Sweet Surprise

by Candis Terry

  Guy code stipulated you never went after a buddy’s girlfriend, wife, or ex-wife.

  Never.

  Not even if there was dissension.

  In Jackson and his former wife’s case, they were not only friendly, they were as sympatico as bees and honey. Which was only one of the million reasons Mike had to keep his distance.

  Still, there was no denying that the woman intrigued the hell out of him in every way possible. A not-so-minor little detail that set off all kinds of warning bells. The last woman who’d pushed all his buttons had ended up his wife. And then she became his ex-wife. But unlike Jackson and Fiona, his relationship with Heather was the polar opposite of laid-back.

  While emergency vehicles continued to roll up, and the rain continued to pour down, Mike grabbed the car handle and got the door ajar enough to put his weight behind it and force it open. Wasting no more time he leaned in and laid two fingers on the soft skin over Fiona’s carotid artery. Relief slipped from his lungs when he found her pulse beating weak but steady.

  “Hey, Hooch.” From beside the truck, Scott Smiley, nozzleman for engine 11, called out Mike’s nickname. “Do we need Bruce?”

  Though the comical reference to the moniker the guys at the station had given the Jaws of Life, nothing about any situation in which the tool was needed was funny.

  Mike glanced over the headrest to the wall of boxes. When he’d danced with Fiona at Reno Wilder’s wedding, she mentioned she’d be moving to Sweet. Apparently that had been today’s mission. His mission during that dance had been to keep his cool and keep it classy. Which wasn’t easy when she’d looked up at him with those big blue eyes and lifted that luscious mouth into a smile.

  “Not sure yet,” he told Scott, unable to take his eyes off Fiona. “Grab Martinez to help stabilize the car. Then get these boxes out of the way. Let’s see if that will free things up.” He could have moved them himself, but no way would he let go of her. Not until the EMTs were on scene and administering aid.

  Within seconds, Captain John Steele stood beside him, assessing the situation much as Mike had just done seconds ago.

  “We’ve got a triple-shot pileup,” Cap said. “Driver of the van looks bad, and the passenger in the SUV has obvious head trauma. What’s the status here?”

  “Pretty sure one of the boxes hit her in the head. Possible concussion, possible internal bleeding, and . . .” Mike leaned down and peered through the darkness below the steering wheel. “Her legs are pinned. I see blood. So possible leg and spinal injuries.”

  “Damn.” Captain looked up as more sirens rolled onto the scene. “Medical’s here now.”

  While the rest of the team moved into action, Mike looked up at his commander. “Cap?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Best put a call in to Jackson.”

  “Why?” The captain pushed his helmet up, and sharp gray eyes cut through the sleet. “He’s taking a few extra days off to finish building his house.”

  “Because this”—Mike’s gaze floated back to the beautiful woman whose hand he held—“is Fiona, his ex-wife.”

  “What?” Cap bent down, peered into the car, and bit off an expletive. “I’m on it.” He pulled a cell phone from his coat pocket, turned, and walked away.

  “Wheels are locked,” Smiley shouted from where he was positioned near the right rear tire.

  Minutes later, Eric Martinez popped out of the back with the last carton in his hands. “Boxes are cleared.”

  Stabilized, the little Ford had less of a chance to shift or roll, which could put Fiona at a bigger risk. Mike puffed out an anxious breath. He reached down by her legs and lifted the manual lever to ease the seat back and hopefully dislodge her from the precarious position. When the seat wouldn’t budge, he cursed under his breath.

  Fiona’s long, dark lashes fluttered, and her eyes slowly opened. The flashing red lights reflected in her deep blue irises, but she clearly didn’t recognize him. When he expected panic, she surprised him with a lazy smile.

  “Are you my knight in shining armor?”

  Her words were sluggish, and he forced a smile past his distress. He didn’t know what it was about her that drew him in with such intensity. He only knew that no matter how captivated he might be, there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.

  He’d failed too many times to ever be considered anyone’s hero.

  But damned if he didn’t want to be hers.

  From behind a wall of murky awareness, Fiona tried to identify the sounds that pushed past the ringing in her ears. Rhythmic beeps. Low murmurs. And an occasional whine. One sound of alarm in particular pushed her through the fog and forced her eyes open.

  “Mommy?”

  At the pitiful whimper, Fiona blinked. Sluggishly, her surroundings came into focus. Sanitary white walls. Obnoxious machines. Curtain divider. All evidence she could only be in one place. The hospital.

  Yikes.

  On one side of the bedrails stood Jackson’s mom, Jana, who held her hand with a worried frown. Fiona gave her a brief smile before she shifted her gaze to the other side, where Jackson held Izzy in his arms. The fear etched in her daughter’s little forehead and the tears clinging to the lashes of her big blue eyes crumpled Fiona’s heart.

  “Mommy?”

  “Come here, baby.” Fiona held out her arms, not caring that her body ached like she’d been hit by a bullet train. Or that an IV and plastic tubing were stuck in her vein. Or that her head pounded like stomping feet at a Rangers’ playoff game. Or that for whatever reason she probably didn’t want to know, her left ankle was freezing.

  “Are you sure?” Concern narrowed the space between Jackson’s eyes.

  Was she sure?

  If her head wouldn’t split in two, she’d laugh.

  Nothing mattered more at that moment than holding her daughter in her arms. Earlier, Fiona had been angry about the stupidity of the preventable accident. Now she was just thankful she’d survived.

  She nodded, and Jackson eased their daughter onto the bed beside her. Fiona kissed the top of Izzy’s blond curls, breathed in her sweet little-girl scent, and let the familiarity calm her soul.

  “Hey there, sugarplum.” Jana gently smoothed her fingers over the top of Fiona’s hair. “How do you feel?”

  “A little woozy. Kind of nauseous. Very happy to be out of the sardine can.” She slid her gaze to Jackson, not only for his professional opinion because of his EMT background but because together as friends they shared a level of trust others found hard to achieve. “What’s the damage?”

  “To the car?” His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It’s headed for the junkyard. To you? Let’s just say you’ve got a hard head, so the concussion isn’t too bad. The stitches in your forehead look reasonably fashionable. And I figure you can tattoo over the scar on your leg later on.”

  “Is it really that bad?”

  “Are you kidding? Compared to what it could have been?”

  “So you’re saying I’m lucky?”

  “Yeah, honey.” He gave her a solemn nod. “You were lucky.”

  She managed a smile for Izzy’s benefit.

  “Your doctor will be in here shortly to explain everything,” he said. “But for now, I’ll tell you that you’ve got a compression bandage on the ankle and a hefty pack of ice over it. So no high heels for a while.”

  “You gave us a good scare.” Jana squeezed her hand.

  “I’m sorry. Two guys were road raging. I tried to get out of their way, but I guess I got caught up in the middle.”

  “We’re just really glad you’re okay.” Jana said. “The police said everyone involved in the crash sustained injuries, but none were life-threatening.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.”

  “And thanks to some really good witnesses, they identified the guy who caused the accident,” Jackson said as he brushed back a stray curl over Izzy’s eyes. “But because you lost consciousness several times, the doctor said they’re going to
keep you here overnight.”

  “I just think I passed out because I was hyperventilating.”

  “Maybe. But let’s play it safe just in case. Okay?” Jackson lifted an eyebrow in his typical end-of-discussion fashion. “And while we’re on the subject of unpleasant things, I need to raise the question about calling your—”

  “No.” She cringed. “Please don’t ask.”

  “Honey, putting the past aside, they’re your parents.” Jackson’s brows now collided. “Don’t you want me to call them about the accident and let them know you’re okay?”

  “No.”

  “You sure?” Jana asked.

  Fiona nodded gently so as not to reignite the hammering behind her eyeballs. Both Jackson and his mother knew the reason she didn’t want to call. And they’d understand. The question came merely as a courtesy. The same kind of courtesy Jackson had extended when they got married and on the day Izzy had been born.

  Fiona loved her parents. Well, she tried to love them. They didn’t make it easy. And then there was that whole betrayal thing they did that propelled her into her not-so-elegant fall from grace. “No need to worry them. I just need a couple of days to get back on my feet.”

  “Okay, but we don’t want you to worry about anything either.” Jackson reached down and took her hand. “I can make a call to your insurance company and health-care provider if you want. I’ll check your house and make sure everything’s secure. And Abby already has Izzy’s bedroom pulled together. So we’ve got that covered.”

  “It’s a beauty too.” Jana gently tweaked Izzy’s cheek. “Isn’t it, sugarplum?”

  Izzy nodded. “But no Unca Weeno castle.”

  “I’ll bet if you ask Uncle Reno nicely, he’ll paint you a castle in our new house,” Jackson assured her.

  Izzy’s eyes grew wide, and Jana laughed. “Sugarplum, you know you’ve got your Uncle Reno and Aunt Charli wrapped around your little pinkie.”

  “They do spoil her.” Fiona stroked her hand down Izzy’s back.

  Jackson chuckled. “Amen to that.”

  “But no more than the two of you.” Fiona smiled, even if it made her head feel like it would split. “Or Abby. Or Martin. Or Jesse and Allison. You get the idea.”

  Jackson and his mother looked at each other and shrugged. Then Jana said, “There are worse things in life than being loved.”

  “Well, I do appreciate it. So thank you.” Fiona looked down into her daughter’s worried eyes. “Yay! You get to hang out with Daddy and Abby for a few days while mommy’s ankle gets better.”

  “Abby said I can go see the doggies at her rescue.”

  Jana chuckled. “She still trying to talk you into getting her a dog?”

  “Every day. Every night. And every moment in between.” Fiona smiled, wondering how, since Abby ran an animal rescue center, Izzy hadn’t snuck one home yet. “I told her as soon as we got moved in, we’d talk about it.”

  “That’s as good as a yes in her mind.” Jackson’s eyes lit up with complete adoration for their little girl.

  A hint of pain crept past the meds, but Fiona recognized the need to let everyone know everything would be hunky-dory, so they’d go home and not worry. Plus she needed some time to figure out how she would manage the rest of the move to Sweet plus set up her cupcake shop on crutches and without transportation.

  “Looks like it’s about dinnertime.” As a cue, Fiona glanced at the clock on the wall. “Maybe you guys should head on home.”

  “Sugarplum, are you trying to get rid of us?”

  “You know better than that,” she told Jana. “Don’t worry, they’ll take good care of me here. And honestly, the less drama the better for you-know-who.” She tilted her pounding head toward Izzy. Too many uncertain elements had dogpiled on a child who’d just turned four to understand why her mommy looked like a punching bag. The less scary talk of injury and such, the better. “If you know what I mean.”

  “Message received.” Jackson held out his arms. “Come here, baby girl. How about we head home and see what trouble Miss Kitty and Liberty have gotten themselves into.”

  When Izzy moved into his arms, Fiona blinked away the ache of the sudden loss.

  Life was as it was meant to be. But sometimes that didn’t make it any easier. Sometimes when Izzy was with Jackson and Fiona had little to do but stare at the four walls, she wished things could have been different. Regret was a powerful medicine that reminded her if she ever found a way to completely trust herself again and start to—gasp—date, it would be a slow and methodical process. No expecting the first guy she dated would be the one. No hanky-panky until she was sure there was something more than long-ignored hormones at play.

  No sex.

  Dang.

  She missed the intimacy. The moments when your body let go a big sigh of satisfaction. When your heart felt safe, even if only for a few minutes.

  She loved sex.

  But there were certain things in life that were far more important.

  “Give mommy a kiss.” Fiona leaned toward her daughter at the risk of the blood vessels in her head popping like balloons. “When you get home, ask Abby if she’ll let Liberty sleep in your room tonight.”

  “You be okay, Mommy?”

  “I’m going to be just fine.”

  The kiss Izzy delivered was a tiny buss on the cheek, then Izzy reached for her grandma.

  Jana swept her into her arms. “You’re sure it’s okay for us to go?”

  Fiona nodded though deep down she really wanted them to stay. Not only for the support and the comfort they gave when she was planted butt first in an unpleasant situation, but the entire incident today had left her drained, confused, and very unsettled. She needed to compose her thoughts and get things figured out in a jiffy.

  Independence had been hard-earned. But once she’d gotten her life together, there’d been no looking back. Lying in a hospital bed without options didn’t settle well. Fingers crossed, time would pass quickly, so she could get up and go home. Even if home was currently a new and strange place stacked with unopened boxes and an empty refrigerator.

  “We’ll be back first thing in the morning to pick you up,” Jackson said.

  “I’d appreciate that.” She touched Jana’s arm. “Could you give us a minute please?”

  “Of course.” She bounced Izzy on her hip. “Come on, sugarplum. Grandma’s going to find you a treat in the gift shop. See you downstairs, son.”

  Once they walked out the door Fiona looked up at her former husband. “Jackson? I honestly appreciate everything you’ve done. Everything you do for me.” Her heart gave a little twist. “But I’m not your responsibility anymore. You have a beautiful fiancée, a new house, and a wedding that needs your focus. Don’t worry about taking care of my business. I’ll make the call to the insurance and health care companies.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll be fine.” She patted his hand. “I promise.”

  He sighed. “I care about you, Fi.”

  “I know you do. The feeling’s mutual. But I’ve got this.” She flashed him a smile. “Now go on and get the heck out of here.”

  “Okay. But I’m here if you need—”

  “I’ll call if I need anything,” she promised with a chuckle.

  Once the room had cleared out, the only sounds that remained were the beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor and the steady march of footsteps moving past her door.

  For several minutes, she lay there contemplating her circumstances. She wondered where her purse was so she could make those calls. But when the pounding in her head became unbearable, and the ache in her bones and muscles became too much, she closed her eyes and tried to let the pain medication do its job.

  A quiet knock dragged her attention to the doorway and the six-foot-plus, gorgeous, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and built like a Roman god of a man standing there.

  Her gaze dropped from his chiseled features to his sculpted body in the blue firefighter’s uniform, the
n to Izzy’s fluffy white teddy bear clasped in his big hand.

  Though her eyes were a bit blurry, she immediately recognized the handsome face as the one from the opposite side of her rain-streaked car window.

  And she knew.

  Mike Halsey was her knight in shining armor.

  Chapter 2

  By the time Mike ended up at the door to Fiona’s hospital room, he’d convinced himself he was only there to do the right thing. The teddy bear in his hands became his pathetic source of validation.

  Somewhere along the path to total denial, he’d persuaded himself that it made sense to return Isabella’s toy. The part of him that spoke with reason said he could have and should have left the toy with the boxes they’d rescued from Fiona’s car and stored at the fire station for safekeeping. The other part of him, the one that had always been hardheaded and determined to blow the roof off absurdity, said he could have easily returned the toy to Isabella when he’d seen her walk out of the hospital holding on to her father’s hand just moments ago.

  But he hadn’t.

  He’d stayed right there in the shadows of his Dodge Durango like some adolescent kid with a crush waiting for his chance to walk the cute girl home from school. The action reeked of pubescent desperation.

  Not his usual MO.

  Hell. Not his MO ever.

  If the stuffed bear didn’t verify that he’d overstepped his boundaries, there was no damned good explanation for the bouquet of flowers in his other hand.

  Calling himself ten kinds of crazy and promising himself a good long stretch on a headshrinker’s couch, he gently knocked on the open hospital-room door.

  Before he could walk away from making a huge fucking mistake, Fiona turned her head in his direction. Instant recognition brightened her blue eyes, and a smile curved her luscious mouth. A slight bruise darkened her forehead where a bandage sealed the stitches underneath. Her left foot was propped up on pillows. An IV ran clear liquid into the top of her left hand. And her silky blond hair was matted with dried blood. Yet somehow she still managed to look heavenly.