Sweet Surprise

by Candis Terry

  And he had to admit he’d never seen a plain blue hospital gown look so damned good.

  “Mind if I come in?” The simple inquiry gave him one last opportunity to back out of exhibiting his total lack of intellect. That was if she said no. Which was a mighty big if, and seriously contemptible that he’d even put that kind of responsibility on her.

  Be a man, asshole. Walk away.

  “After rescuing me from life as a sardine?” She lifted the hand he’d held just a few hours ago and waved him in. “Please do.”

  Of course, his feet didn’t have any better sense than his head, and they, like every other reckless bone in his body, headed straight to her bedside.

  “The station sent me to make sure you were doing okay. These are from all the guys.” He handed her the bouquet of bright pink, blue, and yellow daisies.

  A gift of roses could have been taken the wrong way, so he’d gone for something that conveyed a simple get-well wish. Or friendship. At least he hoped that’s what they communicated. Then again, he shouldn’t be communicating anything.

  Jesus. What had he gotten himself into?

  Especially since friendship was really the last thing on his mind.

  Nope, the engaging smile that curved her luscious lips, those fairy-tale-princess eyes, and her tall, curvaceous body kicked his caveman instincts into high gear. And he wanted nothing more than to carry her off to his cave.

  “Please tell them thank you for me.” She gently touched the petals with her long, delicate fingers. “I see you’ve got Bubba too.”

  “Bubba?”

  “Izzy’s bear.”

  “Oh.” He looked down at the stuffed animal that seemed to look up at him with a knowing grin before he handed it over. “Right. I didn’t want it to get left behind. I was afraid with the way it was carefully strapped in the seat, it might be Isabella’s favorite.”

  “You just missed her.” She tucked the fuzzy little bear by her side. “She just left with Jackson and Jana a few minutes before you came in.”

  “Sorry about that. My shift just ended.” This much, at least, was true.

  “Although it might be a good thing you missed Jana.” She gave him a little smile. “Don’t you still owe her from bidding on you at the Bachelor Auction?”

  “I’ve been trying to pay off that debt for a while now.” He ran a hand through his hair, wondering why he was so damned nervous.

  Why?

  Oh yeah.

  Because he was totally there under false pretenses.

  “She keeps telling me she’s waiting until she finds just the perfect job for me,” he said.

  “Sounds ominous.”

  “I don’t mind her making me break a sweat. I’m just hoping it doesn’t have anything to do with castrating calves. I’ve heard some gruesome stories from Jackson and his brothers.”

  “That’s when it pays to be a city girl. No one thinks you can stomach it. Although . . .” Her gaze traveled up and down his body and the air in the room became instantly warmer. “I don’t think anyone could mistake you for a girl.”

  “My mother would be sorely disappointed if they did since I’m her only son.”

  She chuckled, then settled a little deeper into the bedding. He glanced away so his mind didn’t wander to forbidden places, like what it would be like to share her pillow.

  Or her bed.

  The grimace that shadowed her face when she shifted shoved a big wad of guilt right down his throat for thinking such things when she was in such bad shape.

  “Do you have a big family?” she asked, a little breathless.

  “I grew up with five sisters.” Although sadly, only four now remained. “But enough about me. How do you feel?”

  “With my fingers.” She wiggled those on her right hand and the tubing for the IV rattled.

  He laughed, amazed that as banged up as she was from the accident, she could still make jokes.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said. “Thanks to you.”

  “All in a day’s work,” he managed, trying to sound like she hadn’t scared the shit out of him when she’d kept passing out. Or when they hadn’t been able to get her foot out from where it was wedged beneath the brake without causing more damage. Or a myriad of other things that’d had him barking out “hurry up” orders to the crew.

  She took a deep breath, flinched, and gave him a slow blink that twisted his stomach. Here she was, in pain. And here he was, gawking at her as though he wanted to massage every sore muscle in her body for personal pleasure.

  What a jackass.

  “Ribs hurt?”

  She nodded. “Among other things.”

  In a brief moment of quiet, the tap-tap-tap of high heels echoed through the hallway and stopped at Fiona’s door.

  “Have no fear, Foofalina is here!”

  Mike turned and found an attractive, chestnut-haired Hispanic woman standing in the doorway with her arms opened wide as if she were taking a bow on Broadway. Her painted-on jeans and clingy top pegged her as the usual type of woman he’d be interested in chatting up and losing a few hours with behind closed blinds. But from the moment he’d spotted Fiona at the charity auction, his attention hadn’t wandered any further.

  His problem. Not hers.

  When the new arrival’s eyes darted from Fiona to him, her lips curled up in a smile. “Well hello, tall, dark, and gorgeous. Who are you?”

  “Sabrina, this is Mike Halsey,” Fiona motioned toward him. “The firefighter who rescued me today.”

  “So this is your knight in shining armor?” She nodded as if she approved.

  “Just doing my job, ma’am.”

  “And is it your job to visit your damsel in distress afterward?”

  Shit.

  Mike recognized her smile. It was the same one women all over the world wore when they knew they had your number.

  “Izzy’s bear was in the front seat of my car,” Fiona clarified. “Mike was kind enough to deliver it along with flowers from the guys at the fire station. Wasn’t that nice of him?”

  “Very nice.”

  Yep. She definitely blew through his smoke screen.

  “Foofalina? Interesting last name,” he said to Sabrina with hopes of throwing a detour in the path of her painfully astute mind.

  “It’s actually Sanchez.” She chuckled. “Izzy tagged me with the nickname when she started to learn to talk, and it sort of stuck. You know . . . Foofalina rhymes with Sabrina. Kind of like the name game only without the bananafanafofana’s.”

  “Cute.”

  “Yes.” Sabrina winked. “You are.”

  Fascination lifted Sabrina’s brows, and Mike knew it was time to hit the road before she got any more wild or accurate ideas.

  He shifted his focus back to Fiona. “The captain wanted you to know we took all the boxes that were in your car to the station. They can stay there until you’re able to pick them up.”

  “Thank you. I really appreciate that. I worried that they might have gone to the junk pile, along with my car.”

  “No worries. Just looking out for you. We’re all family at the station. Since you’re related to Jackson, you’re included.” Before he got in any deeper or made a bigger ass of himself, he muttered, “Hope you’re back on your feet soon.”

  Before he headed toward the door, Fiona gave him a smile that made him wish really bad he wasn’t such a fucked-up mess in the head and heart so he could pursue an amazing woman like her.

  But he was.

  And he couldn’t.

  After a few awkward moments with her best friend hitting on her rescuer, Mike excused himself and left. Once he cleared the room, Fiona could finally breathe.

  The second she’d looked up to see him standing there, her heart had gone into overdrive, and she’d had the most ridiculous thoughts. Like, did she still have on makeup? Was her hair zombie-matted to her head? And how horrible did she really look in the atrocious tush-revealing hospital gown?

  Even with her leg ele
vated and a gash in her forehead, when a woman found a man attractive, she wanted to look her best.

  Fiona had no doubt she looked like roadkill.

  “Oh. My. God.” Sabrina’s brown eyes widened. “Did you see that man?”

  As friendships went, theirs was yin and yang. Sabrina never failed to speak her mind or openly display her emotions. Fiona, on the other hand, had left her over-the-top outbursts behind with her party-girl days.

  “What a gorgeous face.” Sabrina cupped her cheeks in wonderment. “Ai-yi-yi. Such dark, mystical eyes. Those full lips. And good Lord, that body. Mmmm Mmmm Mmmm. Él está muy caliente.”

  Fiona couldn’t agree more, but she didn’t necessarily like the twinge in her stomach that felt a little bit like jealousy. No doubt Mike was calendar-boy worthy. And though she’d never had the pleasure of seeing him without a shirt, there was no denying the bulk of muscle that expanded the chest or the sleeves of his firefighter uniform. Any woman in her right mind would stare.

  So why did it bother her so much that Sabrina had done just that?

  Time to detour.

  “Hey.” Fiona scrunched up her face. “I thought you came here to see me. And, by the way, how did you even know I was here?”

  “Hey, don’t feel slighted if my imagination is busy conjuring up a 911 call.”

  Fiona exaggerated a pout and threw her hands up, which was only slightly hampered by the IV stuck in her hand.

  “Of course I came to see you, silly goose. And if you must know, Jackson called me. I actually came to spring you from this joint, but it doesn’t look like you’re going anywhere today with that.” She pointed at Fiona’s ankle. “Or that.”

  The face she made while pointing at Fiona’s stitched-up forehead was comical. Leave it to Sabrina to provide the funny. Which immediately turned to concern.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  Fiona nodded. “They say I can go home tomorrow.”

  “And where exactly is home, chica? The old apartment or the new place? Because last I talked to you, everything was in midmove.”

  “It still is.” Fiona gently pushed out a sigh. “As you heard Mike say, the rest of my boxes are at the fire station. I got the furniture and the majority of the boxes moved. But nothing is in place or unpacked. Right now, the new house either looks like a storage unit or a hoarder’s paradise. I literally have no idea where a clean pair of underwear might be hidden.”

  “So why don’t you get those good-looking Wilder brothers to come help you move stuff around and unpack? I’ll volunteer to help.”

  At the wiggle of Sabrina’s brows, Fiona laughed. “I’m sure you would. But I don’t like depending on them. They all have their own lives, and they’re busy. Reno has the hardware store. Jesse has his veterinary clinic. And Jackson and Abby are moving into their new home and getting ready for their wedding.”

  “But you know they all love you. And you know they’d help you in a blink if you just ask.”

  “I know they would. But . . . I really want to do this on my own.”

  “You’re still trying to prove yourself, aren’t you?”

  Fiona shrugged and flinched with the painful twinge in her neck muscles. Ow. Looked like she had whiplash along with everything else.

  “Chica . . . let the past go.” Sabrina’s serious tone matched the narrowing of her dark eyes. “You’ve come so far. You should be bragging about your accomplishments instead of letting the past shame you.”

  “That’s not my style.”

  “No? ¡Ridículo! Do you even know what your style is anymore?” When Sabrina got fired up, her Spanish accent came heavily into play, and it became a game of “What did she say?”

  There’d been times when they’d been roommates the summer they’d both attended a three-month pastry course at Bellouet Conseil in Paris that Sabrina’s accent turned into a full-blown Latin tizzy. One that continuously baffled their very proper, very composed, and very Parisian professeurs.

  The school tuition had been a college graduation present from Fiona’s grandmother, who’d scrimped and saved to afford such a lavish gift. To this day, the love and generosity with which it had been given still melted Fiona’s heart.

  “We all make mistakes,” Sabrina continued.

  “Well, God knows I made plenty.”

  “Consider the circumstances. You were broken, chica. Greater beings have crumbled for less. But look at you now.”

  At Fiona’s frown, her friend laughed.

  “Okay, maybe not right now, with your sexy compression sock and your forehead looking like you crushed a can of Budweiser into it.”

  Sabrina was a full-blown Mexican fireball. And Fiona considered herself lucky to have such a friend. Especially one who’d stuck with her through the thick of her insanity.

  “The hospital should put you in charge of the morale-boosting committee,” Fiona said.

  “Well, when you get in these moods, it’s no joke. Surely, you can see how well you’ve done.” She arched a brow at Fiona’s silence. “Again with the no? Then let me spell it out for you.”

  And she did—popping up a hot pink fingernail with each point she made.

  “You’re an amazing mom. You’re independent. Self-sufficient. You’ve saved enough to start your own business. You’re a rock star BFF. And you’ve opened your heart to the woman your ex-husband is about to marry. What more can you ask of yourself to make up for those bad-judgment years?”

  “I don’t know.” A twinge of undigested guilt reared its ugly head. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

  “Well, stop figuring and live. Enjoy yourself.” Sabrina’s wide mouth broke into a grin. “Grab hold of a man like that hunk who just left here and have a little fun.”

  And there lay the problem.

  Fiona had had enough fun to last her—plus ten other people—a lifetime.

  Somehow, by the grace of God, she’d managed to survive. Now it was time to get serious. And serious did not include hooking up with another fireman.

  No matter how sizzling he might be.

  As he drove past the big iron gates at Wilder Ranch, Mike realized, once again, he was heading into a world completely different from the one in which he’d been raised.

  When his firefighter father died battling a warehouse blaze in downtown Los Angeles, his mother had moved him and his five sisters in with their Avó. Their maternal grandmother had welcomed them with open arms into her little two-bedroom duplex. In the heavily Hispanic neighborhood, however, children from a Brazilian mother and a Caucasian father were viewed as outsiders. Misfits.

  Boyle Heights in East L.A. harbored over twenty gangs, each badder and more dangerous than the next. The welcome mat had only been unrolled by those with illicit goals. Dodging those who sought to bring chaos and harm became a way of life.

  His sister Avianna hadn’t been able to resist the constant pressure to join the “family.” Unaware of the consequences, she’d descended into a world of sex, drugs, and crime at the age of sixteen. When other teenage girls were learning how to put on makeup, having schoolgirl crushes on the Backstreet Boys, and trying on prom gowns, Avianna learned to use a gun, sell drugs, give away her body, and throw away her self-respect.

  Her drug and alcohol abuse spiraled out of control, and her absences from home became more frequent. Which, to Mike’s dismay, seemed like a relief at the time. Her brief moments at home were usually spent throwing a tantrum, stealing from their mother or their Avó, and bad-mouthing anyone who didn’t comprehend that her “friends” were special.

  As the only male in their family after the death of their father, Mike had tried to fill his boots. He’d tried to rescue Avianna from those who meant her harm and from those who twisted her thoughts and made her far from the reasonable girl she’d been when they’d first moved to the neighborhood.

  He’d tried, and he’d failed.

  Miserably.

  After months of trying to talk sense into his older sister, to
bring her back into the arms of those who loved her, Mike had been the one who’d held his mother’s hand when they’d been called down to the morgue to identify her body.

  He’d been only fourteen at the time.

  Seeing Avianna lying lifeless on that cold steel table had haunted his every waking moment and given him nightmares that jolted him awake in a pool of sweat and tears.

  Though they’d never caught or prosecuted the person who’d pulled the trigger on his beautiful sister, word on the street had been that she’d pissed off the girlfriend of a B Street gang member. That moment of indiscretion had put her at the wrong end of a 9mm bullet.

  Between the day of her funeral and the day he’d enlisted in the Army, his life had gone down a comparatively destructive path. He’d been all of eighteen when he’d decided he needed to change the way he lived. So he married his high-school girlfriend, then poured his heart into learning to be a good soldier.

  After several deployments to the Middle East, he remained stationed in Texas until he decided that his path in life had become murky again, and he needed a drastic change. He left the military, got a divorce, and followed in his father’s boots.

  Becoming a firefighter, a first responder, a rescuer, had saved his life. But all the training in the world would never bring back his father, his sister, or his marriage. And it would never clear his conscience of the mistakes of his past.

  As he parked his Durango near the huge Wilder barn, he scanned the area, wishing he’d had the kind of upbringing the Wilder brothers had been privileged to enjoy. He didn’t begrudge a single one of them. Quite the opposite. He admired the men they were. Hardworking. Respectful. Loyal. Heroic. He aspired to be a man just like that.

  But he had a long way to go.

  From the veranda, Jana Wilder, the woman who’d raised those boys to be such good men, waved a welcome. Her customary big blond hairdo, jeans, and Western boots verified she was one hundred percent Texan. Her big smile confirmed she was a warm woman with a big heart.

  On his way to meet her, he received a head butt in the back pocket of his Levi’s by a goat wearing a blue satin ribbon around its neck.