He leaned his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor as Katie half talked, half cried into the phone. After reassuring her that he was on his way, he ended the call and tucked the phone back in his pocket.
“Gotta go.”
“She okay?” Jules frowned slightly.
“Yeah. The baby’s got a bit of temp is all.”
“First child.”
Carter nodded and grinned. “First child, first fever, and first time Ben’s been out of town since the baby was born.”
“Oooh,” Rossick laughed. “Good luck with that.”
“Are you guys going back to the city?” He pushed out of the chair and headed for the door.
“Yeah. You coming down later?”
“Depends on Katie.”
“Whatever, man,” Rossick scoffed. “You’re just pulling the sick-baby card to get out of packing, but don’t you worry—I’ll make sure there’s lots left for you to do.”
The last thing Carter heard before he closed the door was Jules’s long groan. “I wonder if it’s too late to hire movers.”
—
Katie and the baby were both crying when Carter arrived.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffed. “I don’t know why I’m like this.”
“It’s fine.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and steered her back to the nursery. “Lay her on the changing table and we’ll have a look.”
He checked her ears, gently probed around her neck, then warmed his stethoscope and pressed it against her chest. Her cheeks were a little dry, and a little red, but other than a slight temperature, she was fine.
“Ninety-nine point two.” He held the thermometer up for Katie to see. “Already lower than when you called.”
“She’s just so little,” Katie sniffed. “And she’s never been sick before.”
“Still nursing?” Carter wrapped Sophia in the pink receiving blanket, cradled her in the crook of his left arm, then wrapped his right around Katie’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “She’ll be fine. D’you have a medicine dropper?”
When she pulled one out of the cupboard, Carter traded the baby for the dropper and sent Katie to the living room while he washed the dropper out and filled a glass with cool water. “Try to keep her hydrated as much as you can.”
He filled the dropper, eased the tip inside the baby’s mouth and squeezed the bulb gently. She pushed her tongue against it at first but eventually got the hang of it and managed to swallow a little bit.
The worry lines on Katie’s face eased a little, but didn’t vanish completely.
“Want me to stay?”
“Would you mind?” She hiccupped over a sniffle and swiped her sleeve across her eyes. “I know I’m being stupid, but I can’t help it, and with Ben out of town…don’t you dare tell Nick about this!”
“Doctor-patient confidentiality.” Carter grinned, made himself comfortable in one of the big armchairs, and held his arms up until Katie gave him back the baby.
“Coffee?”
“Sure, thanks.” He settled Sophia in the crook of his arm, flicked on the TV, and called over his shoulder to Katie. “And I wouldn’t say no to a sandwich!”
A soft snort was his only answer. He surfed channels until he found the hockey game, then set the remote down and crossed his feet on top of the coffee table with Sophie tucked up against him.
With her pudgy little fist wrapped around his pinkie finger, he continued to ease the dropper into her mouth little bits at a time, all the while explaining in a low voice the finer points of hockey, which he was pretty sure neither Ben nor Katie had bothered to explain yet. The kid was five months old and had probably never even heard the word puck before.
So wrong.
“Want me to take her?” Katie asked, setting his coffee and sandwich on the side table.
“Nope, we’re good.” He tugged his finger out of her grip only long enough to give her some more water and to wolf back his sandwich, then he let her have it again, not minding one little bit that his coffee went cold. For such a tiny little thing, she could sure hold on tight. Amazing.
“So,” Katie drawled out. “You and Regan? How’s that going?”
“There is no ‘me and Regan.’ ” He shrugged slowly, keeping his gaze fixed on the game until Katie’s snort made him and the baby start.
“What’s the matter—you losing your magic touch or something?”
There’d never been anything magic about his touch, at least not until the other night when he’d touched Regan for the first time. Just thinking about how she’d shivered, how it started at the top of her head and rippled down her spine, how she’d tried to hide it and couldn’t…whew. It was the exact same thing he’d felt sitting under that stupid cape while she cut his hair, running her soft cool fingers along the back of his neck and against his ears.
Rock-hard that fast; it was like he was sixteen all over again, but Katie sure as hell didn’t need to know that, especially since there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
“Rossick and Jules hired her at the clinic.” He moved his finger back and forth slowly, smiling down at little Sophia when she stuck her tongue out.
“Which means hands off?”
“Something like that.”
“Hmm. That’s too bad.” The teasing in her voice slipped away. “But maybe it’s for the best.”
“Meaning?”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I like Regan, but sometimes I wonder if maybe Ben’s right about her. I mean, take Leon for example. Perfectly nice guy and she turns her nose up at him—and he’s not the first one she’s done that to.”
“Yeah, but she was right about him; he does seem like a guy out looking for a wife, and if she’s not looking for that, why bother?”
“Maybe,” Katie sniffed absently. “But what about her salon closing? There’s no reason she couldn’t go work at one of those other places but she refuses. And why is that? Does she think she’s too good to work in someone else’s salon?”
“She told me she and the owner of the other place didn’t see eye to eye on a few things.”
“Yeah, I can just imagine what those things might be. And what was the deal with her leaving on New Year’s Eve? It’s not the first time she and Ben have gone a round or two, but she up and leaves so everyone thinks her poor little feelings are so hurt she can’t possibly stay another minute? Please.” Collecting Carter’s plate and still-full mug, Katie shrugged as she headed to the kitchen. “I’m not saying I think she’s the prima donna Ben does, but I do think she’s a little…I don’t know…prima donna–ish.”
Carter lifted the baby’s hand and blew a raspberry against her palm.
“I don’t know, Soph,” he murmured. “Regan seems okay to me. What do you think?”
In the wise way babies have, Sophia just stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry back at him.
By the time the hockey game ended, Katie was snoozing on the couch and Sophia was fast asleep on his chest with her forehead pushed up against the side of his neck. Carter shut off the TV and eased out of the chair, but Katie was awake before he could take a step.
“Here,” Katie whispered. “I’ll feed her first and put her to bed.”
“Yeah, okay.” He rubbed his eyes and stretched as long as he could. If it wasn’t too late, he’d head over to Reg—wrong, he’d head into the city. “What time is it?”
“Almost eleven. Why don’t you go crash in the spare room?”
Not exactly where he’d hoped to spend the night, but it’s not like he could go to Regan’s and he sure as hell didn’t feel like driving all the way back to the apartment in Vancouver, so his only other option was going over to Nick and Jayne’s, and since he’d already interrupted them once this week, he opted for the too-short single bed with the thin pillow and pink overstuffed quilt.
Beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Chapter Six
“Sorry, sweetheart, I haven’t got time for anything else.”
> Han Solo, The Empire Strikes Back
For the rest of the week, Regan ran from one appointment to another, with barely enough time to grab coffee in between. Maya thought she was crazy, but she didn’t care. Working at the clinic wasn’t going to earn her any more than what she made at the salon, which was fine, but if she had any hope of opening her own place again, she’d need to do everything she could to keep as many clients as possible.
It had taken most of Sunday morning, but she’d finally managed to rearrange the coming weeks until all appointments were rescheduled for early mornings, evenings, or weekends. She’d make herself available whenever they needed her, with the exception of Tuesday nights.
Nothing interfered with Girls’ Night.
She’d just hung up from her final call when a knock sounded on her door.
“It’s open!”
“Hey.” The grin, the eyes, the way he stood there rubbing his earlobe; it was enough to make even the rational side of her quiver a little as the girlie side scrambled to take the lead on this.
“Hi.” Her knee poked out of the rip in her jeans when she walked, her old gray T-shirt was covered in bleach stains, and her hair was piled up on top of her head in what was probably the ugliest knot she’d ever tied, but none of that mattered just then. All that mattered was trying to control the sudden onslaught of butterflies diving through her stomach.
What the hell?
She hadn’t talked to him since that day at the clinic, but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about him. Probably too much, actually. He was supposed to have been a distraction; he wasn’t supposed to be distracting. Regan shuffled to a stop a couple feet away, stuffed her hands deep in her pockets, and motioned toward the living room with her elbow.
“Come on in.”
He took a step inside, but didn’t come any closer. “I was thinking if you weren’t busy, we could take that ride.”
“Ride? On your bike?” The butterflies were back, and they brought friends. Lots of friends. She took a step back, bumped into the tub chair behind her, then grabbed it for support. “Oooh, I don’t know.”
“What’s to know?” Carter nodded toward the window where the afternoon sun hung high and bright. “Road’s dry, sky’s blue, and if what they’re saying is true, that’s all going to change tomorrow and then the bike’ll be put away again.”
“Yeah, but…um…”
“Come on, Red. You’re not gonna chicken out, are you?” Damn that grin.
Regan all but choked on the panic as she forced it back down her throat. It was just a motorcycle—okay, a huge loud motorcycle—but how scary could it be, really? Not everyone died in horrific bike crashes. Hell, the guy on Hawaii Five-O rode one without a helmet!
Helmet! That was her excuse.
“I don’t have a helmet.”
“I’ve got one for you.”
Crap! Did he have to stare at her like that—like it was no big deal that he was asking her to climb on the back of a death trap with him? What had possessed her to even suggest such a thing in the first place? Oh, she knew damn well what: she’d been blinded by the way he’d stood there in her salon, so close, looking at her with those sexy freakin’ dark eyes of his, and rubbing his earlobe the way he did, all cute and everything.
Regan chewed her lip for a long time, then forced her throat to swallow. “Do you swear you won’t crash into anything?”
“I swear I’ll try not to.”
“Or anyone?”
“Or anyone,” he repeated. “I just can’t promise someone else won’t crash into us.”
“Oh God.” She started to back away, but Carter was rushing her, talking so fast she could hardly keep up.
“Where’s your coat? Mitts? D’you have boots?”
“I…what? Yeah. Oh God, gimme a second.”
She started for the bedroom, but Carter called her back, lifted his hand and released her hair from the knot.
“Oh.” Her sigh caught her by surprise, but it made his smile soften.
“You’ll never get the helmet on with it up like that.” He turned her around and gave her a gentle shove. “Coat. Boots. Jeans with no holes. Gloves. Go.”
He stood at the door waiting while Regan ran to change. Was she crazy? She didn’t do dangerous things and she sure as hell didn’t do things that scared her, but one look back at Carter, his mouth curled in a smile, was all it took to convince her.
“Got your keys?”
“It’s fine,” she muttered, tucking her ID in one pocket and her phone in the other. “Nobody locks their door in this building.”
She followed Carter outside to his bike where he nodded at the helmet hanging off the handlebars.
“That one’s yours.”
Regan glared hard at the helmet, then at him. “It’s pink.”
“What’s wrong with that?” He cocked a grin at her as he fastened his own black helmet on his head, and slipped on a pair of sunglasses. “Thought chicks liked pink.”
“I’m not a chick,” she muttered. “And it clashes with my hair.”
“It clashes—” Carter laughed so loud he scared the lady walking her dog across the street. “Oh my God, you’re a total chick. Come here.”
He adjusted the ugly pink helmet on her head, tapped the top, and frowned down at her. “Is that the best you have for gloves?”
Regan shrugged down at her black stretchy mini gloves. “They’ll be fine.”
He sighed, showed her where to put her feet, then climbed on in front of her and fired the bike up. A burst of hysteria shot out of Regan in a gasping laugh. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squealed through clenched teeth as he pulled away from the curb and eased the bike down the street.
They stopped for the red light, but as soon as it turned green, Carter gunned it north up the highway, his foot shifting gears, his hands working the accelerator and clutch, and Regan shrieking like a little girl.
Pressed against his back the way she was, it was almost impossible to keep her helmet from bashing against his, and when he tipped his head toward her and yelled at her to relax, she unintentionally cracked them together hard. The road whizzed by beneath them, the sun’s warmth smothered by icy wind that gnawed through her gloves and whipped tears from her eyes.
She’d driven the winding road to Whistler hundreds of times before, but it didn’t take long to realize it was a completely different trip on the back of Carter’s bike.
Thick marshmallowy snow draped the Tantalus Mountain Range as though it had been poured like topping on a sundae. Towering firs and lodgepole pines crowded both sides of the highway past Brohm Lake and down into the canyon, where they eventually gave way to huge red cedars and western hemlocks so deep and thick it was impossible to see through them.
And the air…had it ever felt so crisp, so clean?
A slow calm began to wash over her, a sense of freedom she’d never imagined, until she eventually loosened her grip on Carter. Not a lot, mind, but at least she could sit back enough to stop their helmets from crashing together.
What an idiot she’d been to worry. Riding a bike wasn’t so scary; it was actually kind of relax—
Whoa!
The bike swerved to the left and pulled into the passing lane as Carter accelerated past a long tandem fuel truck. Regan held on for all she was worth, squealing as they sped by all twenty-eight of the truck’s enormous spinning wheels, and praying they didn’t get sucked under.
By the time they pulled up to the front of the truck, she’d managed to contain her squealing to gasps of hysterical laughter, and even though she grinned up at the waving truck driver, she wasn’t about to do something stupid like let go of Carter so she could wave back.
The highway remained clear and dry the whole way, but by the time they reached Brandywine Falls, snow blanketed both sides of the road in thick sparkling drifts and the trees sagged under the extra weight.
She’d never seen anything so perfect.
Whil
e they waited for the light to change at Function Junction, Carter turned so she could hear him. “Food.”
He turned left, parked outside a corner diner, and helped Regan climb off the bike. She was gushing before her first foot hit the ground.
“Oh-my-God-that-was-so-cool!”
She fumbled with the helmet until he brushed her clumsy hands away and unfastened it himself. His dark sunglasses made it impossible to see his eyes, but even before he pulled them off, she knew they’d be all crinkled at the edges.
They found a booth near the window and smiled their thanks to the waitress when she handed them menus and filled their coffee cups. The girl was so busy staring at Carter she overfilled Regan’s mug, sloshing coffee over the sides and across the fingers of Regan’s gloves.
“Oh,” the girl gasped. “I’m so sorry. Let me—”
“It’s okay,” Regan laughed quietly and helped her mop it up with a stack of napkins. The gloves would have been useless on the ride home anyway because she’d managed to poke four holes through them on the ride up; that’s what she got for holding on so tight and for buying the cheapest gloves in town.
After the mortified girl left, a wad of dripping napkins on her tray, Regan immediately wrapped both hands around the warm mug and let the heat soak in as she gave the one-sided menu a quick glance.
“Jeez.” Carter stretched upright, winking at her as he did. “I think you might’ve cracked a couple ribs.”
He could tease her all he liked, that ride was one of the best times she’d ever had. Who knew something could be so terrifying and so much fun all at the same time?
When the waitress returned, Carter ordered a burger but Regan just shook her head and handed the menu back. As soon as her hand was free, Carter pulled it into his, rubbing the circulation back into it. Regan made a halfhearted attempt to free it, but when he resisted, she let it be. After all, what was the harm in it? Sure, it made her insides swirl, and yeah, the feel of his hands on her brought back all kinds of visions from New Year’s Eve, but she could just force all that out of her mind, right?
Okay, maybe not. Damn it.
“Is it always like that when you ride?”
Prima Donna Page 10
