by Gina Wilkins
Her older sister, Stacy, finally stopped hovering over Kyle to thank his rescuer. With typical exuberance, she threw her arms around James’s middle, saying, “Thank you so much for saving my son. You’re a true hero.”
Shannon was rather amused by the “hero’s” dumbstruck expression. It was obvious he wasn’t accustomed to being embraced by tearful strangers. Somewhat awkwardly, he patted Stacy’s shoulder, then carefully disentangled himself.
“Anyone would have done the same,” he assured her in a self-conscious mumble. “I just happened to notice the boy was in trouble.”
Her green eyes shining, Stacy shook her red head stubbornly and gazed up at him with an unsteady smile. “You were amazing. The way you just dived in and swam out there to save him… You should be given a medal or something.”
James’s cheeks were rather pink now. He glanced at Shannon as if begging for rescue, himself.
Smiling, she took pity on him, stepping forward to nudge her sister gently back a few inches. “This grateful mother is my sister, Stacy Malone. The twins are her oldest daughters, Briley and Baylee. You’ve met her son Kyle, of course, and the little one is Sammy.”
Stacy reached out to clutch James’s arm again. “I wish my husband, J.P., was here to thank you, too. He’s working today, so he couldn’t join us, but I know he’d want to express his gratitude for what you did for our family.”
James cleared his throat. “Um—”
Pushing his emotional sister aside, Stu stepped up to take her place, extending his right hand to James. “Stu Gambill—Stacy and Shannon’s older brother. It’s nice to meet you, James.”
Looking relieved by Stu’s matter-of-fact tone, James shook his hand. “The pleasure is mine.”
His rather old-fashioned phrasing matched the image Shannon was getting of him. She took pride in forming very accurate first impressions; it was almost a gift, as she’d bragged on more than one occasion. Maybe two or three years older than her own twenty-five years, he seemed very proper and scholarly, despite the muscles nicely defined by his wet T-shirt and swim trunks. Not shy, exactly, but reserved.
His hair was black, his eyes the color of rich, dark chocolate. His features were classically handsome—too masculine to be called “pretty,” but definitely appealing. Not quite her type—even if he was extremely attractive—but he seemed nice, nonetheless.
Did he look just a little familiar? If so, she couldn’t remember why.
Stu motioned to the woman at his side. “This is my wife, Karen. Our kids—Ginny, Jack and Caitlin. We’re what you might call a prolific family,” he added with a chuckle, waving toward the noisy cluster of siblings and cousins.
“Speak for yourself,” Shannon murmured, drawing a glance from James.
“Can we go back in the water now?” Ginny asked, clutching her purple beach ball and edging toward the shoreline. Her cousin’s misadventure was already consigned to a dramatic memory.
Kyle’s teeth had stopped chattering and Shannon was relieved to see his color was almost back to normal. The freckles across his cheeks no longer stood out as dramatically as they had when he’d been pulled from the water, pale and panic-stricken. She wouldn’t forget that look for a while, she thought with a hard swallow.
“I want to swim, too,” Kyle insisted, squirming out of the towel his mother had wrapped so tightly around him he could hardly move. Shannon suspected he wanted to prove to everyone that his near-drowning hadn’t made him afraid to go back in the water. Kyle’s innate recklessness was the bane of his harried mother’s existence.
“No more swimming right now,” Stu proclaimed. “It’s almost time to eat,” he added, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the chorus of protests. “I bet Grandpa and Uncle Lou have already got the coals heating back at the picnic area.”
“And don’t forget we’re having homemade ice cream for dessert,” Karen reminded them.
That was enough to divert the kids’ attention from water sports. They snatched up towels, toys and shoes in preparation to return to the picnic area.
“Are you by yourself today?” Shannon asked James.
He nodded. “Rare day off. It seemed like a good time to swim and read.”
Exactly as she’d surmised, she thought smugly. “My family’s having a cookout. We always have enough food for at least a dozen extra people. We would love to have you join us for burgers and ice cream.”
He looked startled again by the impulsive invitation, but Stacy jumped on the suggestion immediately. “Oh, yes, please do, James. Our parents would love to meet you.”
“Oh, but I—”
“Our family’s a little crazy, but a fun bunch,” Stu chimed in. “If you don’t mind sharing burgers with a few bees and a gang of rug rats, you’d be welcome.”
“No bees,” eight-year-old Ginny announced confidently. “Grandpa brought Cinderella candles.”
“Citronella,” Karen corrected her daughter with a smothered smile.
“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” James said.
Studying his face, Shannon thought he looked tempted by the invitation, even though he seemed to feel obliged to demur. That was all the impetus she needed to smile up at him and urge, “It wouldn’t be an intrusion at all. Our family loves making new friends. And after what you’ve done for us, we consider you a friend already.”
He pushed a hand through his wet, black hair, his dark eyes steady on her face. “Then I would be pleased to accept. On one condition. You have to stop thanking me. I was happy to be of assistance, but any of you would have done the same thing if you’d seen a boy in trouble.”
She laughed. “Well, you’ll probably have to endure my parents’ expressions of gratitude when they hear the story, but after that I promise we’ll drop the hero treatment, if you like.”
“I’d like,” he agreed with a faint smile.
She stuck out her hand. “Deal.”
His eyes glinting with amusement, he shook her hand again. Once again, she was aware of an odd tingling when they made skin-to-skin contact. She’d thought that was only an anomaly the first time. No surprise, really, she assured herself. After all, the guy was good-looking. And his long-lashed eyes were striking enough to make a healthy young woman’s heart flutter a little.
She was a healthy young woman.
His fingers tightened for only a moment around hers—as if she weren’t the only one aware of a spark between them—but then he released her and stepped back, his expression politely neutral again. “I’ll get my things.”
The others went ahead toward the picnic area, the three adults shepherding the seven children up the asphalt road, a task Shannon silently compared to herding cats. Slipping her feet into her sandals, she drew a loose, thin, white cover-up over her bikini. The sleeveless, thigh-length garment clung a bit to her damp suit, but it was cool, comfortable and modest enough to satisfy her mother and aunt.
She towel-dried her collar-length curls while James donned his sandals, draped a towel around the neck of his wet T-shirt and folded his chair. He tucked the chair beneath one arm, then picked up the small cooler and thick book that had been sitting beside it.
“I’ll drop these things off at my car,” he said. “It’s parked at the edge of the day area. I have some dry clothing in the car. I’d like to change before eating.”
“Of course. The changing rooms aren’t far from the tables we’ve claimed.” Imitating him, she looped her towel around her neck to free her hands. “Can I help you carry something?”
“That’s not necessary. I’ve—”
But she had already relieved him of the heavy hardcover tome as she fell into step beside him toward the parking lot. She discovered in surprise that it was a medical reference book. “Textbook of Infectious Diseases?” she asked in surprise. “Holy kamoley. You consider this beach reading?”
Amused by her wording, he shrugged. “It’s the only thing I have time to read at the moment.”
“You’re a doctor?”
�
�Medical student,” he corrected her. “Just started my fourth year.”
“Oh.” She wouldn’t have been surprised had he said he was a doctor, because she’d pegged him as a professional man from the start, but she hadn’t expected him to still be in school. “Is medical school as tough as everyone says?”
“It’s challenging,” he said neutrally.
She would be willing to bet he was at the top of his class, and that the material came more easily to him than to others. He had an air of quiet competence that made her think he didn’t often fail at anything he attempted. She’d bet he was the single-minded, long-term-planning, never-give-up type, too.
She watched as he placed his folding chair into the back-seat of a sleek, expensive hybrid car and drew out a small, designer-label duffel bag. Money, she decided immediately. A social conscience, but no worries about paying his bills. Privileged background—private schools? Lifelong country-club membership? Social-register girlfriends?
Okay, maybe she was getting a little carried away with her predilection for making sweeping assumptions based on early impressions, she decided, reining in her imaginings. Her family had warned her she was going to be disappointed or even hurt someday when one of her first impressions turned out to be way off the mark. But because she believed at least most of her guesses about James were close to reality that meant they couldn’t be less suited. She kept her smile friendly rather than flirty when she handed him his textbook and told him she would meet him at the picnic area after he’d changed into his dry clothes.
James needn’t have worried about finding Shannon’s family after he changed into a green polo shirt and khaki cargo shorts. He spotted the clan as soon as he walked into the day-use area of the surrounding wooded campgrounds. They had claimed two picnic tables and a charcoal grill, from which smoke was streaming.
It was immediately obvious that he was expected. As soon as he appeared, a woman who looked like an older, blonde version of Shannon and Stacy dashed forward to greet him, holding out both hands in welcome. She caught his hands in hers, squeezing as though she would really prefer to be hugging him, the way Stacy had earlier. “Thank you so much for saving my grandson. Our family owes you such a huge debt of gratitude.”
He’d braced himself for this, but it didn’t make it any easier. He wasn’t at all comfortable being treated like a hero just for doing what anyone else would have done under the circumstances. For that matter, one of the other adults would probably have seen Kyle’s predicament only a moment or two after James had. He was just glad he’d been able to help.
“Okay, Mom, you’ve embarrassed James enough,” Shannon said, fondly nudging her mother back a few inches. “Let Dad thank him and then we’re going to cut the man some slack and let him eat a burger in peace.”
A man with a ring of hair that might once have been red circling a glossy bald head stepped forward to offer a hand to James. “Hollis Gambill. Consider yourself thanked again.”
The man’s calm, but sincere tone reminded James of Stu. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Call me Hollis. You answer to James or Jim?”
“Either, but I generally prefer James.”
Hollis nodded, apparently making a mental note of the preference as he motioned toward the people crowding around him. “This is my wife, Virginia. And my brother, Lou, and his wife, Lois.”
Hands were shaken all around and then James was towed toward the picnic tables, where the adults he’d met at the swimming area were all either cooking, setting out supplies for dinner, or supervising the seven children making noisy use of the nearby playground equipment. Stacy was one of the supervisors and she barely took her eyes off Kyle. James suspected that young man’s adventures were going to be closely monitored for the foreseeable future.
He offered his assistance with the dinner preparations, but was assured everything was under control. “Shannon, get your guest something cold to drink,” her mother ordered. “The food will be ready in just a minute.”
“Our guest, Mom,” Shannon corrected in a murmur. “What would you like, James? We have beer, bottled water, diet cola, fruit juices….”
He interrupted with a chuckle. “Bottled water will be fine. Thanks.”
She handed him a plastic bottle with a teasing, “Here you go, Doc.”
“Doc?” Her aunt Lois set down a stack of paper plates and studied James from the other side of the concrete picnic table where he’d been urged to have a seat. “You’re a doctor?”
“A medical student,” he corrected. “Fourth year.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Can you write me a prescription for those little yellow pills that perk me up when I’m feeling peckish? My doctor at home is being a real fuddy-duddy and he won’t let me have any more, but I told him I don’t overuse them. I just like to have them around when I need them.”
Though he’d been warned it could happen, it was the first time he’d actually been hit up for a prescription. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mrs. Gambill. As a medical student, I’m not allowed to write prescriptions.”
“Honestly, Lois,” Shannon’s mother scolded her sister-in-law. “This nice young man is going to think you’re a druggy. Don’t go pestering him for pills.”
“But I—”
“I’m sorry if Lois put you on the spot,” Virginia continued to James, ignoring Lois’s protests. “She isn’t really a drug addict.”
He struggled against a smile. “I didn’t think so.”
Virginia turned then to her daughter-in-law. “Karen, you should have the doctor look at that rash on Caitlin’s back and tummy. Maybe he’d know what’s causing it.”
“I’m not a doctor yet,” he reiterated. “I’m a medical student.”
“Bet you’ve seen a few rashes, though, haven’t you?”
“Well, I—”
“Caitlin. Come see Grammy, sweetie.”
“But I—”
“We did warn you the family’s crazy,” Shannon murmured, standing close behind him and not even bothering to hide a wry grin.
Because he wasn’t sure what to say in response to that, he didn’t even try. Little Caitlin, the five-year-old with hair that glowed almost neon orange, dutifully lifted her shirt upon her grandmother’s instructions, baring her tummy to James’s reluctant eyes. A blotchy pink rash splashed her skin, extending to her back when she turned around. James was relieved when they merely told him it was also on her bottom, rather than stripping her down to prove it.
“It doesn’t really look like heat rash to me,” Shannon’s mother fretted. “And it’s definitely not measles or chicken pox, because she’s had her vaccinations. I know what they look like, anyway. What do you think?”
“Probably not heat rash,” James agreed, trying to recall his days in the outpatient peds clinic. “It looks like contact dermatitis to me. Have you changed laundry detergents lately?”
“No,” Karen replied, straightening her daughter’s clothes. “I’ve used the same one since she was born.”
“I noticed the rash is only where her clothing touches,” he explained.
Everyone looked at the child, nodding to agree with his comment.
“Actually, Stu’s been doing the laundry this week,” Karen said thoughtfully, looking toward her husband. “I’ve been busy with other things. Stu?”
Turning from the smoking grill, her husband asked, “You need something, honey?”
“You’ve been using the regular laundry detergent this week, haven’t you?”
“Sure. Same kind we’ve always used,” he replied.
Virginia sighed in disappointment that their guest had been proven wrong.
“It was only a guess,” James said with a slight shrug. “I’m afraid I don’t know what’s causing the—”
“I did change fabric softeners, though,” Stu called out. “We ran out and another brand was on sale. Smelled good, so I thought I’d try it.”
Virginia beamed at James. “Wel
l, there you go. She’s allergic to the fabric softener.”
“A sensitivity to it, perhaps. Probably not a true allergy,” he said.
Caitlin had already dashed off to play with her siblings and cousins again, her fun unimpeded by the rash that had concerned the adults.
“That was very clever of you,” Lois said to James, patting his shoulder approvingly. “Are you sure you can’t prescribe my little pills?”
“I’m sure, Mrs. Gambill.”
“Oh, call her Lois,” Virginia ordered. “And I’m Virginia. If you say Mrs. Gambill, Lois and Karen and I are all likely to answer.”
“Meat’s ready,” Hollis announced, setting a huge tray of steaming burgers and franks in the center of the table. “Stacy, you and Karen go ahead and fix the kids’ plates and let them start eating so the rest of us can enjoy our dinners.”
“Sit by your guest, Shannon,” her mother ordered, motioning toward the bench beside James. “You’re in the way here.”
Shannon heaved a sigh and moved to slide onto the bench beside him. “You’re in for it now,” she warned him in a low voice, her smile both mischievous and contagious. “Not only are you the hero who saved my nephew, you’re a doctor. I should warn you that the whole family will try to fix us up during the meal.”
“Fix us up?” he repeated.
“Yeah. They’ve been trying for months to match me up with someone. After all, I had my twenty-fifth birthday last spring, and I’m single and unattached—which, you can probably tell, is unheard of in this family of early breeders. You must look like a prize stud to them.”
Her blunt phrasing took him aback for a moment, but then she laughed. Her green eyes sparkled with humor and her grin was an invitation to share a secret joke with her.
It was an offer he couldn’t resist. He laughed, too, earning them approving smiles from Shannon’s mother and aunt. This, of course, only made them laugh harder.
James couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d laughed out loud like this. It felt pretty damned good, he decided, still smiling when he turned to the heaping plate of food his hosts nudged encouragingly toward him.
