would you like to go outside?”
He glanced around the room, noticed several members of her family were staring at him. He lowered his voice. “Not here. Not now. Your family needs you. But soon. Very soon.”
“Okay.” She smiled tentatively and then she stretched up to kiss him on the cheek. “We’ll talk when I get home.”
Good. He had an appointment to tell her who he really was. So why did he suddenly feel as naked as the day he was born?
It was the next afternoon before Delia awakened in ICU after going through surgery. She’d broken her hip during the fall in her shower. At her age, the hip fracture was worrisome since the elderly sometimes died from complications of a broken hip. She’d also suffered a concussion and mild dehydration.
Guilt gnawed at Natalie. She should have kept a closer eye on her aunt. Delia was the last surviving family member of her generation, and when she passed away, something irredeemable would be lost.
Natalie, Sandra, and Carol Ann had spent the night in the ICU waiting room while everyone else went home. Zoey was going to look after the B&B guests, and Junie Mae promised Natalie she’d pop over to make sure everything was running smoothly. Lars too volunteered to chip in and do what he could to help. The bases were covered on the home front.
For the first visiting hours of the morning, the nurse came into the waiting room. “Miss Delia is asking for Natalie.”
Carol Ann got up along with Natalie.
“I’m sorry.” The nurse put up a restraining hand. “She asked for just Natalie.”
