“Music didn’t pay the rent.”
Becky gave an understanding harrumph. “Can you be here at three on Friday?”
“I can. Yes.” This time she didn’t have to force a smile. This was the start of her reinvention.
“Great. Now, skedaddle, I’ve got some distributors’ butts to chew.” She turned away and picked up the receiver of an old-fashioned avocado-green phone.
Considering Becky was now her boss, Greer did as she was told and skedaddled out the side door. Her step lighter than it had been for months, she did a little jig to her car. Her phone vibrated, putting a halt to her impromptu performance.
She fished it out of her back pocket. Emmett’s name flashed. She tensed. Their last words had been harsh, and she wasn’t in the mood to apologize. But what if he needed help? Now didn’t seem the time to piss off the universe.
“Have you fallen and can’t get up?” she asked, half needling and half worried.
“Har-har. Thanks for asking, but I’m fine.”
The hand clutching the phone eased. Her relief was like taking an antacid, and her insides returned to their previously scheduled activities. “I’m glad.”
“I’m … sorry.”
Surprised he was the first to offer an olive branch, she slipped into the shade of a tree and flapped her shirt. The night’s storm had only ratcheted up the humidity. The air was stagnant and the temperature registered barely below that of the surface of the sun. “That must have cost you to admit.”
“Actually, no. Our fight’s been eating at me. I’m just glad to have the excuse to call you and tell you.”
“Excuse? Is your apology not the reason for your call?”
“No. I … uh … actually do need help.” The words came like each one hurt.
Part of her wanted to tease him about needing her, but she was afraid it would send him back into his hidey-hole. “Tell me what you need.”
A pause. “I was a total jerk. It’s that easy for you to forgive me?”
“I wasn’t exactly sweetness and light. I should be more understanding of your … situation.”
“No.” He barked the word, then continued on in a softer tone, “No, I like the fact you don’t pussyfoot around my bullshit.”
The silence between them felt both fragile and unbreakable. She injected her voice with a dark humor she knew he’d appreciate. “You said pussyfoot.”
She was rewarded with one of his rare laughs. “Are you busy? Could you come out to the cabin?”
“I’m available. I just finished up at Becky’s Bar.”
“Lord, you didn’t trash the place again, did you?” An answering tease roughened his voice.
“A few broken glasses does not qualify as trashing it. Actually, you’re speaking to Becky’s new weekend bartender.” Only when she said it aloud did she recognize how pathetic her pride sounded. A weekend bartender in a podunk town like Madison wasn’t anything to brag about. She braced for his ridicule.
“Congrats, Greer. I’m proud of you for putting yourself out there.”
She blinked back a sudden sting of tears. “I have you to thank, you know.”
“Me?”
“The other night, you were right about more than I wanted to admit at the time. I owe you an apology too. I’m sorry I got defensive and stormed out.”
“Wow. We’re both acting all mature and adult-like. This is weird.”
A laugh sputtered out of her. “I know. Call the papers. What can I help with?”
“My truck battery is dead, and I have a somewhat urgent errand.”
“Did you run out of Hot Pockets?”
“A week ago, as a matter of fact, but that’s not what I need you for. Any chance you can give me a ride?”
“Sure. Of course. I’m on my way.”
“See you soon.” He disconnected, and she stared at the blank screen for a few seconds as bubbles of happiness fizzed inside of her.
She got moving toward Emmett, her car AC drowning out the radio. He was leaving his fortress of solitude. Whether she had anything to do with his change of heart or not, at least he had called her. Reality was, he had probably pissed off the rest of Madison and had no one else to call, but the moment felt significant.
When she pulled off the road next to the locked gate, he stepped out from behind a pine tree before she even turned her engine off. He arced one leg over the fence and wobbled. She knew better than to jump out and take his arm. That was the kind of help he couldn’t tolerate.
Instead, she clutched her steering wheel as if that would help steady him and watched his struggle through the corner of her eye. He got his other leg over without toppling and checked a bulge in the side pocket of his cargo pants. She caught her breath when the bulge moved and a little black face poked out. He opened the passenger door and slipped inside.
“Is that a cat in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” she asked.
Another of his rumbly laughs filled the car. This one applied a shock straight to her heart, making it skip faster. He pulled the kitten out and set it on his lap. It was painfully skinny. “My friend here needs a trip to the vet. Does Harry take walk-ins?”
“Harry retired last year, and Ryan Humphries bought his practice. I’m sure he’d make the time for you.”
“He’ll do.” He buckled himself into the passenger seat. The kitten climbed up his shirt to perch on his shoulder.
Greer couldn’t move.
The kitten’s purr could be heard over the AC noise as it bumped its head against his chin, seeking attention. He rubbed a finger along its cheek. Greer swallowed. In the small confines of her car, she was aware of him in ways she hadn’t thought about—hadn’t let herself think about.
His knees almost bumped the console, his shoulders were wider than the seat, and his elbow encroached onto her side of the armrest. She’d been thinking of him as her obligation. Her project.
But he was also a man. A handsome man with cool, complicated blue eyes shadowed with troubles and cheekbones that cut too sharply in his face. He needed as much care and tenderness as the kitten.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” His tone veered toward suspicious.
“Nothing. I’m not … What?” She clamped her mouth closed to stop her babbling.
He quirked an eyebrow. She forced her focus away from him but was clumsy on the turn, jouncing them into the washed-out groove on the shoulder. The kitten meowed in protest. Once on the road toward town, she searched for an innocuous subject. “Have you picked a name?”
“I’m not keeping her.”
She took her foot off the gas and glanced over. He stared out the window, his arms crossed. The ball of fur kneading his neck and leaving little red marks dented his aloof, tough-guy image.
“Why not?” She concentrated on not running a stop sign or getting pulled over. With her luck, it would be Wayne.
“I can’t take care of a cat.”
“Why not?” she asked again like an annoying toddler.
“Because…” He shook his head and shrugged.
“Great answer. Real insightful.”
He shifted, his elbow bumping hers. “You know why I can’t keep her.”
“Actually, I don’t know.”
“I can barely take care of myself.”
“You can take care of yourself just fine. You have chosen to neglect yourself as some sort of punishment.”
His arm tensed against hers. “What are you talking about?”
“At a wild guess, I would suspect you’re punishing yourself for surviving. If the ghosts of your guys that didn’t make it home could haunt you, I’d bet they’d kick you where the sun don’t shine.”
He muffled a curse with his hand, a bark of laughter escaping. “I don’t think you understand how therapy works.”
“I’m not your therapist.”
“You’re my music therapist, aren’t you?”
“I assumed I was fired. Something to do with my ass, your good foot, an
d a shotgun?”
“I thought we’d moved past that little incident.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t tease you about it.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and tossed him a smile. A funny expression she couldn’t decipher put a crinkle between his eyes. It was like she was sitting behind him in World History again, filled with a nervous excitement that he might finally notice her. She cleared her throat. “How does therapy work anyway?”
“You talk. They listen then nod as if they fucking understand then spout some platitudes.” The bitterness was like a wound that wouldn’t scab.
“Didn’t work so well for you, huh?” She turned into the veterinarian office parking lot and took a space as close to the front as possible without seeming obvious.
“I’m not talking to a stranger about my problems.”
“How about a friend?” With the delicacy of snipping the wire to an unexploded bomb, she asked, “Or your father?”
“Are you kidding me?” He climbed out of her car and shut the door on their conversation.
The tension from the car followed him like a dog and clipped his voice at the receptionist’s desk. “Can Ryan work me in? I have a stray kitten that needs a once-over.”
The receptionist was young and pretty and so blithely happy about everything from the weather to typing Emmett’s information into the computer, Greer was jealous. Had she ever been in possession of such starry-eyed optimism?
Maybe right after she’d moved to Nashville and assumed success was one gig away. The years had ground her hope to dust like a pestle to mortar.
Emmett pulled the kitten from his side pocket and put her on his shoulder. She seemed happy to set her claws in his cotton shirt and burrow into his neck. He walked over to a corkboard covered in flyers for animals to give away. The majority were cats.
“Should I put something up for her?” He nodded toward the kitten.
“You’re serious about giving her away?”
“Yes.” The way the word lilted into an almost-question made her wonder if he wasn’t already growing attached. “What would I do with a cat?”
Love it. She bit the inside of her cheek and merely shrugged. Was he so damaged he couldn’t love anything or anyone—even himself? As if already wanting to distance himself, he plucked the kitten off his shoulder and handed it to her.
Greer ignored him while they waited. A help wanted flyer took up the middle of the corkboard. The vet clinic was looking for another receptionist and animal tech. Was she qualified? She tucked the idea away to mull over it.
Ryan Humphries strode out of a windowless door, a huge smile on his blandly handsome face. While he was the same age as Greer and Emmett, he had the well-fed, contented look of an older man. The solid frame that had made him a high school All-Tennessee tight end had expanded, yet he still carried himself as if he were ready to jog onto the field and take up his stance.
“It’s great to see you, man.” Ryan went in for a hug.
Emmett stood with his arms at his sides as if enduring the affection. After one bone-rattling pat on his shoulder from Ryan, Emmett raised a hand, not to return the sentiment, but to put space between them.
“You look”—Ryan’s gaze dropped to Emmett’s legs and his smile faltered, but didn’t disappear—“great. Really great.”
Greer barked a laugh, drawing both men’s attention. Emmett’s tight lips morphed into a half smile when his gaze clashed with hers. He was in desperate need of a haircut, a week of sleep, and a month’s worth of hearty meals.
“Greer Hadley?” Ryan’s gaze zipped down her body and back up, the slight gleam veering less toward “old friend” friendly than “how you doin’” friendly. “Heard you were back. Heard about Beau too. Rotten situation.”
She sidled closer to Emmett. “How’s Jessica?”
“No idea. Divorce was final three months ago.” He held up his left hand. Where a ring used to reside was a fading white strip of skin. “She couldn’t get out of Madison fast enough.”
“I’m sorry. I hadn’t heard,” Greer said.
“Thank God there were no kids to complicate things.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Come on back, and I’ll take a look at your kitten.”
She hoped she was misreading the vibes Ryan was putting out. Not even if Elvis in his bad-boy “Jailhouse Rock” days was resurrected and wanted to sweep her off to Graceland would she consider a relationship with a man at the moment—undead or real.
If it were possible, Emmett’s frown had grown more pronounced and was aimed squarely at Ryan’s back. She elbowed him and mouthed what’s wrong as they followed Ryan into an exam room. He only narrowed his eyes at her.
She set the kitten on the silver metal table. Ryan’s exam was deft and gentle and made her think he actually knew what he was doing.
“What’s her name?” Ryan glanced up at Greer as he set the kitten down. It crouched closer to Emmett, who unfolded his arms from across his chest to stroke the kitten’s head.
“Don’t ask me.” She thumbed toward Emmett. “She’s his kitten.”
“Not mine. She’s a stray. I’m thinking some asshole dumped her out at the road leading to the cabin. I’m not keeping her. In fact, if I cover her workup and shots, maybe you could send her to a shelter or something.” He tucked the kitten closer.
Ryan propped his hip against a storage unit topped with a laptop. “Shots or not, the county shelter will euthanize her by the end of the day if she shows up looking like that.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Emmett’s hand closed around the kitten as if Ryan were threatening to do the deed himself.
“She’s too skinny and fleabitten. They’re already overrun with ferals and strays. If you’re going to keep her, I’d suggest a blood screening, a flea bath, and vaccinations. If you’re not, I wouldn’t waste the money on the long shot she’ll get adopted at the shelter.”
Emmett turned to Greer. “You can take her, can’t you?”
“Mama’s allergic.”
If for one second she thought Emmett would actually send the kitten to the county shelter, she would have taken the kitten anyway, but too much of the old Emmett lived in him, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He was honor-bound to do the right thing.
Emmett muttered a curse, then held the cat out, its paws dangling over either side of his palm. “Fine. Give her the works—blood screening, bath, shots.”
Ryan’s lips twitched as if he too had foreseen the inevitability of the decision. “I’ll be back.”
Once they were alone, Greer asked, “What are you going to name her?”
“Cat.”
“Cat? That’s pitiful.”
“Yet wholly accurate.”
“How about Tanya? Or Reba?” She caught his eye roll and paced. Who would Emmett have idolized? “Stevie? Bonnie?”
“As in Bonnie Raitt?” His eyebrows perked, and Greer pounced.
“She’s an incredible songwriter and guitarist.”
“Yeah. I suppose Bonnie would be fine.” He whispered the name as if testing it: “Bonnie.”
She turned away and pretended to examine a mundane watercolor print to hide her smile. While she hadn’t made any strides with him in terms of actual music, he was shuffling toward the land of the living, but one wrong move would send him scurrying back to his solitude.
Ryan returned with Bonnie, freshly washed with a shaved place on her front leg and a small bandage. Bedraggled and resentful, she was handed over to Emmett, who tucked her back into his pocket. Without a meow of protest, she burrowed out of sight, knowing she was safe.
While the two men shook hands, Ryan said, “We have a flag football league on Saturday morning down at the park. You should come out. It would be like old times.”
“No, thanks.”
“Come on, man. You’ll know most of the guys. They’d be excited to see you on the field again.” Ryan’s smile was cajoling. “We need a decent quarterback.”
“I said no.” Emm
ett sounded like a drill sergeant. He didn’t break eye contact with Ryan or try to diffuse the tension through politeness.
Ryan’s throat worked with a swallow, and he stepped back and held his hands up as if Emmett needed talking off a ledge. “No problem. Offer remains open anytime, though. I’ll see you two around town.” His gaze lingered on Greer, and although he wasn’t being creepy or pushy, she felt uncomfortable nonetheless and discarded the idea of applying for the receptionist job.
She wasn’t being fair. Ryan was a nice guy with a good career. Except she couldn’t summon an iota of attraction. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been truly attracted to a man. Her relationship with Beau had been based on the familiar comfort of an old couch. Which was probably why he had cheated.
“Come on. I’m hungry.” Greer tugged on the side of Emmett’s T-shirt. It stretched taut before Emmett allowed Greer to lead him out of the exam room and to the receptionist’s counter to pay. Ryan didn’t follow them.
After Emmett handed over his credit card, Greer stepped into the sweltering afternoon sun. The air was thick, but a gusting breeze heralded the approach of a late-afternoon thunderstorm. She unlocked her car and climbed behind the wheel. It took extra maneuvering for Emmett to fold his body into the compact seat, his artificial leg and pocket of kitten adding to the complications.
She cranked the AC, but it didn’t have time to cool the interior before she parked on Oak Street in front of the Downtown Café.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I told you. I’m hungry and you’re buying me a chicken salad sandwich and a side of cobbler.” She cracked her door open. The temperature of the air outside was dropping fast.
“I am, am I?” He didn’t sound angry, yet he made no move to get out.
“Yep. And if you don’t come on now, we’re going to get soaked.” A fat droplet splatted on the windshield. More followed, picking up pace.
She hopped out and squealed as the sky opened, making a run for the overhang on the front of the café. Emmett came around the front of her car in an awkward run-walk. Her first instinct was to turn and pretend something else caught her eye, but Emmett was too sharp and would notice the pity look-away. She held his gaze as he came up to stand inches away from her, water dripping from his hair and trailing down his cheeks.
An Everyday Hero Page 11
