Harlequin Heartwarming March 21 Box Set

by Claire McEwen

  Not now that he’d read her name tag. Whitney. Her name was Whitney. Everything she’d rattled off? He was going to need time to untangle. Wade shook his head.

  Her smile was beautiful, open and friendly. “Take it all home. Read it over. Call me and we’ll set up an hour to go over everything you’re interested in and forget the rest. Okay?”

  “I appreciate that. I’ll probably need some advice.” Wade returned her smile. Friendly. That was his goal.

  She squeezed his arm. “Welcome to Miami. If you need suggestions on neighborhoods or restaurants, don’t hesitate to pick up the phone. I’d love to be your guide.” Her cell rang, so she pulled it out of her pocket before scowling at the display. “I have to take this. I mean it. Call me, Wade.”

  Then she was hurrying back down the hall.

  Wade dropped the heavy binder on the bare desk in his new small office that was buried on a dead-end hallway and inhaled slowly.

  Change had always been hard for him.

  And this was going to be a big change.

  Plus, he was almost sure that Whitney would like to go to dinner at one of the restaurants she could recommend if he worked up the nerve to ask her out. Why couldn’t he breathe right? He pressed a hand to the heaviness in the center of his chest.

  Years in the Navy had meant plenty of new places and faces, but the backbone of structure and command had been there to fall back on. Whether he’d been stationed in North America, Asia or Africa, naval command changed direction like a tanker at sea, slowly and only with lots of room to maneuver. Here, everything was bright and shiny and fast. So much was open to interpretation or special knowledge he wasn’t sure he had.

  “Surgery will be the same,” he muttered to himself as he moved to sit behind the desk. Pulmonary failure, cardiac failure, blunt trauma, internal hemorrhaging…none of what came through the emergency room doors was predictable, but he knew the process of evaluating the options to save a life. He trusted that knowledge.

  Feeling so far out of his element was sometimes a precursor to an anxiety attack. Having one in his new place of employment would never do. Sometimes he could talk himself down. The sweat forming at his temples was a sign meltdown was imminent. “You know surgery. You’re one of the best in surgery. Years of experience. Nothing changes that.” He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing pattern again.

  Trauma surgery was stressful. Neither his alcohol addiction sponsor nor his therapist had ever fully understood how anxiety faded when he was faced with the problem of how to treat a gunshot wound or someone hurt by explosion or fire.

  He had to get out of his head when a life was on the line.

  Unknowns like hospital accounting, billing procedures and navigating the employee benefit system threw him for a loop. He hated unknowns. In surgery, he had a wound. He had this many possible solutions. He understood them fully. He decided and moved to the next crisis.

  Here, none of these decisions meant life or death. Every choice was fine, some better, some more expensive, which made comparing them difficult. Adding a pretty, interested woman out of the blue was one choice too many. He wasn’t ready for this.

  To slow his elevated heart rate and improve his shallow breathing, Wade stretched back in his chair, jerked at the loud crack and then settled again to study the ceiling tiles over his head. He had to count each exhale. As many times as it took.

  When his heart rate finally slowed and he could no longer hear his pulse, Wade sat up. Fatigue swamped him. As soon as his muscles relaxed, the panic receding, exhaustion hit as if he’d been in battle. The back of the chair remained at an incline. One hard yank from him brought the chair back to its upright and locked position.

  “Who do I call to fix that,” he wondered as he flipped open the binder to find the computer log-on instructions. Wade rested his forehead on his hands as he scanned the table of contents.

  Wade had a meeting next week with someone from the hospital’s IT staff, but he wanted a look around. He’d only worry until everything was clear to him and this was something he could address. His nurse assistant would also be coming in. Wade had no idea how Antonio Vargas had been chosen or by whom, but his achievements were solid. That was one piece of the scary puzzle that fit.

  Wade traced a hand down each step of the log-on as he worked and relaxed against his seat when the system responded perfectly. The loud crack warned him, so when he was facing the ceiling again, Wade shook his head.

  The knock on his door distracted him from giving the seat back another hard yank.

  Luis Montero stood in his doorway, a frown on his face. “Having trouble with your chair, Wade? That won’t do.”

  Almost everyone Wade had been introduced to called him Dr. McNally. Luis Montero assumed they were closer than that, apparently.

  “Yes, I’ll have to call…someone to get it fixed or replaced. It’s not the first time I’ve inherited somebody’s hand-me-downs. That’s the way of the world. New guy misses out on the frenzy of trading up when someone leaves an office.” Wade waved a hand toward the armchairs with ratty blue-gray upholstery. “Why don’t you try one of those chairs? I can’t guarantee they’re safe, but we won’t know until someone gives it a shot.”

  Luis paused with one hand on the chair. Then he raised an eyebrow and perched carefully.

  When it held, Wade said, “Oh, good.”

  He’d meant it as a joke. It wasn’t a great joke, but Luis’s unreadable reaction suggested he didn’t view placing his trust in an unreliable seat to be a humorous matter. Did Montero find anything funny? If Wade had been the guy to make snap judgments, he’d have guessed Luis Montero was the type of man to hire someone else to take the risk of a faulty chair first.

  His daughters were very different from this Montero.

  “Was there something I could help you with, Luis?” Wade asked, returning Montero’s use of his first name with pleasure. If the older man wasn’t going to stand on ceremony, Wade would follow his lead.

  “Just dropped by to make sure everything is going well,” Luis said as he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. Without pause, he scrolled through numbers, made his choice and put the phone up to his ear. He nodded at Wade while he waited for his call to be answered. “Trina, I need you to call Dr. Holt on his cell. Let him know that the office assigned to Wade McNally won’t do. Then pick out a good desk and chair, nice ones, leather, expensive, and have them delivered next week to McNally’s new office. Yes, use my personal accounts.” Luis listened for a minute. “That’s all for now.” His smug grin as he dropped his phone back in his pocket was irritating.

  “We’ll get this sorted out next week, Wade. I’ll get it taken care of. No need to worry about the chair or this small office.” Luis stared at the room. “Trina will choose some artwork, too. Expensive but simple subjects. A bowl of fruit, perhaps. Maybe flowers.” Then he waved his hands. “No need to thank me. We want you to be happy here. And as a board member of this hospital I have a special obligation to look after you. Now, is there anything I need to address at Concord Court? How is your daughter settling in?”

  Mindful of the state of his chair, Wade braced his elbows on his desk. He’d spent a lot of time around military commanders, men and women secure in their spot at the top of the food chain. They ordered; they didn’t ask. Luis Montero might not have any military service under his belt, but he’d mastered the attitude.

  “Brisa has done a great job of making sure my move into Concord Court has been easy. Seamless, really. I wasn’t expecting my orientation today, but I couldn’t miss it. Brisa is meeting the guys delivering my furniture for me on her day off. Very hands-on. Helpful. I needed that today especially.” What an understatement. If he’d been forced to reschedule and face an empty bedroom when he made it home after this day, he might not be able to breathe his way through a meltdown.

  He owed Brisa Montero.


  Wade wanted to make sure that Luis Montero knew that Brisa was good at her job. He recalled his annoyance at the memory of Brisa’s muttered complaints about her father’s lack of recognition for all she did…

  “Good. Good. I’m relieved to hear you’ve been treated well.” Luis frowned. “We’re in the middle of a transition. I do hope you’ll let me know if you run into any challenges while we come to new terms at Concord Court. I hadn’t expected this when I raved over the level of excellent service we provide, but I will make sure it is maintained.”

  There was something off about the whole situation in Wade’s judgment. He didn’t know Reyna well, but Brisa had responded quickly, efficiently, every step of the way. What did her father fear would happen and why?

  He remembered Brisa referring to herself as the messy one in the Montero family. Barring the catfishing incident, he hadn’t seen any evidence of a mess. Wade realized it was a big exception, but he’d let it go. Grudges had never been his style. Growing up in foster care had taught him to process and get past whatever he was feeling as quickly as he could.

  “Now that Brisa is my neighbor, it should be even easier to address any minor questions I have.” Wade couldn’t imagine what Luis expected might go wrong. The townhome complex was new, but running well thanks to Brisa.

  “Your neighbor?” Luis straightened in his chair.

  Did he not know his daughter had moved in?

  “Yes, she moved in this week,” Wade said.

  Luis shook his head slightly. “I warned Reyna not to allow that. When Brisa changes her mind and leaps to the next wonderful opportunity she sees, getting her out will be a hassle and then we’ll have to spend time, money and effort to prepare the unit for someone else to move in.” He considered his phone again. Was he about to make another phone call? To Reyna, to fix the problem? Or to Trina, to hire an eviction crew? “I should have made this a condition of her probationary period.”

  Montero’s world-weary air of a man who had been there and done that all too often grated on Wade’s already frayed nerves. Wade hadn’t spent more than four hours total in Brisa’s company, but in that time, he’d observed her pride in Concord Court and the fine work she was doing there.

  A good father should be supporting that, not loudly expecting her to fail.

  As soon as the thought hit, Wade wondered when he’d determined what made a good father. He’d never had one. Up to this point, he hadn’t been one, either.

  But he knew he was right.

  Wade started to ease back in his chair, remembered at the last minute that the seat was broken, and decided to stand instead. “I’ve been impressed with both of your daughters, Luis, but Brisa has done the most to make sure I have the support I need in this move. I don’t have the history you do, obviously, but I will say, from where I stand, she deserves more credit.”

  He’d intended to be firm but nonconfrontational. The way Luis’s lips firmed into a solid line suggested Wade had overstepped the mark.

  Handling personalities like Luis Montero’s took skill, no doubt.

  The hospital wanted Wade, though. Luis wanted him at Concord Court. That gave Wade room to maneuver.

  Luis stood and straightened his suit coat. “I am glad all is going well at Concord Court. Luckily, I do know both of my daughters. If one should falter,” he said as he raised his eyebrow, leaving no doubt which daughter he meant, “the other will step up. And, of course, I am keeping a close eye on our new manager’s standards.” He winked and held out his hand. “As a father, you may one day understand that our children need our direction, no matter how old they are. Our duty to protect them never ends, Wade.”

  Wade stared at the hand for too long. Was he going to shake it?

  At that moment, he could remember Brisa’s face when she encouraged him to forget teaching to have some fun with his daughter. It was hard to imagine Luis Montero buying a mermaid sleeping bag.

  Eventually, he accepted the handshake but tried to add some of his ex-wife’s new husband’s power to his grip. “I’m still figuring out how to be a good father. I haven’t had a lot of time in Thea’s life until now, but I hope I’ll know when to protect her and when to step back and let Thea be Thea.” He let go of Luis’s hand, hoping he’d made his point.

  “She already speaks her mind freely, doesn’t she, Wade?” Luis smiled. “Young fathers. Get back to me when her dream has changed from vegetarianism and becoming an astronaut to flying jets in war zones or the fifth failed business, the second broken engagement to men who had once been important clients or after a disastrously silly marriage to a mere boy, and an investment of millions in a townhome complex that can change lives. You may understand then that only firm guidance can keep them safe.”

  Wade propped his hands on his hips as he considered that. Luis had a valid point. Wade didn’t have much experience under his belt.

  But Wade did have the fresh memory of Thea’s easy hug, and her boundless enthusiasm. He didn’t want that to change.

  “Well, you might be right, but I hope when she comes to me with excitement in her eyes about whatever it is, whether it’s twinkle lights or pictures taken by the Mars rover, or this boy or that job or…whatever, I’m going to want it for her, too.” Wade hesitated. “I never had a father to tell me yes or no, so I made my own decisions. Eventually, my daughter won’t need me the way that she does now, if I do my job correctly. This is my only shot to convince her to come to me when she does make the wrong choice. I had no one, Luis. I don’t want that for Thea.”

  That was the worry that kept him up at night. He never wanted his daughter to feel as alone in this world as he had. She could be smart and strong, but that wouldn’t protect her from the fear that came with being on her own.

  He hadn’t been able to dig through all the lists of things he wanted to tell her, show her, give her to protect her until this moment, standing across from Luis Montero.

  The man was looking at him with a mixture of pity and anger and something else Wade couldn’t name.

  “No, you don’t.” Luis sighed. “I did have a father, one who took his job of teaching me to be a man seriously. He prepared me to come here and make something of myself. Cuba is so close, but my father couldn’t come here to save me from my mistakes. His lessons were hard but here I am, a success beyond his dream for me. I have given my daughters everything I can. All I want to know is that they will be successful, safe, secure.” He shook his head. “We are fathers. We teach our children. We protect them while we can. We worry when we cannot.”

  That honesty bled through Wade’s irritation. Luis’s words came from the heart.

  Luis stepped toward the door. “I believe we have the next two weeks to get you all situated, is that correct?”

  Wade wanted to argue, but he was so tired of shopping. He should insist on buying his own working desk chair and artwork.

  Trina probably had great taste. She passed Montero muster.

  “Yes, I’ll start shifts at the hospital then.” Wade rubbed his forehead. “I would appreciate your help, Luis. Setting up a whole new life has been overwhelming. I didn’t think I needed Concord Court, but I have to admit having the decision on where to move and getting through all the steps required, so easily, has been a huge weight off my shoulders.”

  Luis met his stare. “I’m glad. I know Brisa will be, as well. Concord Court is important to us all because it is a way to give back to the men and women who have risked so much. If we can improve there, I hope you will help us do so.” Then he left.

  The footsteps faded and Wade plopped back down in his chair and carefully tipped back to stare at the ceiling. “I’m going to sleep for two days straight.” He was tired.

  But he’d accomplished a lot so far to reestablish a life for himself, and for Thea, even if the unknown was still looming.

  He understood Luis Montero better now. He wa
s a father who was confused by his daughters. In that way, he and Wade were alike. Luis was holding them close and tightly, exhausting himself in the process. Wade wished that would work with Thea, but not even Luis Montero was successful with that technique.

  And he’d learned more about Brisa. She saw the strings her father held tightly. Did she understand why they were there?

  He liked them both a lot more.

  The urge to step into the middle of Montero family drama was strange, he realized, but Wade knew he’d do it again for her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ON FRIDAY NIGHT, Brisa had nearly hit her limit for time spent with her big sister. It had taken a lot, but being bossed by Reyna step-by-step over the course of an afternoon had accomplished setting up Brisa’s place. However, having Reyna’s help unpacking after the move across town had proved to be too much of a good thing. Brisa bit her tongue and tried to be grateful for the extra hands. Since the number of boxes remaining had dwindled to four, Reyna had to run out of steam soon.

  “As soon as we finish the kitchen cabinets, we’ll move on to hanging pictures,” Reyna said as she dried the final plate, slid it into place and picked up Brisa’s phone. “I’m going to text Sean to bring his tools. He should have locked up the office already. We’ve made so much progress since I got here.”

  Brisa pasted on a pleasant expression as she wiped her hands dry. Her manicure was shot. Avoiding dishpan hands had never been too big a challenge, thanks to dishwashers, restaurants and fast food, but Reyna had been determined every dish, pot and pan should be washed before it was put away.