Emergency: Parents Needed

by Jessica Matthews

  With cool aim, the game began. By the time he’d struck all the solids into the pockets, Maggie had managed to remove one stripe from the surface. “I told you I was terrible,” she said, clearly unfazed by her lack of skill.

  “You just need a few pointers,” he said.

  “More than a few, I’m sure.”

  Joe patiently demonstrated everything from the proper grip to positioning the cue. “Just remember to take your time and aim,” he finished. “Now it’s your turn.”

  He told himself to pay attention to her technique, but it was too easy to watch her bend over the table and notice how her jeans fit her long legs like a tailor-made glove. Her curly hair, brushed to a shine, hung free over her shoulders. The soft, velvety fabric of her long-sleeved purple top drew his notice as it screamed, Touch me. What the material didn’t do for his libido, the curvaceous swell revealed by the scoop neckline did.

  “Did I do it right?” she asked as she straightened after making her shot.

  He shifted position to ease the sudden tightness in his own jeans. “Yeah, sure.”

  She tilted her head as she studied him. “Do I have steak sauce on my chin?”

  “No, why?”

  “Because you’re staring.”

  “Sorry. You just look…fantastic.”

  Her skin turned rosy. “Thanks,” she said. “Should I try another shot on my own or should I watch you instead?”

  And miss out on his view? Not a chance. Yet it was dangerous to help her in the way he wanted—to place his hands over hers, to bend over her as she leaned on the table while he guided her shot. Yeah, it was dangerous, but he lived for danger.

  “I have a better idea. I’ll help you.” As she leaned on the table, he bent himself to fit over her. Conscious of every delectably soft inch, her light scent and the tickle of her hair against his chin, his throat grew parched. “Hold your cue like this.”

  His palms itched against her hands and he wanted to forget playing pool so he could carry her out and find a quiet place to play something else. Something more physical. Something that would satisfy his aches.

  Instead, he simply inhaled and guided her hands to take the shot. “Keep your eye on the ball,” he told her, wishing he could focus his gaze on her instead.

  He took the shot. As soon as the two balls smacked each other, he quickly stood up out of a sense of self-preservation. He would have been happy to hold that position for hours if need be, but there were a lot of striped balls left, waiting to join their buddies in the side pockets. He intended to help her send each and every one there.

  Yellow-and-white shot home and Maggie’s face lit up with excitement. She raised her hand to high-five him. “We did it. Can we try that again?”

  As if she had to ask…“Sure.”

  By the time they’d cleared the table, he was certain the room temperature had risen twenty degrees.

  “Can we play another round?” Maggie asked, clearly excited by her success.

  No doubt about it—he was a glutton for punishment. “Yes. How about a refill of your tea, or would you prefer something stronger?”

  “Tea is fine.”

  He raised his hand to attract their waitress, but it was clear that Gabby, the thirty-year-old brunette who waited on him regularly, was heading toward them.

  “I hate to bother you when you’re off duty,” Gabby began, her forehead furrowed with concern. “But one of my customers doesn’t look very well.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “From what I’ve seen, he keeps rubbing his chest and his color is off. His wife suggested calling an ambulance, but he says it’s indigestion. I’ve seen plenty of indigestion in my time, but…” She shook her head. “Anyway, I told him we had a paramedic here tonight and asked if he’d let you check him out. He didn’t want to, but after his wife badgered him, he agreed. So, please, Joe? I know you’re not on duty and you don’t have any of your equipment, but I’d really rather not have any drama here tonight.”

  Joe glanced at Maggie. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all. Lead the way.”

  As soon as they were within a table-length’s distance of the booth where a middle-aged man was seated with his wife, Joe saw him clutch his chest, then tumble off the padded bench.

  Maggie heard Joe’s softly spoken “Damn” before he sprinted forward with her at his heels.

  “Call 911,” she told the waitress as she helped Joe position the man on the floor. “And ask someone to clear some space for us and the ambulance.”

  Helpful bystanders scurried into action. By the time she’d turned her attention back to Joe’s patient, Joe was feeling the man’s carotid with one hand.

  “It’s his heart, isn’t it?” his wife said from her place in the booth. “I told Vernon we should stay home but, no, does he listen?”

  “Has he had heart problems before?” Maggie asked.

  “None.”

  “I can’t feel a pulse,” Joe said as he ripped open the man’s shirt. “No respirations.”

  Maggie tilted Vernon’s head so she could breathe for him as Joe began chest compressions.

  A distant siren grew louder, but Maggie didn’t pay attention to the noise. She was too busy watching Joe so she could obey his terse commands.

  A blast of cold air entered with the paramedic team from Fire Station Three. “Hope you boys brought your defibrillator,” Joe huffed.

  “Wouldn’t leave home without it,” Aaron McElroy said as he set the case on the floor and opened it.

  Maggie moved out of the way, noticing how Joe remained in the thick of things. As soon as Aaron had successfully restored the patient’s sinus rhythm, his partner had established an IV and Joe had regulated the oxygen flow, Maggie helped the men lift Vernon onto the stretcher.

  Minutes later the ambulance took off, leaving nothing behind except a few paper wrappers and Vernon’s distraught wife.

  “Would you like a ride to the hospital?” Joe asked her kindly.

  She seemed nervous and uncertain. “Our car’s in the parking lot, but I don’t think I can drive.” She held out her hands. “I’m shaking like a leaf.”

  “I’d be happy to take you in your own car,” he offered, glancing at Maggie as if to ask permission. She smiled and nodded.

  “Oh, would you, please?” Suddenly, she frowned. “But what about your vehicle?”

  Maggie piped up. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t put you both to that much trouble and ruin your evening.”

  “You won’t,” Maggie assured her. “And it’s no trouble at all.”

  So Maggie found herself behind the wheel of Joe’s pickup while he drove Mrs. Patterson to the hospital. As soon as she was situated in the waiting room to hear from Dr. Mike about her husband, Joe ushered Maggie back outside.

  “You certainly know how to show a girl a good time,” Maggie teased.

  He laughed. “I guess.”

  “On our next date, though, let’s not rustle up any business for the department. I don’t think the guys appreciate it,” she said wryly.

  “Then you’re willing to go out again?”

  She heard the tentative note in his voice and saw the doubt in his eyes. He may be confident in an emergency, but when it came to personal relationships, he carried enough insecurity to sink a ship. “Of course I’m willing,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “No reason. I just…No reason.”

  She glanced at him as he pulled out of the hospital parking lot. “You did something very nice for Mrs Patterson.”

  He shrugged. “It wasn’t anything you wouldn’t have done.”

  “Don’t be so modest, Joe. A lot of guys wouldn’t have given her a second thought.” Certain her praise would make him uncomfortable, she added, “Especially guys on a date with someone as hot and as exciting as I am.”

  He laughed. “You’re right. We’ll have to go out again because we didn’t finish this one.”

  “Not
finish?” she said. “I thought we did.”

  “I don’t normally wrap up my evening with a lady at the hospital,” he said. “I’m asking for a do-over.”

  The idea of a second date raised her already high spirits. “You’re on.”

  The days until Breanna’s birthday flew past as Maggie threw herself into the preparations. While there weren’t many because Joe had decreed she keep the event small, choosing the perfect cake for a one-year-old took time. Selecting the right presents took even longer.

  For the most part she was able to avoid dwelling on how she’d done this before—twice, in fact—for two little boys who now only touched her life a couple of times a year by telephone. There were occasions, however, when she couldn’t ignore the nasty thought that she was setting herself up for another painful experience, but she told herself the wide-eyed wonderment on Breanna’s face was worth the risk.

  “Do you need any help?” Joe walked into the kitchen where Trista and Maggie were organizing the light supper she had prepared for their small gathering which also included Maggie’s brother and his family.

  Maggie smiled at him. “Everything’s under control. We’ll be able to eat in about fifteen minutes.”

  “That long?”

  She watched as he grabbed a piece of Cheddar cheese and a cracker, then popped both into his mouth. “You’ll spoil your dinner.”

  “Not a chance.”

  As he reached for another, she rapped his knuckles with a plastic spoon. “Be patient.”

  “Why are you the food police?” he asked without rancor. “My house, my rules.”

  “The cook has final say,” she told him. “However, I might be tempted to let you have a few more crackers if you tell me what you bought Breanna.”

  “And ruin the surprise? Not a chance.”

  “I showed you my gift,” she reminded him.

  “And that was thoughtful of you, but you’ll find out what’s in my box when everyone else does.”

  “Spoilsport,” she teased, then waved him away with her hands. “Go on. We’ll call when it’s safe to come in.”

  With a saucy wink, he stole another cracker before she could stop him, then left.

  “I assume he shopped on his own?” Trista asked.

  “He did,” Maggie assured her. “And he wrapped his gift before I could see it. The box is huge and it’s killing me not knowing what’s inside.”

  “Maybe he thinks you won’t approve. Or maybe he gets as much fun out of surprising you as he does Breanna.”

  Food for thought but, whatever his reasons, she only had a few more hours to wait.

  “So how are things going with the three of you?” Trista asked as she stirred the crockpot of creamed corn while Maggie checked the chicken casserole in the oven.

  “Breanna has been doing so much better now that she has her silk lovey. She goes to sleep at night without any fuss at all. Joe is settling into his new role as a father.” She grinned. “He’s finally learning that he doesn’t have to watch every move Breanna makes and that she won’t break. Just the other day I saw him crawling on the floor with her on his back while they played horsey.”

  That had been a sight she’d never expected—seeing Joe with the little girl perched on top of him, the two of them laughing as if they’d invented the game, especially when the horsey bucked and Breanna flew onto the sofa as if she’d been catapulted there.

  Seeing how much Breanna had enjoyed it, Joe had given her rides around the room until the horsey had finally collapsed from exhaustion.

  Maggie smiled, remembering. “They’re definitely bonding with each other.”

  “That’s good. Now, what about you?”

  “Oh, Breanna and I are doing great, too. She knows who I am and doesn’t hesitate to ask me for whatever she wants. In fact, if I don’t move fast enough to suit her, she’ll only wait so long before she’ll go to Joe.” Maggie knew the little girl had grown as comfortable with her as she had with her father, probably because of the routine they’d established. Right or wrong, she was an integral part of Breanna’s life and now she hoped those bonds wouldn’t be broken.

  “I knew Breanna would love you. Kids do. The question is, how do you feel about her?”

  It was the same question Maggie’s mother had asked when she’d phoned earlier in the day and Maggie gave the same reply. “I feel like she’s my own, which won’t come as any surprise to you, I’m sure.”

  “Oh, Maggie.” Trista’s dismay showed on her face and in her tone.

  “I know. I shouldn’t have let myself grow so attached but you know me.” Her chuckle was weak. “I’m a glutton for punishment. When I agreed to help Joe, I tried not to get emotionally involved, but how could I avoid it? That little girl broke my heart with everything she’s gone through.”

  “What about Joe? Is he going to break your heart, too?”

  Probably. Maybe. She hoped not. “No, he won’t.” She peeked in the oven again, hoping Trista would attribute her blush to the heat.

  “You’re falling for him, aren’t you?”

  She wanted to deny it, but Trista wouldn’t accept an outright denial, especially when they both knew it wasn’t true. On the other hand, she wasn’t ready to admit her feelings either, so she chose to remain somewhat vague. “He’s a good guy.”

  “A good guy,” Trista repeated. “And you like him.”

  “What’s not to like? He’s kind and considerate, bossy at times, over-protective at others, but he means well and he’s trying so hard to be what Breanna needs.”

  “Is this the same fellow you complained about for putting rules ahead of people?”

  “Aliens abducted him and left Joe in his place,” she promptly replied.

  Trista laughed. “If you say so. Seriously, though, what are you going to do if and when the bubble breaks? You’ll be devastated.”

  “Don’t remind me. I’m hoping and praying he’ll realize he can’t let either of us go, regardless of what those blasted test results are.” She didn’t want to think about enduring the same agony and heartbreak she had when Arthur had packed up Zach and Tyler and headed west, leaving her behind with nothing but a few photos, her memories and her job to sustain her.

  “For your sake, I hope so, too.”

  Joe strolled in with Breanna perched in the crook of his arm, effectively ending the chat that had dampened Maggie’s mood. “OK, little Bee. Tell Maggie what you told me,” he said to the little girl.

  Trista raised an eyebrow. “Little Bee?”

  Maggie shrugged. “It fits. She’s as busy as a bee these days.” And she had been. She’d begun exploring her new home with the intensity of Lewis and Clark on their expedition in the Louisiana Purchase. She’d inspected every cupboard she could open and played with every pot she could find. Bathroom towels, however, were her favorite. The floor had become her playground.

  In desperation, Joe had tied doorhandles shut, but she’d let her unhappiness be known. So they’d given in, removed everything that was potentially hazardous to her health, and let her investigate to her heart’s content.

  “Breanna wants to eat,” Joe insisted solemnly.

  Maggie kissed the child’s cheek. “OK, sweet one. We’ll eat.”

  With creative maneuvering and a leaf added to the table, Maggie served dinner in the kitchen. And when she brought out the cake covered in Winnie the Pooh characters and sporting one brightly burning candle, the wide-eyed excitement in Breanna’s eyes was more than enough compensation for the emotional risk she was taking.

  While Breanna sat on Joe’s lap, Maggie’s niece Katie and nephew Sam tried to teach her how to blow out her candle. After relighting it several times, Breanna gave a little puff and the tiny flame blinked out. Surprised and embarrassed by everyone’s cheer, she dug her face in Joe’s chest for a few seconds before turning around with an expectant grin to see what came next.

  After cake and ice cream, everyone trooped into the living room where a stack of colorfully w
rapped packages awaited. Breanna eyed the pile with curiosity and when Joe sat on the floor next to the gifts, Breanna dove into his lap. “Dada!” she yelled.

  Maggie didn’t know who was more surprised, Joe or herself, but the look on his face at hearing her call him Daddy for the first time was priceless. Shock, surprise, a touch of fear spread across his face as if he felt completely unworthy of the moniker. Then, as if he’d accepted it as his due, he hugged her and kissed her temple.

  Maggie had never seen him kiss Breanna before. She’d never seen him hug her so naturally, so completely without reservations.

  In that instant she fell in love. Oh, the idea had been percolating for some time, but this was the first moment she admitted the depth of her feelings for this man who’d placed Breanna’s needs above his own fears. That she was only opening herself up for even more heartache was a possibility to consider later. She only knew what she felt now.

  “Let’s open presents, half-pint,” he said, pulling the nearest package into her reach. “Like this.” He ran a finger underneath a seam and tore the paper just enough for her small fingers to grab an edge. Minutes later, she was more interested in tearing off the gift wrap than she was with what it had hidden.

  After making short work of her gifts and creating a nice pile of crumpled paper, she’d unveiled everything from new clothes to a doll and tub toys. However, Joe’s kitchen set, complete with plastic pots, pans and enough dishes to host a tea party for four, outshone the rest.

  “You picked this out yourself?” Maggie asked, hardly able to believe he had.

  “Yeah. Breanna and I spent an entire afternoon in Target’s toy department. The age on the box said one to five, so I bought it.”

  “But why didn’t you tell me? This is a wonderful gift. In fact, I’m jealous I didn’t think of something this grand.”

  A sheepish grin spread across his face. “I thought you might take offense at how stereotypical it was.”

  “Why would you assume that?”

  His entire facial expression registered his disbelief. “You’re a woman who’s broken barriers and works in a predominantly male field. Why wouldn’t I be afraid you’d accuse me of stereotyping?”