Riley and His Girls (Mills & Boon Vintage Cherish) (Mills & Boon Cherish)

by Janis Reams Hudson

  By four forty-five that afternoon Amy had reached a shattering decision. She could not continue to face Riley every day as long as there was this awful tension between them. Since no resolution to the tension seemed near, she was going to have to find herself another job.

  She wouldn’t leave him flat. Business was slow during winter weather like this, she reminded herself as she looked out the window at the ice building up on every surface out there. It wasn’t as if her presence was critical to his success. But she would stay at least until Fanny came back after the first of the year.

  The decision eased the tension in her shoulders, but left her incredibly sad. But it was for the best that she leave. He would be relieved, she was sure.

  When the phone rang, she welcomed the distraction. “Sinclair Construction.”

  “This is County Deputy Will Sanchez. Is this Amy Galloway?”

  “It is. What can I do for you, Deputy?”

  “Ma’am, there’s been an accident.”

  Chapter Ten

  All the way to the hospital on the hill at the south edge of town Amy kept her mind blank. She couldn’t allow herself to think. She scarcely allowed herself to breathe. An accident. Riley. Deer. Truck. Ditch. The words hurled themselves at her one after the other, like heat-seeking missiles.

  At the last stop sign before the hill, she hit her brakes too hard and her tires slid across the intersection. She was lucky no other cars were coming. She held her breath until the car straightened out, then eased up the hill and skated into the parking lot of the hospital.

  With a prayer on her lips, she rushed into the hospital and demanded to see Riley.

  They told her she should sit down. They told her it shouldn’t be long. They told her she had to wait.

  She told them, “Point me toward Riley Sinclair right this minute and you might live to see the end of your shift.”

  “Security!”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Amy said as she started down the hall. “If you’ve got a security guard here in the middle of the day I’ll kiss somebody’s backside.” She followed the sound of voices into an exam room.

  In the doorway, she froze. “Riley.” Her heart jumped into her throat. He sat on the end of the exam table, one shoe missing and that pant leg ripped open to the knee. Bloody scratches crisscrossed the flesh visible through the tear, and more scratches marred the backs of his hands.

  “Hold that right here and press.” An elderly man in a white lab coat directed Riley’s hand to the gauze pad at the side of his head. The doctor then turned toward the counter behind him.

  Amy swallowed around the lump of terror threatening to choke her. “Riley, what happened? Are you all right? How bad is it?” She rushed to his side.

  “Amy.” Riley held one arm out for her while using his other hand to hold the gauze pad in place. His face was streaked with blood and scratches.

  “I’m all right, just a little cut on the head.”

  They stared at each other for a moment, then he pulled her hard against his chest. With a small sob, she went willingly.

  “I was so scared. All they said was you’d had an accident and the ambulance took you to the hospital. I didn’t know what to think.”

  “I’m sorry.” He clasped her tight and kissed her temple, her cheek. “I’m sorry you were scared. Don’t be scared.”

  Still frantic, she touched his face, every place she could find that didn’t look as if it hurt. His eyebrows. One cheek. His nose. “I’m so sorry I pushed you away.”

  “No, no, I’m sorry.” His hungry eyes searched every inch of her face. “I shouldn’t have rushed you.”

  “No, you should have. I was being silly, and that’s not like me.”

  “When the truck rolled into the ditch, all I could think was that I let you go too easily. I shouldn’t have let you push me away. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I should have fought for you, for us. I don’t want to scare you off.”

  She choked back a sob of relief. “You couldn’t scare me off after this with a Howitzer.”

  He squeezed her so hard with one arm that she feared her ribs would crack, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want him ever to let go of her. But she was afraid to squeeze him too hard until she knew the extent of his injuries.

  She pushed back slightly. “How bad’s your head? What about your leg?”

  “I’m fine,” he told her. “Just a few scratches.”

  A disgusted “Hmph” came from the doctor at the counter behind them.

  Amy narrowed her eyes at Riley. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  He grimaced. “It’s no big deal. I just need a couple of stitches, that’s all. Then I’m outta here.”

  “Six,” came the doctor’s voice. “And you should spend the night for observation.”

  Amy’s fear eased into concern. He wasn’t going to die from his injuries, but he was banged up enough to cause some damage. “What else, Doctor?” she asked.

  The doctor turned and started cleaning the gash on Riley’s head.

  “You’re not going to shave a bald spot, are you?” Riley asked warily.

  “Hush up,” Amy told him. “If he needs to shave a bald spot, you’ll let him.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Oh,” the doctor said with an arched brow. “So that’s the way the wind blows, huh? Can you get him to stay the night?”

  Amy swallowed. “What would be the purpose?”

  “I’d like to keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t develop any problems from this mild concussion he’s given himself.”

  “Hey, don’t blame me,” Riley protested. “Go talk to that twelve-point buck I swerved to miss.”

  Ignoring Riley, Amy looked to the doctor. “I can check on him during the night.”

  “Every few hours? Make sure he knows who and where he is? And when?”

  “I can do that,” she promised. “Better that than scare his daughters to death. They just lost their mother last year. If their father ends up in the hospital, well, I don’t think we should put them through that if we don’t have to.”

  Riley threaded his fingers through hers and looked at her with deep gratitude. “Thank you. I’m kinda surprised Marva hasn’t swooped down on me yet.”

  “My fault. I knew she had the girls with her so I told the deputy not to call over there, that I’d take care of it.”

  Riley smiled. “My brave soldier.”

  “Not at all,” she admitted. “Just selfish. I wanted to get my hands on you first. I’ll get you situated at home, then I’ll go over there and tell them what’s happened and bring the girls home. It’ll make them feel better if they get to help take care of you.”

  “That sounds workable,” the doctor said. “I’ll look that leg over, then write you a script for antibiotics and a pain killer, because this head is going to pound like a bass drum.”

  “It already is,” Riley confessed.

  Amy pestered Riley to tell her what happened while the doctor finished suturing his head. He told her about the deer, about swerving, about ending up upside-down in the ditch.

  Amy shuddered at how easily he could have been killed. Or died of hypothermia or exposure if someone hadn’t found him before night. “What happened to Bambi?” she asked.

  “Bambi’s dad. I missed him. He ran off. Man, he was a beauty.”

  “He needs to stay off the road,” she said with a low growl. “He nearly killed you.”

  “We’re even. I nearly killed him, too.”

  Amy would have taken Riley straight home from the hospital as planned, but he argued, successfully, that it would be a waste of time. They instead drove to the drug store and filled his prescriptions. Next they went to the Greens’ to get the girls. To get the worst of the day’s events behind him, he went to the door and presented himself, bloodstained, torn and stitched as he was, so Marva and Frank could see for themselves that he was fine. More or less.

  Amy went in with him, mainly to guard her plac
e at his side and prevent Marva from taking over his care.

  Possessive? Yes. Petty? Who cared?

  When all the fuss died down, Amy stepped in and steered Riley and his girls out the door. She drove them all straight home and got them into the house quickly. She sent Riley to his bathroom to clean up, then turned to his daughters.

  “Okay, girls, you’re going to have to help me take care of your daddy,” she told them.

  They lined up side by side and stared up at her solemnly.

  “Hey, don’t look so serious. Your daddy’s not hurt very badly.”

  “Our momma got hurt,” Jasmine said.

  “And she died,” Cindy added.

  “I know she did, sweetie, but your daddy’s not hurt that way. He just bumped his head when he wrecked his pickup. He’s not going to die from it. But he’s going to be sore, and his cuts and scrapes are going to hurt.”

  “Can we put bandages on them?” Jasmine asked.

  “We sure can,” Amy said.

  Cindy sniffled. “I don’t want Daddy to be hurt.”

  “Neither do I,” Amy said. “So we’ll have to take really good care of him, won’t we?”

  “I’ll get first aid supplies,” Pammy said. “I know what to get.”

  “Okay, bring them to the den. We’ll let him sit in his recliner while we doctor him,” Amy suggested. She craned her neck to peer down the hall. Seeing no sign of Riley, she led the girls a few feet away into the kitchen and gave them a conspiratorial wink.

  “Here’s the deal, girls. Your daddy’s barely hurt at all. No more than one of you falling off your bicycle and getting a few scrapes.”

  Pammy poked out her lower lip. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. I was there in the hospital when the doctor checked him over. He does have stitches on the side of his head, but not much else. But the thing is, guys are different than girls. Guys are bigger and stronger than we are. At the same time, when they get the least little scrape, or catch a cold, they turn into helpless babies. They need help with every little thing.”

  That got a round of smiles out of the girls.

  “I’m telling you this so you won’t worry about your daddy just because he moans and groans now and then over his aches and pains. It’s just that helpless baby inside the big man. He can’t help it. Now, here’s the rule. If you like the guy, or love him, you let him get away with it.”

  “What do you mean?” Pammy asked, a look of outrage on her nine-year-old face.

  “I mean we get them a drink of water, or a tissue, or a sandwich or whatever will make them feel better. They’re always there for us, so once in a while, like when they get a boo-boo or stitches on their head—”

  “Or a cold,” Cindy added.

  “Yes, or a cold. When that happens, we take care of them. Got it?”

  “I guess,” Pammy said.

  The other two girls nodded.

  “Okay, let’s go take care of your daddy.”

  Riley’s accident wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as the relief he felt that Amy had come for him. It wasn’t over between them. If he had his way, it might never be. And bless her for taking care of him and the girls tonight.

  He showered away the blood and mud and muck and tugged on a pair of clean jeans and a flannel shirt. Barefoot, he made his way back to the den and his girls. All four of them, he thought with awareness. He just needed a way to make certain the fourth one didn’t try to bolt on him again.

  They were waiting for him. He was in for it. They held cotton balls, hydrogen peroxide, bandages. His youngest wore her toy stethoscope around her neck. He bit back a bark of laughter; he wouldn’t hurt her feelings for the world, and she looked dead earnest.

  “Welcome to our clinic,” Amy told him. “Your personal staff of nurses is here to help you. But, sir, how are we supposed to doctor that leg if you’re wearing jeans?”

  Riley arched his brow. “You want me to take off my pants?”

  Amy’s eyes widened. She mashed her lips together.

  Three little girls giggled. One of them followed with a hiccup.

  “Could you put on a pair of shorts, or a robe, until we’re finished?”

  Riley chuckled and started toward the kitchen. “My leg’s fine. But my stomach is empty.”

  “No, Daddy, we have to doctor you.” Cindy planted herself before him, her tiny fists propped on her hips. “You’re s’posed to be helpless.”

  When all was said and done, Riley was once more in his jeans and flannel shirt, but his leg, arm and face bore bandages with purple dinosaurs on them. Amy had thrown together a supper of soup, salad and toast. Riley had drawn the line at letting Nurse Esmeralda feed him the soup one drizzling spoonful at a time, but to make up for it, he let her sit on his lap during the girls’ half hour of television. She had kept her stethoscope pressed to his chest and listened to his heartbeat during the entire program.

  By the time Amy had helped him tuck the girls in bed and he’d read to them for a few minutes, he was starting to feel the effects of the wreck. Every muscle in his body ached. His skin ached. His head, well, he couldn’t think of a word stronger than pounded, but pounded didn’t begin to describe it.

  “Here.” Amy held out a glass of water and two pills from his prescription bottles.

  “Reading my mind?” He downed the pills and the water.

  “Just the color of your skin. You’re looking a little pale.”

  He gave her a brief smile. “It’s the purple dinosaurs. They do it to me every time. Come here.” He pulled her close and rested his cheek on the top of her head. “Thank you for taking care of us tonight. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

  Alarmed at how heavily he leaned on her, Amy braced herself beneath his arm. “You would have managed. Come on. I bet you’re ready for bed.”

  He let her steer him down the hall toward his bedroom. “Are you coming with me?”

  “I’m right here, aren’t I?”

  “No, no, no, I mean are you coming to bed with me?”

  Amy smiled. Those pills were starting to work already. He was sounding like a petulant three-year-old. “Don’t worry about me. I’m going to take care of you.”

  “Yeah,” he said, staggering against the doorway to his room. “But are you going to take care of me?”

  She looked up at his face to see him jerking his eyebrows up and down, making two of the Barneys look as though they were dancing. She tried to swallow the bubble of laughter that rose in her so as not to disturb the girls just down the hall, but it came out as a snicker. “I think those pills are making you loopy. Come on, to bed with you.”

  She managed to pull the covers and his jeans down and get him seated on the side of the bed without tumbling them both to the floor. But he turned the tables on her and put his arm around her waist and tumbled them both onto his bed. His head landing against the mattress defeated his amorous intentions.

  “Ow,” he cried.

  “You have to be careful,” she cautioned.

  “You coulda warned me.”

  Again with the three-year-old pout. Amy smiled. “I’m sorry.” She scrambled free of his arms and legs and climbed from the bed. Finally she got him turned around so that his head lay cushioned on the pillow and the covers were pulled up to his chin. “You can sleep now,” she told him. “But I’ll be back in a little while to check on you.”

  “Don’t leave me.” His voice was fading. His eyes slid shut. “Stay with me.”

  She waited, one breath, two, three. He was sound asleep. She leaned over and kissed him between dinosaurs. “I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered.

  Nowhere farther than the other end of the hall. For this night, at least. She wasn’t going to look for trouble down the road. One day, and night, at a time. She could do that.

  In the den she found a recent paperback bestselling mystery novel. Marveling that Riley could ever find time to sit and read, she settled into his chair and opened it.

 
; Every couple of hours she returned to Riley’s bedside and woke him. “Who am I?” she asked.

  “Go away,” he muttered the first time.

  “What’s my name?” she insisted.

  “Sergeant Amy. I have purple dinosaurs on my face and stitches in my head. I know who and where I am, and I’m going back to sleep now.”

  “Okay, sleep.” She kissed his cheek and straightened the covers over his chest, but he never knew. He’d already gone back to sleep.

  The next time, she made him tell her the date and the names of his daughters.

  The third time she woke him he threatened to strangle her. “If you’re going to wake me up all night long, at least give me the pleasure of holding you.” He tugged on her arm and pulled her off balance, making her fall on top of him. They both let out a muffled oomph.

  “There.” He let out a deep sigh. “That’s better.”

  As much as Amy wanted to accommodate him and fall asleep draped across his chest or curled up in his arms, she knew she couldn’t allow herself the luxury. Not with three little girls just down the hall. She wasn’t prepared for the consequences—and she was sure that neither was Riley—of having his daughters wake up and find her in bed with their father.

  Oh, no, that wouldn’t do at all.

  She pushed herself off the bed, gave him another kiss, this one on the mouth, and lingering, then escaped to the den again. At least she could let him sleep for several hours this time, according to the doctor’s instructions. Which meant that she could get some sleep herself. She stretched out on the couch and closed her eyes.

  “Should we wake her up?”

  “No.”

  “I think we should wake her up.”

  Back and forth the loud whispers went, penetrating Amy’s brain, forcing their way into her sleep.

  She’d had the oddest dream. She dreamed she’d fallen asleep on Riley’s couch.

  Riley’s couch!

  She sprang upright, blinking her eyes open.

  Three little girls shrieked and jumped back.

  Wiping his hands on a dish towel, Riley ambled into the sunlit room from the kitchen. “You’re awake.” He smiled.