by Dana Volney
Henry didn’t miss a beat, rolling two snowballs quickly and pitching them at two boys on the outskirts of the fight.
Silver ran in a zigzag pattern away from the girls on the front lawn and circled Fisher and Henry.
“Just stand right there.” She pulled on Fisher’s shirt, forcing him to take two steps to his left, effectively making him and Henry her shield as she crouched behind them. She tossed a ball over their heads, and it crashed to the ground. Kendra and Ashley laughed, and then three boys whaling snow at them diverted their attention.
Fisher side-eyed Henry. He knew what his best friend was already thinking. But, no, Henry was wrong. He was not interested in Silver beyond her capacity to volunteer.
“Whew.” She stood.
He and Henry turned to face her as she put her hands on her hips. “They have great aim.”
“It’s the apps and video games. Gives them great hand-eye coordination.” Henry stuck out his arm. “Henry.” She shook his hand, and her gaze dropped to his gloves.
“Silver.” Her eyes widened, and she shoved her hands in her coat pocket, producing red gloves. “I knew I was forgetting something.” She jammed them over her hands and rubbed her palms together.
“You’ve got quite the party going on out here.” Henry glanced quickly at Fisher before settling back on Silver.
“And you saw it from downtown and decided you’d had enough of your boring day?” Fisher raised a brow. Henry had come to check up on him. He’d worried his friend. It wasn’t how he’d wanted the news to sit, but Henry was going to have to come to terms with it.
Henry’s jaw moved side to side before he wiped all concern from his face and replaced it with a fake-as-hell grin Fisher had seen him use too many times to count. “Got off work early and thought I’d stop in.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire. Henry hadn’t left work early or taken a full weekend in years. He was worried and didn’t need to be. Fisher had come to grips with his situation already. There was nothing anyone could say to change his mind now. Not even Henry.
• • •
Silver brushed the snow off her jacket and pants, stomping her boots on the entry carpet. She took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth, wiping a couple drops of perspiration from her forehead. Snowball fights were hard work.
“What do you do, Henry?” she asked, sizing up the two men. There hadn’t been a mention of any siblings in Fisher’s file.
“Attorney.”
“He left out the cutthroat part.” Fisher wiped his red hands on his jeans. He wasn’t even wearing a jacket. And he was breathing hard again. She bit back a chastising comment about wearing a jacket and not overexerting himself … but he didn’t know she knew about his health. And she wasn’t exactly upset about their close contact on the ground, in the snow, like a dang movie.
Why hadn’t Henry been able to convince Fisher to stay on the transplant list? Was he okay with him dying? She got the lawyer thing; he looked like a charmer with his dark hair, good posture, and that presence about him. A real talker. If he couldn’t persuade Fisher, how was she supposed to?
“We’re done for the night.” The abruptness of Fisher’s voice brought her back to the moment. “I’ll give them a few more minutes then close it down. You can go.”
She smiled tightly. Today she’d failed. Good thing she was coming back to help stuff backpacks. She had to regroup and come up with a better plan. There was no denying now that Fisher should stay on the list. He had way too much to give. He couldn’t die.
chapter FOUR
Fisher ordered another coke from the counter at the fundraiser. The only reason he was here, the only reason he ever wanted to be any place there were fancy people, was to get his organization out there. He was the face of it. If he didn’t show up and remind people that CCH still existed, they forgot and so did their pocketbooks come donation time. And Thanksgiving and Christmas was a big time for him.
This was the seventh event he’d been to in a month. There were five more on his schedule before the new year.
“Should I be surprised you’re here?” A silky voice caused him to spin halfway around.
He was met with a smile lined in red, lashes flush with mascara, and a grin. A pull deep in his gut volunteered a smile in return. “Doctors have to be at fundraisers now?”
“When they work for a hospital that wants to expand its infrastructure, they sure do.”
When she leaned in to order a ginger ale from the bartender, the tight black dress that cut off at her knees rounded against her butt. The woman had a great body, and the modest yet sexy-as-hell dress she wore did nothing to cover her curves. Not to mention it was complete with red heels that matched her lipstick.
“And you’re not even drinking. You really are a saint.” He took a sip of pop from his green glass to stop himself from continuing to compliment her. At this rate he was going to be waxing poetic by the time she got her glass.
Not to generalize, but he’d always had good experiences with doctors, even if the situation didn’t turn out well.
“Not yet. Pacing is crucial at these events.” She winked and sipped from her red glass, a curl behind her ear escaping her up-do and resting on her collarbone.
“Miranda is doing well, by the way. Her mom called to give an update. She’ll be back next week. She wanted me to thank you.”
“That’s great news.” Silver turned to the crowd, scanning faces.
The Ellisons were the hosts for the evening. There was no particular business or nonprofit benefiting tonight, but for a number of years now the family had offered a holiday party that was the who’s who of Casper. It was a night not to be missed if networking was your goal. Fisher had already spoken to his major contributors and secured their continued support. The only foundation left to get face-to-face time with was the Ellisons themselves. He’d yet to get them onboard, and it would help out substantially with rising costs if he could get his foot in the door. Not to mention the sustainability of the place once he was gone. The more money he could secure now, the better chance CCH had at being something that didn’t die with him.
“I bet this is a gold mine for you.” She took a step forward, inviting him into the crowd.
His feet moved without a second thought. He’d worn dark jeans, a black button-up shirt instead of his preferred flannel, and black loafers for the occasion. This was as dressed up as he got.
But since when did doctors fundraise?
Job security in tough times, perhaps. Although he couldn’t imagine her not being sought after if yesterday’s performance was any indication of how good she was with patients.
Most of the guests were dressed like Silver, very put together in holiday colors, and the venue, a historical home a few blocks from CCH, was decorated in golds and silvers to complete the festive atmosphere. Perfection. Nothing out of place, no homemade drawings or ornaments all on one side of the tree.
“So, what do you do for fun?” Silver took a drink, and he followed her lips to a cherry lying on top of the ice cubes.
“Fun? What’s that?” He wrinkled his forehead to go along with the sarcasm. “I believe one has to have free time for that.”
“There’s got to be something.”
“CCH is my fun. Not a lot of time for anything else. What’s the saying … love what you do, and it won’t be work.” He raised his glass to his lips but didn’t drink. “Henry usually talks me into softball intramurals in the summer and a bowling league in the winter.” Sharing information with her was easy. Too easy.
He didn’t need to be getting into any sort of friendship. He was just about to excuse himself when a man came up on Silver’s side and hugged her.
“Blake.” She smiled warmly, and a pull deep in Fisher’s chest wanted her to focus her happiness on him. “It’s so nice to see you again. This is Fisher Tibbs. He runs Combat Children’s Hunger.”
“Nice to meet you.” Fisher shook Blake Ellison’s hand.
&nb
sp; “I haven’t seen you and Halle in forever.” Silver didn’t miss a beat. “Are you coming to the Christmas party at Carrigan’s Pub this year?”
“Yeah, it’s on the calendar,” Blake said. “It’ll be nice to finally go to a holiday party and bring the kiddo. Two hasn’t been as bad as everyone said it would be.” Blake took a swig from his beer.
“It’s not the twos you have to watch out for but the threes.” Fisher raised his brows. “They’re mobile and have no fear.” Megpie may have been sick, but she’d still been a toddler testing boundaries. But he’d take Maggie at any age if it meant she was still alive.
“Let’s hope it’s none of the above. Especially since we’re expecting.” The proud dad put his hands in his pockets, thumbs out, and rocked back on his heels. “Which is why Halle isn’t here tonight. That morning sickness is rough this go-round. All food smells seem to trigger her in the evening. She’s tried everything.”
“There’s an herbal store downtown. They’ve got an anise tea that’s usually pretty effective.” Dammit, he needed to shut his trap. Why in the world was he giving advice on morning sickness to someone he didn’t know? It was Silver—he spoke freely around her for some dumb reason. He sipped his drink and glanced around the room, shutting down his involvement.
“I’ll pass that along.”
“Congratulations.” Silver squeezed Blake’s arm. “I’m sure her OB is giving her excellent care, but if she needs anything or has questions, have her give me a call.”
“Will do.”
“Speaking of help”—Silver’s gaze volleyed between them—“who does Fisher need to talk to in order to submit a request for funding?”
This gal had some gumption. He liked it. His jaw tightened. No, he didn’t like it; he just needed her boldness to help his organization.
“That would be Melissa.” Blake reached into his back pocket, pulling a card from his leather wallet. “Here’s her card. Tell her I told you to call and set up a meeting.”
“Slick.” Silver glanced down at his wallet. “I see someone prepared for the season.”
“I don’t make those decisions, nor do I remember all the phone numbers,” Blake said. “The cards are necessary to get people where they need to go.”
“Speaking of which, we better snag the mayor before he leaves.” She gazed at Fisher and smiled. Her “we” meant him and her. “It was so nice to see you.”
“Thanks.” Fisher held up the business card and nodded at Blake and followed Silver through the groups gathered throughout the room.
“You go back with Blake Ellison?” Oh, good, he did know how to use his voice without volunteering personal information. He could’ve piped up more back there, but he was too in awe of how she worked, how effortlessly she chatted up Blake and made a contact for him in the process. What other skills did the woman have?
“My sister-in-law’s brother is married to Blake’s sister.” Her eyes danced around as she connected the dots, their arms nearly touching. “Yeah, I think that’s right. Anyway, we all went to high school around the same time. Small town.”
If it were such a small town, he would’ve met Silver years ago. When he was in a better place. Nah, it wouldn’t have mattered. His heart condition had been around since high school; a lasting relationship wasn’t meant to be in his world.
“Thanks for introducing us. You didn’t have to bring up CCH.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I get carried away when something is on my mind.”
“It’s okay.” Even when she was unsure, her features were stunning. Her cute round nose was in perfect proportion to her creamy face. “I appreciate the in.” A smile escaped his lips. “Can’t get CCH off your mind, huh?” Fisher glanced around but didn’t see the mayor.
“Something like that. You have a good thing going on over there.” She stood close to him, no doubt so they could hear each other over the noise, and when she turned, her red lips caught his attention for a moment. His lips tingled to capture hers.
One stolen glance.
Except it wasn’t stolen. She’d witnessed him watch her lips. Her expression was unreadable.
He resisted the urge to clear his throat. “I don’t see the mayor.” In fact, he hadn’t seen the mayor all night. What is your game, Silver?
“Short and sweet. That’s the secret to winning at these things.”
“I’ll have to remember that.” Except she hadn’t left him behind or kept their conversation brief.
“Finally.” A woman in a white, knee-length dress linked her arm with Silver’s. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“I wasn’t hiding. Lorelei, this is Fisher. Fisher, Lorelei.” She bounced her cup between the two, and Fisher shook the brown-haired woman’s hand. “Fisher runs Combat Children’s Hunger.”
“Oh.” Lorelei’s voice rose along with her brows, amusement skittering across her features. “I get it now.”
Silver jabbed her in the side, and he held back a chuckle.
“I’m so glad Silver is getting involved again. It’s good for her.” Lorelei’s attention was diverted. “Gotta go.” She walked straight past him, not looking back.
Okay then, that was a drive-by conversation full of meaning. Why did Silver need to get involved again?
“Best friend.” Silver took a breath. “Whaddaya do?” She drank from her glass and glanced around the room.
“What prompted you to volunteer at CCH?” Fisher asked. “There are other places in town that need help, some even medical. You certainly have a lot to do with your time, I’m sure.”
She raised her glass to her lips and kept her gaze on his. Panic seemed to flit across her face. Had she not wanted to volunteer?
“I miss helping out. I’ve been back for a year now and wanted to dive back in.” She glanced away, rubbing her lips together and swaying on her feet. If there’d been music playing, he’d have had half a mind to ask her to dance. It was a good thing the other half of his brain would totally prohibit that. No good could come out of him wanting to dance with her or flirt with her or kiss her.
That was it. He scanned the room for a place to set his glass for the wait staff. He had to get out of here. Fantasies were starting. A connection was forming, and there was no room in his life for any of this. Second-guessing himself now wouldn’t bring him happiness or peace—it would just stir up a decade of frustration.
He’d made his decision, and he was good with it. End of story.
“You know the tree-lighting ceremony is next week,” she said. “I haven’t been in forever.”
He stopped looking for an exit and locked eyes with her. “A bunch of the kids from CCH are singing and have been insistent I come see them.” He set his glass on a tray by a table covered in gold decorations and sweets. It was past his time to say good-bye to Silver. His body started to tense.
“Do you want to go together? I make the best hot chocolate.”
His heart started pumping faster, and his breathing wasn’t as easy, but he didn’t take a deep breath or make a big deal out of it. He never did. Usually, though, when he had trouble with oxygen it was because of overexertion. Not a question from a stunning woman.
He told his feet to move and his tongue to utter, “no, thank you,” but nothing happened. “Sounds good” came out of his mouth instead. His brain just didn’t know how to listen when it came to Silver. He ground his teeth together. He’d agreed only because he was a gentleman and was planning on going regardless. If he’d said no and then bumped into her there, it would have been awkward. “I’m going to call it a night. I have some things to do at CCH.”
After next week, he’d make sure to only see her when she volunteered.
• • •
Something was off with Fisher. She let her gaze roam over him—looking for what, she didn’t know. Wait. Was there a little perspiration on his forehead? She grabbed for his right palm. Yep. Clammy. She started to raise her eyes to his chest to watch his breathing when his body
jerked. His face whipped toward the exit, his eyebrows knitted together.
“You’re headed to CCH this late?” Silver wrinkled her nose. She didn’t have to dig her phone out of her clutch to know it was past ten.
“There’s a truck that needs to be unloaded by morning. If I do it now, then I can sleep in a little.” He slowly gazed down at her hand holding his.
Whoops. Doctor mode was automatic, and she couldn’t tell him why. She dropped his palm and crossed her arms over her chest, looking around the room. “I’ll go with you.” She raised her brows, pressed her lips together, and headed to the coat check. He wasn’t getting a chance to say no. She couldn’t leave him alone. Her insides started to twist; that last piece of cheesecake she’d indulged in at Lorelei’s for dinner before coming to the party hadn’t been such a good idea.
She found him by the door just as she buttoned the top button on her black trench coat, slipping her gloves on as the brisk night air hit her face.
“I can follow you,” she said. That was dumb; they both knew where CCH was, and there was no traffic this time of night.
“I walked here.” He put his hands in the pockets of his black Carhartt jacket. She hadn’t seen him at the coat check—where had he stashed it?
“I’ll walk with you. It’s a nice night.” And the lies just rolled off her tongue at this point. An ice cream cone was nice, celebrating Christmas in July was nice, walking three blocks in freezing temperatures in a dress and heels was definitely not nice.
He swiveled in her direction and raised an eyebrow. “I’ll drive you back to your car when we’re done.”
“Deal.”
Now what was she going to do? Point out all the symptoms that anyone with any medical knowledge should be concerned about? No. She bit her lower lip. She couldn’t, because those symptoms were only symptoms if she knew his full background. And he hadn’t told her that. Yet.
