"Boy, do I wish." Mariah smiled. "But until I can order a complete overhaul, how about we fix the things that we can?"
Mrs. Brand shifted, bumping the foot peg of her wheelchair. "What are you saying?"
"Well. I'm saying maybe you want to talk with a counselor or psychiatrist. They can give you good tools to deal with the frustration that comes along with chronic illnesses. Might help avoid hurting the people around you."
"That's not an issue," she snapped. And just like that, they were back to the irascible woman Mariah knew well. "Not sure why it matters, anyway. No one can fix what's wrong."
"Well. You matter. And my job is to help you as best I am able."
"Whatever that's worth." She sniffed.
"Mom! Please." Izzy leaned forward.
Mrs. Brand rolled her eyes.
"Come on, now." Mariah walked over and listened to the woman's heart and lungs, anything to redirect the negative emotions. She palpated her abdomen and checked her legs for swelling and adequate circulation. "Lungs sound better today. Let's continue with the antibiotics and steroids. It would be good to recheck you by the end of the week."
"Easy for you to say. Do you know how hard it is to get out here for an appointment? Especially when it's so cold out." The woman motioned toward the door.
"Mom, we'll get you here. Don't worry." Izzy patted her mother's arm even as she waved her off.
"Can you do anything that doesn't involve me leaving my house?" Ms. Brand said.
Mariah turned to the computer next to her and reviewed her work schedule for the week. The weariness worming through every inch of her body made her want to curl up and take a nap. Last weekend's call, a full workweek, and a scheduled ringside physician gig in Lander this weekend. At this point, adding one more item to the schedule could be the straw on the camel's back. But she had a job to do. "You know, I could probably do a home visit Thursday late afternoon if you'd prefer."
Izzy shook her head. "No. We can't ask you to do that. We live pretty far out of town."
"It's okay. I sometimes do home visits for patients who are homebound or it's a hardship for them to make the trip in for appointments."
"Are you sure?" Izzy asked. Her eyes locked onto Mariah, like Mariah was some kind of life buoy.
Mrs. Brand shook her head. "No way. I don't want her snooping around the ranch."
"Mom, come on. Dr. West is trying to help you."
"Fine, but she comes straight to the house and then she has to leave." Mrs. Brand struggled into her winter coat. "Let's go."
Izzy dropped her forehead onto her palm.
Mariah smiled. "It's decided, then. I'll see you Thursday." Glancing at her watch, she said, "Did you want some help getting out to the car? It's almost six, and most of the staff are gone."
"You don't have to—" Izzy started.
"'Bout time I got something for free," Mrs. Brand said, zipping her coat and pushing on the rims of the wheels, almost running over Mariah.
Jumping out of the way, Mariah got behind the wheelchair and maneuvered Mrs. Brand down the hall, waving at her medical assistant to leave. Then Mariah, Mrs. Brand, and Izzy went through the empty reception area, through the automatic doors, and into the cold night. This time of year, the sun went down early, and full night had fallen. Mariah hunched into her lab coat, a poor substitute for an insulated jacket.
Gloves would have been nice, too. The chilly wind cut right to her bones.
Above her, stars twinkled in the stark, clear sky. Temperatures were forecasted to be near zero tonight. Welcome to winter in Wyoming.
An uneasy sensation settled in her bones. Deeper than the chill. The feeling made her shoulder blades twitch. She glanced behind her, expecting to see something lurking there.
Nothing.
In the empty parking lot, they accompanied Mrs. Brand to a minivan in a handicapped spot. A bright parking lot light illuminated the vehicle from above. Rust bubbled the wheel wells, and dried mud and frozen slush coated the running boards.
Beneath the unending barrage of her mother's criticisms, Izzy heaved open the side door. She struggled to extend the heavy iron ramp.
"Sorry." One corner of Izzy's mouth rose. "Automated gate no longer automates."
"Technology, huh?" Mariah grabbed the other side of the large metal square and helped pull it down and fold a section out with a creak and a clank.
"Took you long enough. I'm freezing my venison off out here," Mrs. Brand grumbled as she tried to wheel herself onto the ramp. She made it a foot and rolled backward. With a grunt, Izzy pushed her mother's chair into the van.
A truck pulled up nearby, and the driver got out, his duster catching in the wind. He walked over with a slight limp.
"Hi Izzy." Kerr's face was half hidden beneath his hat. "How's it going?"
"Good, um. Nice to see you. We gotta go." Izzy turned her back on him to stow the ramp. Her attempts resulted in more clanks.
He frowned and reached down. "Can I help?"
She froze, then looked back over her shoulder. "Yeah. That would be great," she breathed, a smile lighting up her face for a moment.
"Who's out there? Is that one of those dirt-grubbing Taggarts?" Mrs. Brand hollered from the van, the dome light giving her face a skeletal, spidery appearance. "Get the hell away from my property."
"You can pick your nose, but can't pick your family," Izzy muttered.
Mariah and Kerr both covered laughs.
"Here, Iz, I've got it." Kerr hefted the solid ramp back in place like it weighed only a few pounds. He grinned at the car's occupant and tipped his Stetson. "Nice to see you, Mrs. Brand. You take care now." He slid the door closed on her profanity-laced response and brushed off his hands.
Izzy peeked up at him. Her exhausted expression transformed into one of exceptional beauty. "Thanks, Kerr. You, um, doing okay? With, the, uh...?"
He rubbed his thigh, almost as an absent motion. "Missing limb? Yep. Peachy."
A hand drifted to her mouth. "I didn't mean—"
All of a sudden, Mariah felt like a frigid third wheel as she stood there shivering. Behind her, she heard the front door of the hospital whoosh open.
Muffled epithets filtered from the depths of the van in front of her. The shadow of a raised claw fist inside the vehicle completed the surreal image as the van rocked.
Izzy scraped back her hair. "Man, my family puts the 'fun' in dysfunctional, huh?"
"Nothing in life is perfect, Iz." He stared at her, then shoved his hands in pockets. "Hey, if you ever want to grab a bite to eat, let me know."
"You... what?" she asked.
Kerr's smile fell. "Or not. No big deal."
"No. That sounds great, but I can't."
"Because of...?" He gestured generally toward his lower body.
"Geez, no. You're fine. I mean, of course you're fine. You're more than fine. Oh, heck. But we can't. Not because of your leg. Missing. Or not. Crap." Izzy palmed her forehead.
"Stressed much?" Kerr sucked on a tooth.
Out of the corner of Mariah's eye, a large man made a direct path from the front entrance of the hospital. The temperature on her skin dropped ten degrees, and the temperature in her chest rose twenty. She couldn't deal with another uncomfortable confrontation.
Vaughn strode toward her, his big work boots crunching snow and asphalt. Her heart rate sped up, but her stomach clenched, like she braced for a punch. Meanwhile, Romeo and Juliet were still flirting.
Let's go already, people.
"Iz, let me give you my number." Izzy held out the phone; Kerr punched in numbers. "Call me if you want, okay?" His casual smile turned into a tight grimace.
Izzy headed around the van, keys jingling in her hand. "See you Thursday, Dr. Mariah." She opened the door and a thick flow of invectives spilled out.
"G-good night," Mariah called.
"What's Thursday?" The sound of that deep male voice behind her slid straight down her spine to her... libido.
Izzy shut th
e car door and the cursing abruptly ceased once more.
Shivering harder, Mariah wrapped her arms over her chest and hurried back to the clinic, Vaughn keeping pace. Kerr trailed behind.
"Thursday?" Vaughn asked again, more gently. Like he was trying to be nice.
"That info is really HIPAA p-protected." Her teeth chattered. Icicles were probably forming in her eyeballs. God, it was cold out.
For his part, Vaughn wore jeans and a thin shirt, topped by his hip-length leather jacket. Unbuttoned, of course. And he didn't appear to be shivering at all. "You can't tell me?" he asked. But still with a calm tone and a disarming half smile. Like maybe he was a nice guy who had just had a bad couple of days and was trying to make up for it.
Mariah could appreciate someone who tried to be better. To be fair, she had seen how careful he was with his sister and how he'd stood up to Wyatt Brand on Mariah's behalf.
She, of all people, understood second chances.
Could she take another chance on him, after their rough beginning? She studied his earnest expression, crooked nose, hard jaw, and dark, intense eyes. Another shiver rippled down her spine, but it had nothing to do with the temperature.
While she owed him nothing, Mariah could at least keep an open mind. Frankly, she was intrigued. It was okay for a woman to want to know more about a guy. No rule against that at all.
"I c-can't tell anyone." At the main clinic entrance, she swiped her badge and the doors opened with a swoosh. She sighed as the heated air rushed over her.
"Bro, here are the keys." Kerr pointed toward the door to the main hospital. "I'm going thataway for the night shift with Shel. Anything new to report?"
"No. She's still sleeping. Nothing new, right?" He glanced over, brows raised.
"Not yet," Mariah said. "But she's stable."
"Stable." Vaughn's mouth pressed into a line. "Let me know if anything changes, okay?"
Kerr tipped his hat. "Will do."
In the low-lit reception area, Vaughn appeared tired and much older, like the weight of the world fell on his broad shoulders. She studied the strong lines of his frame, and the easy way he clasped hands with his brother.
"Night, Doc." Kerr smirked at her perusal of Vaughn's broad shoulders.
Her cheeks warmed. "Sure thing," she said to his retreating backside.
Which left Mariah and Vaughn alone in the empty reception area.
Chapter 11
Think, asshole. Come up with something intelligent to say to this woman.
Hell, Vaughn had been salivating all day in the hopes of seeing her again. And now that he had his wish?
His mind went blank.
Why had he left Shelby's room to meet Kerr in the parking lot? Because Vaughn's power urged him to protect Mariah from something out there. Only there wasn't anything there except Izzy Brand. And her grumpy but harmless mother.
A lingering headache was all that remained of the power surge. He rubbed his chin but stopped when Mariah's gaze locked onto the movement. A slow spiral of interest worked its way down his belly. Maybe he could atone for his behavior. Start fresh, or at least backpedal enough to give him a chance later.
When she chewed her lip with those even, white teeth, the situation in his groin grew critical in a hurry.
Simmer down, there.
"So, uh, can I walk you to your car?" he managed to say. With luck, he could make up for his tactless comments earlier today. And yesterday. And the day before. Christ.
She pulled her chin back and frowned. "Excuse me?" Pointing a thumb at her head, she smirked. "Thought you weren't a fan."
Heat crawled across his chest. "Well, crap. Look, I meant it–I'm real sorry about being short with you. It's just that... it doesn't matter why. Please accept my apology for being a jerk at the restaurant."
"And?" Those arms stayed crossed over her chest.
Man, she was going to make him say it. "And for snapping at you about Shelby. I shouldn't have taken out my stress on you."
Rocking back on her heels, she peered at him until sweat prickled under his arms. This woman might be five-foot-nothing, but she drove spikes of terror into him. He toed the clinic carpeting.
And waited.
He couldn't stand it. "Truce?"
"We weren't arguing. Besides, not everything is a fight."
Huh. "I... yeah, good point. Anyway, I'm sorry." He stuck out a hand and tried not to flinch as a wave of his power fired up when her palm met his. Then he tried not to hang on longer as a second wave of pure interest flowed through his arm into his ribcage. What the hell? His power was now getting mixed with straight-up lust. And while on the subject of not making sense, would it be too much to ask for him to act normal?
With effort, he stepped back, their hands dropping to their sides. "So. Walk you out?" Because his power needed him to do so.
"Well. Sure. I guess. You don't have to, you know."
"It's late and dark out." A prickle came and went over his temple. "I'd feel better..."
Another squint, and she shrugged. "Sure. Come on back for a minute while I grab my things." Motioning for him to follow her through the door to the clinic hallway, she added, "Everyone's gone home. I was running late all day today."
"Okay."
Okay? All you have to say to her is okay?
He followed her quick, efficient steps into a small office.
Her office contained a desk with a typical rolling chair behind it and two vinyl-covered side chairs in front. A corkboard on one wall had a million documents thumbtacked over every spare inch of space, and then some, judging by papers peeking out from under each other. On one corner of the desk rested a stack of energy bars and an empty coffee cup.
One picture on her desk showed Mariah, same shoulder-length brown hair and green eyes, her arm thrown around a male with facial features similar to hers. In the picture, she had on a black and red graduation gown with a green velvet sash around her neck. The happiness in those two faces shone right through the picture to taunt Vaughn.
Had he taken any picture like this with his siblings? Not in years. Life kept intruding. First his mom dying, then Kerr's return from Afghanistan, Vaughn's colossal fuckup with Garrison's wife, Dad's stroke, and now Shelby's coma.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Her cool mountain-stream voice banished his dark thoughts.
"No pictures of your parents?" he blurted.
A quick intake of breath and wide stare. The corners of her mouth drooped. Damn, it was amazing how quickly he could step in the manure. Like he was going for accuracy and speed.
He touched her shoulder, stopping her as she shrugged out of her white coat. "My bad. Stupid thing to say. Sorry."
"All right." She didn't offer an explanation, and it wasn't his business to ask for one.
When she hung the white coat on a hook behind the door, the flash of her work slacks and blouse on her petite frame distracted him from his frustrating thoughts of the past and instead grounded him firmly in the present. The definition of disappointment was when a thick wool coat hid her from view again.
"Ready?" She paused and glanced at him before she grabbed a pile of papers. Some slipped to the floor. Did her hands shake as she picked up the papers and replaced them on the desk? Not that it mattered to him.
"Of course." He motioned for her to precede him out the back door of the clinic.
In the dark, empty lot, he scanned the surrounding area, senses on alert. His gift flared again, and he didn't fight it, bracing against the headache and unclenching a fist as the ability reached out. Something dangerous had to be out here, but what? Maybe his power had gone haywire, like how Shelby and Garrison's abilities had changed. Would he end up in a coma, like his sister, if his power shifted enough?
Mariah's key beeped to unlock that stupid mini Cooper. He peeked inside the open front door and groaned, imagining his knees up to his chest in the seat.
She tossed her satchel into the passenger seat and turned back around.
"
So, interested in another try for a meal together?" The words burst out of him.
Dark brows flew up, and she sucked in a breath. "You sure? Because... things were a bit..."
Right. He had been a real prince.
Damn it, this woman wasn't like the others. She wasn't out to use him and betray him like his sister-in-law. Wouldn't get to know him because of his connections. Vaughn needed to deal with his past mistakes, move on, and quit taking out his gun-shy state on Mariah. Starting now.
"Have I mentioned that I'm sorry?"
"Yes, about three minutes ago. Hey, people have bad days, especially when someone they love is ill. I get it." The quick grip of her hand on his arm meant more to him than he cared to admit.
"Would you be interested in the bagels and coffee idea I originally proposed after our run-in with Wyatt Brand?"
She took a breath, making her coat fabric shush. When she exhaled, a plume of vapor drifted up into the cold night.
"So?"
"Oh." Crossing her arms, she leaned a hip against the edge of the vehicle. "I could go for a bagel and coffee. Any snack, really."
The woman had thrown him a golden opportunity. Don't mess it up. "Well, I didn't want to be too forward with food choices."
"Bagels are pretty extravagant." Her scrunched nose made his heart flop. "Hope you're a big spender, because I might get an everything bagel. Oh, and if it's your treat, I'll definitely order super fancy coffee."
The breath he had been holding finally released. He could play along. "Hold on a minute. We might need a spending limit on the drinks." What the actual hell? Vaughn attempting to flirt was like watching a grizzly bear perform ballet.
"All right, then. Fine. Super duper fancy coffee and bagel can wait until another time. I'll stick with the basics." Was that a flush on her cheeks or a response to the cold air? Hard to tell with the parking lot lighting.
"It's a deal." Hell, he'd buy her imported Irish coffee where the plant grew only on the shady side of the hills and was picked by left-handed leprechauns, if that's what she wanted.
"How about tonight?" she asked.
Damn it. Bad enough that he had to miss training time to be here with Shelby today, but he also had to avoid eating junk like bagels and sugary coffee. He still had another ten pounds to lose by Friday night. Even thinking about it made his stomach growl.
Legacy of Danger Page 8
