Best Medicine, The

by Brogan, Tracy

  “What about your father?” I took another sip of bitter martini.

  Tyler’s smile turned down. “Husband number one. Good man. Great dad. Lived on his own terms.” That had a ring of finality to it.

  “What happened to him?”

  “Iraq war.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” I’d done reconstructive surgery on some veterans, and every single one of them was politely tough, doggedly pragmatic, and all any of them seemed concerned about was getting back to their job.

  “Yeah, well, you know. Shit happens.” He took a big gulp from his beer, then set it back on the table and shrugged off his momentary wistfulness. “So anyway, after my dad died, husband number two came and went. He didn’t last long, and now we have Carl.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “Me, my mom, my little brother, Scotty, and my sisters, Aimee and Wendy. I have an older brother too, but he’s off in New Zealand or somewhere. He’s a cameraman for a wilderness TV show, so we don’t see much of him.”

  “That’s too bad,” I said, although he didn’t seem particularly upset about it.

  Tyler’s shrug was minuscule. “Not really. He’s kind of an ass.”

  “Hm, too bad. So, tell me about the day you got arrested.”

  Tyler stretched, raising his arms up over his head and treating me to a vision of muscles flexing beneath a nice shirt. He really was a hunka hunka something yummy. Damn, if I were ten years younger. Or seven. Or even five . . .

  “The short version is Scotty likes to borrow stuff that doesn’t belong to him.”

  “You mean steal things?”

  “No, I mean borrow without asking. He always intends to take it back.”

  Scotty didn’t sound very bright. “OK, what’s the longer version?”

  “The longer version is pretty long. It’s going to require a second drink.” He signaled for the waitress to bring him another beer. He pointed at my nearly full martini glass and cocked a quizzical brow, but I shook my head. The gin was burning right through my esophagus. I could almost feel it soaking into my blouse. One of these cocktails would be plenty.

  Tyler set his forearms on the table. “OK, well, the day I got arrested had started off pretty good. I was on a boat, hanging out at the marina with some friends, just having a few drinks. It was early, but most of us were coming off a week of night shifts, so it felt late to us. And then—”

  “Night shifts?” I interrupted him.

  “Yeah, and my friend says—”

  “Night shifts from where?”

  He looked at me as if the question made no sense.

  “MedPro Ambulance. I’m an EMT.”

  “You are?” Surprise sent my voice two octaves higher. And it wasn’t flattering. “I didn’t realize you were an EMT. Your patient chart said you were unemployed.” All this time I’d thought he was a deadbeat dog walker, but all this time he’d actually been working. At a real job. A hard job. Tyler Connelly was an EMT? Damn.

  He shook his head slowly, chagrined by my reaction. “Yeah, well, here’s the thing about patient registration paperwork. Those questions are a lot harder to answer when you’re drunk. Especially if you think your arm might be broken.”

  I thought back to that day, but nothing about his demeanor suggested medical training. Then again, I’d been so distracted by the physicality of him, I would have missed it anyway.

  “So, anyway,” he continued on, “we’re sitting at the marina and my buddy says, ‘Hey, isn’t that your brother?’ And there’s Scotty pulling up to one of the docks on somebody’s Jet Ski and he’s . . . freaking out.”

  The waitress arrived and set down another beer. Tyler eyed it, as if he could see the reflection of his memory on the surface. He pushed it to the side.

  “Why was he freaking out?” I asked as soon as she’d walked away.

  Tyler rubbed a hand over his jaw, his facial muscles tensing. He looked around the restaurant, then back to me, and leaned in. I found myself mimicking his motions until our faces were just inches apart. The bronze light fixture dangling above our booth cast a warm glow over this intimate scene, but Tyler’s eyes were dark with shadows.

  “This is the part you can’t tell anyone,” he said in a husky whisper. “Scotty has been working with a couple of house painters, and they were at this cottage on the waterway. But the owners weren’t home, so Scotty, being the rocket scientist that he is, he figures he can just take a quick ride on the Jet Ski during his break and not get caught. Only he’s such a dumbass, he doesn’t check the gauge first, and he almost runs out of gas. He was closer to the marina than he was to the cottage, and he knew I was there, so that’s where he came.”

  “But how did you end up on the Jet Ski?” I whispered, loving the clandestine nature of our conversation.

  Tyler’s eyes held mine, as if gauging my trustworthiness. “Scotty was in a panic because he had to get back to work, but he didn’t have any money for gas, so I told him to just take my Jeep, and I’d fill up the Jet Ski’s fuel tank and ride it back to the house. Stupid of me, but I figured by the time I’d gotten the gas, I’d be sober enough to drive. Only I guess I wasn’t, because that’s how I misjudged the distance. I didn’t turn sharp enough, and that’s when I smashed into the boat dock. You know, with my face?”

  I nodded. That part had been obvious.

  Tyler took a big breath and exhaled slowly. “So I’m lying there, half in the water, half on the dock, bleeding and clueless, and the next thing I know, Scotty is dragging me into my own Jeep. Then he dumps me at the hospital and leaves. But apparently one of the neighbors saw the whole thing, got my license plate number, and naturally called the police. That’s why I got arrested.”

  I sat up. “But why didn’t you tell them you were returning it for your brother?”

  He looked me straight in the eye, as if I might challenge his answer.

  “Because he’s my brother.”

  I paused to let that sink in. I understood it from a theoretical standpoint, but from a practical and a moral standpoint, I didn’t get it.

  “And you’re his brother. He should have told the police himself what happened and not let you take the blame.”

  Tyler shook his head and frowned at me, his voice low. “No, he shouldn’t have. And you can’t tell anyone either.”

  “Well . . . I won’t, but I’m still confused.”

  Tyler sat back, his expression grim. “Scotty is already on probation. Two guys jumped him in a bar last year, but he knocked one of them out and got charged with assault. If he can stay out of trouble until he turns twenty-one, that previous offense is gone, like it never happened. But if he gets arrested for anything, even a traffic violation, it all goes on his permanent record.”

  “But now you’ve got it on your record.”

  “These charges aren’t going to stick. I’ll plead it down and pay restitution, and it’ll all go away. But Scotty couldn’t take that chance. If he gets stuck with that old assault charge, he can’t enlist. And being a soldier, like our dad, is the only thing he’s ever wanted to do.”

  The pieces had finally formed a picture, but not at all the picture I’d expected. “You pled guilty to something you didn’t do just so your brother could enlist?”

  He pressed an index finger against his mouth. “Shh. That’s the secret.”

  My senses stirred. This was either the most selfless thing I’d ever heard, or the stupidest. Or, quite possibly, both.

  “That’s a huge risk you took on his behalf.”

  “Well, like I said, he’s my little brother. If I don’t take care of him, who will? Our dad’s gone, Carl is a stooge, and my mother? Well, she’s not so good in a crisis. She doesn’t know anything about this. That’s the other reason I’m trying to keep it a secret. Plus if Scotty’s probation officer catches wind of it, he’s screwed.”

 
I had thought there’d be some funny anecdote about drunken antics on a boat or a comedy of errors and misunderstandings that led to the Jet Ski incident. Not a tale of brother sacrificing for brother. It made me see Tyler in a whole new light, which was not necessarily a good thing, because he was still too young for me.

  “Tyler?”

  I heard a man’s voice from over my shoulder and looked up to see Jasper walk up to our table. “Hey, I thought that was you. Good to see you, Ty.”

  Tyler stood up and they did the he-man, A-frame hug with requisite back thumping while I wondered if Jasper had overheard any of our conversation.

  “How are you, Jas? This is your place, isn’t it?” Tyler asked. His smile was relaxed, and I felt that momentary tension leave. If he wasn’t worried, I guess I shouldn’t worry.

  “Yep, all mine.” Jasper nodded and turned toward me. Surprise quirked his features. “Well, hello. Evelyn, isn’t it?”

  “Hello, Jasper.” I waved like a pageant queen.

  “You two know each other?” Tyler asked.

  Jasper nodded. “Evelyn works with Gabby Linton. Remember her? Blonde hair. Tie-dye. Drama club.”

  “Kind of. She was a year older, right?”

  I winced. Everyone around here had attended Bell Harbor High School, but that comment was a harsh reminder that while I was graduating from Northwestern University, Tyler was here, struggling with tenth-grade geometry.

  Jasper nodded. “Yeah, that’s Gabby. She looks exactly the same except now the hair is kind of pink. So what are you up to these days, Ty? Got your boat in the water yet?”

  Tyler hesitated. “No, not yet.”

  “It’ll happen. I never thought I’d have this place either, but somehow it all worked out. How’s your family doing?” Jasper gripped the back of a nearby chair and leaned.

  “Oh, you know.” Tyler shrugged. “Same old, same old. Everybody’s misbehaving.”

  “That sounds about right.” Jasper laughed and bobbed his head. “Hey, if either of your sisters are looking for a job, though, tell them to come see me. Like, tomorrow. I’m desperate for a couple more waitresses, especially since we’ve started doing deliveries too.”

  Tyler hesitated again. “All right. Yeah, I will.”

  “Great. Hey, did you guys have dinner?”

  Tyler cast a glance my way.

  “Just drinks,” I said. “It turns out Tyler wasn’t ready for dinner.”

  “What?” Jasper’s frown was exaggerated. “How could you come here and not eat? I’m insulted. At least let me get you some dessert. On the house.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary—” But Jasper was already holding out his hand to shut me up.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said, turning toward the kitchen.

  Tyler slid back into the seat. “Dessert, huh? Where does that fall into the scheme of drinks but no dinner?”

  Hmm. Dessert. The sweet, forbidden ending.

  I wasn’t normally a self-indulgent woman, but maybe tonight I could make an exception.

  Jasper was back minutes later with one plate and two forks. Fantastic. Because that wasn’t at all provocative, sharing a moist, gooey dessert. He set the plate between us. It was some kind of chocolate mousse surrounded by an artful arrangement of berries and a deep red sauce.

  “There you go. Enjoy! Hope to see you here again soon.”

  He walked away, and we stared at the plate as if waiting for it to hatch. Tyler ruffled the back of his hair.

  “That looks good,” he said, nodding at the dessert.

  “Yes, it does.” I picked up a fork. “I feel guilty already.”

  Chapter 11

  THE DESSERT WAS DELICIOUS, AND so was the conversation. We moved on from his adventures in crime and talked about other things—like how ridiculous he’d felt trying to navigate all those teensy little dogs through the park, and how embarrassed he’d been to see me there. Then I confessed I’d once known how to twirl a baton.

  “You could probably still do it, don’t you think?” he asked.

  I sensed a dare coming on, but I wasn’t going to fall for it. “Probably, but I’ll never show you.”

  His smile brightened, and I wondered if he fully comprehended how marvelously attractive he was.

  “Did you have a sparkly costume with red, white, and blue stripes? I bet you did.” His teasing was dangerously addictive. I could get used to it. But then I’d just want more and more, until there wasn’t any left. Still, he persisted.

  “You did have a costume! I can tell. Did it say Dr. Rhoades right here?” He pointed to a spot right over his heart.

  I laughed along with him. “No, it did not say Dr. Rhoades. It said Evie.”

  “Evie.” He said my name as if it were a revelation. I wanted him to say it again.

  And he did.

  “Evie. I like that. Evelyn seemed a little formal.”

  I straightened my spine and tried to stare him down, but I’d polished off that martini and felt more tipsy than threatening. Nonetheless, I was determined to make my point.

  “I’m a formal kind of person.” My declaration was ruined by a hiccup.

  “I can see that,” he answered.

  On a scale of tepid to scorching, his gaze registered at slightly hotter than platonic, and his charm was a tangible web surrounding me. But the hour was getting late. Late by my standards, at least. I sighed and leaned back against the seat cushion. “I should go home. I have surgery in the morning.”

  His smile faded, his gaze cooled to companionable resignation. “Yeah, and I have to walk the dogs. Will you be in the park?”

  I wanted to be. I wanted to walk alongside him and those silly little dogs. Too bad for me. “No, surgery days start too early for walking.”

  He looked down, then reached back to pull his wallet from his pocket.

  I was faster and tugged my wallet from my purse. “No, these drinks are on me. My thanks to you for rescuing me from the toilet seat salesman.”

  He pulled out his own wallet out anyway. “I don’t think so. I got them.”

  “At least let me pay for my own.”

  A matching pair of lines formed between his furrowed brows. “No.” He pulled out some bills and tucked them into the leather folio left earlier by the waitress.

  “I’m the one who followed you in here,” I said.

  “Exactly. That’s why I’ll pay for the drinks.”

  His logic made no sense, but then again, he was a man, so I shouldn’t expect it to. I could see I wasn’t going to win this one.

  “Well. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I didn’t know what to say after that. I didn’t particularly want this night to end, but it had to. And Tyler had an unnerving habit of maintaining eye contact without blinking, as if we were having some sort of contest and I just didn’t realize it. I always seemed to be the one to look away first. I resisted the urge to tap my fingers on the tabletop.

  “Well,” I said again, “I guess I’ll . . . see you around.”

  “I’ll walk you to your car.” His tone was as certain as it had been when he’d said “no” about the drinks.

  “I don’t have a car. I walked.”

  “From home?”

  “From my apartment, yes. It’s only about six blocks from here.” My intention was to prove I could get home quite safely on my own, but he didn’t seem to pick up on that.

  “Then I’ll walk you,” he said.

  “It’s really quite close.”

  His smile was honey sweet. “Then it shouldn’t take us very long.”

  We paid the bill, waved to Jasper, who was behind the bar, and walked out into the Bell Harbor evening. It was still warm, and the crickets were loud. Off in the distance I could hear the lake. The moon was a sliver, but the streetla
mps lit our way.

  “I really will be fine, you know,” I said one last time.

  “I know,” he said, with no hint of giving up.

  Having him walk me home to keep me safe was the height of irony. Sure, I’d be protected from muggers and vagrants, which I wasn’t sure this town even had, but Tyler was a whole different kind of dangerous. He was the sexy kind, with big, tan hands and a mouth that managed to be both masculine and beautiful at the same time.

  A mouth I wanted to kiss.

  I wanted to kiss him in the same desperate way I’d wanted to taste that dessert, knowing the sensation would start out on my tongue but spread out deliciously through the rest of me, pushed by the pulse of my heart. This was a problem. A big problem.

  While science made sense to me, human nature was imprecise and spontaneous. Emotions were unpredictable. Tonight was the perfect example. Everything I knew to be true about myself provided evidence that Tyler Connelly was a high-risk, low-return gamble, but my body didn’t care. My body wasn’t using logic. My body was falling back on neuron patterns formed during the caveman days when women needed a club-wielding he-man who could wrestle a wooly mammoth to the ground. But Bell Harbor didn’t have an unruly wooly mammoth population, so why did I feel so fluttery and feminine with Tyler by my side? Was it because he moved around to my left when we crossed the street so he was consistently between me and traffic? Was it because he smelled so damn good? Was it because my DNA sensed that his DNA would make a superior baby?

  Whatever the reasons, if I wasn’t careful, my hormones would flood me with mood-altering endorphins and trick me into thinking this man was right for me.

  He wasn’t. Being with him would be like shooting a flare gun. Once I’d pulled the trigger, there’d be no stopping the fireworks. It would light up the sky for a minute or two, but then it would be over, as if it had never happened at all.

  “So,” he said after we’d walked a moment in silence. “Are you pretty set on this marriage thing, or are you just trying to scare me away?”

  My voice sounded a little resigned. “Both, I guess.”