“Bye.”
Josh lifted his hand to wave, then dropped it. “Don’t go,” he whispered, but there was no one to hear him.
* * *
FOR A GUY who prided himself on remaining calm in a crisis, Josh’s frustration level was volcanic. “I can tie my own shoes,” he grumbled as Lila tied his running shoe.
“Not today you don’t.”
“I’m sorry. Truly. It’s just that I’ve never been this helpless before.”
“According to your history, you’ve never had surgery before. Not even a tonsillectomy,” Lila said as she stood. She stared at him stone-faced. “Now, you gonna remember all the pointers I gave you about showering?”
Josh blushed and kept his eyes down. “The rope! You mean the rope.”
“Put the rope on before you take the sling off. Make sure there’s a safety bar in the shower to catch you if you start to slip.”
“Check. Austin had a guy put one in yesterday.”
The hospital room door opened and Austin walked in. “Hey, buddy. They tell me you’re ready to go.”
Josh picked up his release papers from the nightstand. “I’m free!”
Austin looked at the sling. “Not quite.”
Lila smiled at Austin. “Hello, Mr. McCreary. I’ll get his wheelchair and be right back.”
Josh held up his hand. “That’s not necessary. I can make it on my own.”
“Hospital rules,” Lila replied, and left.
Josh looked at Austin. “Rules. You think there’s any place where there aren’t rules?”
“Outer space?”
“Nah,” they chorused, then laughed.
* * *
JOSH WAS AMAZED he’d slept the entire afternoon. When he awoke, he opened his laptop and found dozens of emails from Harry, Paul, his crew members, his sponsor, the heads of his two fan clubs and a couple old girlfriends. He turned on his cell phone.
Harry had left seven voice mails. Paul had left two.
Blessedly, Katia and Austin had telephoned them both with the news that he was out of surgery and doing well. Harry wanted media dates booked during his recuperation. Paul wished him well and asked if he’d received the flowers.
Still dressed from the morning, Josh left the guest room and walked into the main hall of Austin’s family mansion. He smelled cooking garlic, olive oil and tomatoes.
“Italian?”
He glanced in the dining room and saw the table set for four. In the center was an enormous arrangement of roses in red, yellow, pink, orange and white.
“Spectacular,” he said as he walked into the kitchen where Austin’s housekeeper, Daisy, was taking a pie out of the oven.
“Hello, Daisy.”
Gingerly, she placed the pie, double crusted with fluted edges, on a rack. Then spun around and shook her oven mitts at him. “Don’t ever do that again! Guest or no guest. Injured or not, I’ll tan your fanny. You scared the bejesus out of me. I could have dropped the pie.”
“I’m sorry,” he replied, looking at the delicious treat. He looked back at Daisy. “I hear the blueberries around here are spectacular.”
“They are. But it’s too early for them. By the end of June, Katia and I will spend hours picking them. Austin loves anything with blueberries.”
“So, she picks them for him.”
“Yes.”
“That’s sweet.” He smiled and felt the warmth of it all the way to his toes. He wondered if Violet ever went blueberry picking. It seemed like a thing Violet would do. Like staying all night by his side in the hospital with him. She wasn’t family. But she acted like she was. Or wanted to be.
Had he become someone important to her? She had lots of friends—and he understood why. She had a way of gathering everyone in, not just to protect them, but to help and care. Even save them?
Save him?
“I’d like to try picking blueberries sometime,” he said.
Daisy looked at his sling. “Then we will.” She put the mitt down on the counter.
Josh watched her face soften with a smile. Daisy was in her mid-sixties, but she had the energy of a child. She wore her blond hair short, and there was no lack of glittering costume jewelry hanging around her neck or dangling at her ears. Her blue eyes literally twinkled.
“Why, thank you, Daisy.” He glanced back to the dining room. “I saw there were four for dinner. Will you be sharing that pie with us?”
“Nope. Mr. Austin invited a guest.” She winked at him. “Everyone is on the terrace. Cocktails are out there. Though you might want to take it easy, you bein’ all shot up with ether and all.”
“I don’t think they use ether anymore.”
“Well, it was something strong, judging by all the work they did on you.”
“Yeah. It was somethin’.”
Josh walked through the French doors to the terrace, wondering who Austin and Katia had invited for dinner, and pulled to a dead stop.
“Violet?”
She had her back to him. Her thick dark hair swirled around her shoulders as she turned in the chair. She wore a white flowered sundress with skinny pink straps, and there were pink jeweled sandals on her feet. He hadn’t noticed before that she was tan, but he could see that she’d obviously been out in the sun. Or was that from her day at the race?
Her makeup made her eyes smolder, and she’d added pink lipstick and pink hoop earrings.
He was tongue-tied. Astounded. All he could do was stare.
She rose from the chair, a look of concern on her face, and walked toward him. A gentle warm breeze carried the scent of jasmine and rose across the terrace.
Or was that her?
Josh had heard that there were moments in a man’s life that caused the senses to overtake reason. One of his pit crew had told him that on the day he’d met his future wife, it was as if lightning had struck him. He knew.
She’s the one, Josh thought. But how could she be? To truly love someone, you had to trust them. He wished he knew where her job ended and where “they” began. Because there was a “they.” He felt it as strongly as the triumph on the last lap of a race when he knew he’d win. His heart nearly spun out of his chest at those moments. That was how it was now with Violet.
“Are you okay? Dizzy? Gonna throw up again?” Violet asked, putting her hand on his good arm.
“Huh? No. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“Okay. You’re right,” he replied, not taking his eyes from her face. “I’m a little out of it. Must be the meds.”
“And you haven’t eaten a thing from what Katia tells me.”
“Hey, buddy,” Austin said from his chair, holding up a tall glass of what looked like lemonade. “You’re probably dehydrated. C’mon over and get some iced tea. Or an Arnold Palmer.”
“Sounds good,” Josh replied, still looking at Violet.
She took his arm. “I’ll put lots of ice in it for you,” she said as they walked together.
He sat down in a wrought-iron chair next to Katia. Violet sat to his right. His uninjured arm. He hoped she wanted to hold his hand.
And why was that important to him now?
Katia lifted a platter with bruschetta. “I made these very light for you, Josh. Mango, pineapple, avocado. Hint of basil. They shouldn’t upset your stomach. And the fruit has sugar. It should help you get back in the pink.”
“In the pink.” He looked at Violet. “You’re beautiful. Er, tonight.”
“Thanks. It’s Katia’s dress. And the shoes. I had a good time playing in her closet.”
Katia smiled. “I had a blast. We should do it more often.”
Violet looked down at the dress. “I love pretty clothes, but haven’t had much time for them.” She looked up at Josh. “Katia’s going to take me to some designer outlet
s.”
Violet poured a tall glass of iced tea, adding a sprig of mint. She handed it to him. “The mint is from Mrs. Beabots’s garden. I brought some basil for Katia, too.”
“Are the roses in the dining room from you, too?”
Austin laughed. “Oh, no. Those are from your attorney, Paul. Harry sent a fruit and cheese basket. Did you see the flowers in the living room?”
“No.”
“Seventeen arrangements,” Katia said, sipping her iced tea. “I haven’t seen that many flowers in this house since our wedding day.”
“That’s right! You got married here. Sorry to have missed it.”
He turned to Violet. “I was racing in Dubai.”
Then he said, “That must have been—wonderful. Married in your family home.” Josh gazed at Violet, wondering what she’d think of a wedding at home.
“It was,” Austin replied, taking Katia’s hand and kissing her palm. “A day to remember. Including the near tornado that ruined the garden reception.”
“Austin!” Katia retorted. “It was marvelous. We moved everything inside and had dinner in the house. The lights went out. We lit a lot of candles.” She laughed.
Josh watched a bead of sweat run down the side of his glass. “I don’t have a family home. Just condos where I crash for a couple weeks before flying out to another city.”
Violet reached over and touched his hand. “I’m sure they’re marvelous. All those exotic locations.”
“Yeah.”
Daisy walked out the door and smacked two huge knives together. “Dinner’s ready!”
Everyone laughed at the show.
Katia rose. “We better get in there and eat before she feeds it to the neighbor’s dogs.”
Josh looked at Katia, horrified. “Would she do that?”
Austin nodded. “She’s been known to.”
* * *
DAISY’S ITALIAN DINNER, which consisted of vegetable lasagna, grilled salmon, plain angel-hair pasta with olive oil for Josh’s “delicate” stomach, salad, bread and balsamic dipping sauce, was more than filling.
However, after dinner, Austin declared that he positively had to have Louise Railton’s salted caramel ice cream with his blueberry pie. While Daisy cleaned the kitchen and Austin and Katia drove to the Louise House Ice Cream Shop, Josh took Violet back out to the terrace.
He lit a citronella candle, and they sat at the table sipping decaffeinated coffee.
“I do feel better after eating.”
“I’m glad.”
He chuckled. “Luckily, no queasiness. You won’t have to run for a barf bag.”
“Darn.” She snapped her fingers. “And I had an extra one in my purse.”
He swiped his forehead. “That was so embarrassing. I apologize.”
“I’m the one who fed you the cheeseburger. You couldn’t help it.”
He rested his eyes on her. Not a hard thing to do. “You know, you are so different when you’re out of uniform.”
She stiffened. “How so?”
“You know. Rules. Regs. Laws. Arresting people.”
She tilted her head back on her shoulders and gripped the chair arms. “You’re going to hold that against me forever, aren’t you.”
“No. I’m not.”
“Look, Josh. There’s truth to what you say. I’m a cop. I’m sworn to uphold the law. I like going after bad guys. I want to make the world safe, or at least my little world here in Indian Lake. I want to be the best detective this town has ever seen.”
“I still wish your job wasn’t so dangerous.”
Violet stared at her coffee cup, gnawing on her bottom lip. “We both live with danger sewn to our heels. I think you race for thrills and fame. I’m trying to save lives.”
Josh tapped his forefinger on the table as he considered her point of view. She wasn’t all wrong, but she wasn’t all right, either. “You only know the tip-sheet facts about me, Violet.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Then why don’t you tell me?”
Moving his eyes from her stern expression to the flickering candle he said, “You know my parents died and that I lived in a series of foster homes. In a way, I had it easier than some of the other kids. In other ways, it was worse.”
“How was it worse?”
“I knew my parents. Knew they were good people and that we loved each other. We did lots of things together. Went to the state fair every year. My dad taught me to ride my bike, and Mom showed me how to measure the ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies. Not just slice them from a pre-made roll. She was warm and always had a hug for me.”
He smiled at her. “I don’t race for the thrills or fame. I feel like I’ve been racing against death all my life. When I’m out there on a track or coming around to the straightaway and I hit it one more time, trying to find that speed that will lift me off, deep inside me, I feel this ‘closeness’ to my parents. There’s been times when I actually see my mother again. I can feel her arms around me. I hear my dad sometimes. I know he’s right there. Just a few feet away. I have things to say to them. And I go faster. It’s like I’m in an altered reality.” He didn’t have a death wish, he just wanted to be closer to them.
“Josh...”
“When I drive close to death, I feel I’m with my parents.”
“So, if you keep racing against the devil, you feel you will heal your grief?”
“Yeah. I do.”
She dropped her arms to her sides and leaned forward. “There’s something you’re still not telling me, Josh. I can feel it.”
He turned his coffee cup in the saucer, but he didn’t drink it. He barely nodded as he felt his eyes sting and his head pound. How could she know him this well? Was she the friend he’d been looking for, the kind of person he could count on? The cops knew about him and Diego or now Miguel, his alias. Josh’d be a fool if he trusted her completely. Like his car revving at the starting line, Josh was caught between his heart, which wanted to open up more to her, and his head, which slammed on the brakes.
Violet put her hand on his good shoulder. It was the lightest touch, but he could feel her caring seeping through his skin, consoling him.
“I’ve never told anyone,” he said as a burn moved up from his throat and cut off his words.
And I probably shouldn’t now.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Josh. But I’m not going to run to the media and expose you. And if it’s illegal...”
“Illegal? Why would you think that?” He’d been right to play it cool with her.
“My training, I guess. I don’t know where you’re going. Did someone hurt you? Is that it?”
“No. Not directly.” He could barely swallow. But for the first time in his life the words had to come out. He’d kept them entombed for too many years. “Sometimes, my parents would get into nasty fights and when they did, I hid in the basement or my closet. I had earphones I stuck on my ears and pretended to sing along with Motley Crüe. I didn’t have any other family I could talk to. I didn’t know what to do.”
“What did they argue about?”
“Me.”
“You? Why?”
He sucked in a deep breath as much for courage as to still the rapid beating of his heart. “They were kids when I was born. Sometimes my dad would get drunk. I heard him say he didn’t want me. That I was a mistake.”
“Oh, my God, Josh.”
He didn’t look at Violet, but he sensed that she was crying. Empathy for him. That was a new feeling. He almost didn’t know how to process it. “My mother wanted me. I heard her say that whenever they fought. The night they died, they left the house fighting. My dad went out to the car and backed out of the drive. My mother clung to the door. She finally got it open and got in. He peeled away. Fast. I was the last thing on their minds.
I was at the living room window watching them, and I saw another car swerving toward them, only a half mile away. No one else was hurt, thank the Lord.”
“And you’ve felt responsible for their deaths ever since?” she asked.
He put his hand over his face. He felt his own tears. He hadn’t known he was crying.
“Josh.” Violet pulled his head to her shoulder.
He nestled his face in the crook of her throat. He put his good arm around her. “Thank you, Violet.”
She rubbed his back, soothing him. Giving him comfort.
He kissed her neck and wiped his cheek in her satiny hair. He kissed her ear. “Violet...”
She kissed him then with lips that told him he was good and clean, and that he should let go of the guilt he’d carried in his soul all these years. Her hands pressed against his cheeks as she held his face. She kissed him over and over. His eyelids, his forehead. His lips.
She told him wordlessly that he was not to blame.
That he was wanted.
There was so much about her that mesmerized him. He knew Harry and Paul didn’t trust her, that the Diego issue hung over them. And she had an uncanny ability to wrest personal information from him, details he’d never shared with anyone. It was her compassion that drew him in. He knew it was impossible to have a connection like this so soon, but though Violet was a cop, she listened with her heart like a confidante.
He liked that she was an enigma. She fascinated him.
Can’t let that happen.
I have to focus.
As she slipped her fingers across his cheek, he felt his resolve melting. He wanted to believe she might trust him enough to confide in him. And if she did, would that mean that she loved him? Or was she using him for her job?
* * *
DAY THREE OF Josh’s recovery, Violet texted him and asked him to share lunch with her. She was operating on Trent’s orders to stay close to him.
“You don’t mind riding in my squad car, do you? It’s the only vehicle I have access to.”
“It does feel kinda weird being in the front seat.”
“Sorry.” She smiled widely.
He gazed at her. “No, you’re not. I think you’re glad you arrested me.”
Hers to Protect Page 16
