Honeymoon for One (7 page)

“It doesn’t take an expert to recognize the signs of a kid who’s high. Besides the lack of alcohol on her breath, the fact her speech is clear, and her hands are steady—which lots of kids can drink and fake that—her eyes aren’t bloodshot, and her pupils aren’t dilated. While Visine can hide the red, there wasn’t time to use any. Bottom line, you can’t fake pupil dilation. She hasn’t taken anything.”

Michelle stepped away. Could he be right? Her mind thought back. Were Corrie’s eyes clear? She hadn’t even thought to look at the pupils. She’d been ready to accuse her sister out of fear of making the same mistake so many deluded parents made. “You’re sure?”

He nodded.

Damn.
“In that case, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Miss Bradford?” A young nurse in pink stopped beside Michelle.

“Yes?”

“We’re ready to take Corinne to X-ray.”

“Can I come with her?”

“If you’d like. It won’t take long.”

“Thank you. Can you tell me how the rest of the kids are?”

“I’m not permitted to give details but—”

A sobbing woman stepped out of a nearby cubicle. Practically held up by the man beside her, the woman was inconsolable.

Michelle didn’t recognize the woman but that didn’t mean anything. Had Corrie been wrong? Had one of the kids been seriously injured or... “Oh, God. Did something happen to one of Corrie’s friends?”

“Oh, no,” another nurse said, her tone soft and reassuring. “The passengers riding with your sister are all fine. Minor injuries. Nothing to worry about. But the other driver wasn’t as lucky.”

“Other?”

The young woman shook her head. “Driver was DOA. Nothing we could do for him.”

Michelle gasped and Kirk moved closer. She’d done a good job of putting up a strong front, but he’d been watching her closely since she’d gotten word of the accident, and he could see the little pieces of her shield crumbling away. His arm slid around her waist, his fingers holding her steady beside him. It felt so natural, so right. He wanted to protect her from more bad news. To make all the unpleasantness go away.

Hand still over her mouth, Michelle hadn’t spoken. He could almost hear the questions running through her mind, see her struggling with which one to ask first.

She’d railed him pretty good for butting in before, but at the moment he didn’t care. “Are there any other victims?”

“No, thank God.” The nurse clutched a clipboard closer to her breast. “It’s a miracle there weren’t more serious injuries. If that young man hadn’t reacted quickly, well, I can’t tell you the horrors I’ve seen from head-on collisions.”

“Young man?” Michelle asked, her voice barely audible.

“Yes. I overheard him tell the police, he noticed the other car driving erratically just before jumping the median. He was able to swerve out of the way in the nick of time. The two cars bumped briefly causing his car to flip.” She sighed. “It could have been so much worse.”

“Do they know why the man was out of control?” Kirk asked.

The nurse nodded. “Heart attack. He was clutching his nitroglycerin pills when the EMTs pulled him from the wreckage. Didn’t have a chance to take them.”

At that moment, an orderly approached pushing Corrie in a wheelchair. Her eyes took in the two of them standing side by side in the middle of the hall, then settled on his hand around her sister’s waist. Michelle couldn’t have jumped out of his hold any faster if she’d been blasted with a fire hose.

She grabbed her sister’s good hand and turned to him. “Thank you for everything. We’ll be fine now. I’m sure I won’t have a problem getting a ride home.”

He recognized a brush-off when he heard one, especially one as lame as this one. But that didn’t mean he had to cooperate. “It’s no problem. I’ll wait down here for you to get back from X-ray.”

Apparently he and half the town had the same idea. Forty minutes later the ER waiting room looked like a packed auditorium. Friends and relatives of all sizes and ages gathered in clusters throughout the large room and down the halls.

Corrie’s wrist was only sprained. The rest of the kids got away with scrapes and bruises. As each teen was released, a wave of relieved bystanders filed out of the building.

In a brief phone call while Michelle and Corrie were in X-ray, Kirk had updated Pam, convincing her and some other coworkers it wasn’t necessary to come to the hospital. He would stay to drive Michelle and her sister home.

Michelle stood at the nurses’ counter signing release papers. Just as she signed the last page, a nurse wheeled Corrie through the double doors, into the lobby, and stopped beside him. The way the kid looked at him, anyone would think somehow all of this had been his fault. When Michelle joined them, her expression mirrored that of her younger sister, and for the first time, he wondered what the hell was he doing here?

Why hadn’t he gone back to the office and let someone else sit around waiting to drive them home? A blind fool could see he wasn’t welcome. So why had he insisted? Why had he pushed so hard to stay, to help?

Forcing a gallant smile, he pulled his keys from his pocket and waved an arm toward the exit. “I’ll go ahead and bring the car to the door.” He didn’t wait for a response. At a fast clip, he was almost running by the time he reached his car. The new question seemed to be: why was he in an all-crazed hurry? Did he desperately want to get away from Michelle Bradford or to be back by her side?

Good God, what was he doing?

***

“I’m really sorry. I swear nothing like this will ever happen again.” Corrie looked sideways over her shoulder at her sister.

If only Michelle could believe her. First the lying about an all-night party and now forging her signature on a permission slip. She didn’t dare think what would be next. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Corrie rubbed her good hand gently over the injured wrist a few seconds, and then looked up at her sister again. “How much later before you tell me why your new hunky boss was wrapped all over you in there?”

“He was not wrapped all over me. He was merely being supportive. It wasn’t easy learning my only sister had been in an accident and brought to the hospital with no idea if you were alive or…” The word caught in her throat. “Dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I hope you remember that the next time you get a harebrained idea to sneak around.”

Her boss’s rental pulled to the curb in front of them. If anything more needed to be said, it would have to wait. She just had to hang on to her last nerve long enough to make it home. And then, that man would be gone, her sister would be tucked away safely in bed, and she could slowly, calmly, and completely fall apart.

A few minutes later Lloyd McEntire parked in their driveway, skirted around to the passenger side, and offered his hand to help Corrie out of the car. From the sour expression on Corrie’s face, Michelle thought for sure he would be on the receiving end of a teenage lecture on how a sprained wrist did not impede her ability to stand and walk.

Instead Corrie offered a half smile and a meek, “Thanks.”

"My pleasure. I'm always willing to help a lady in distress. Especially when her older sister has grounding privileges." Kirk winked and stepped aside to let Corrie pass.

Awkwardness bloomed around them. Michelle knew the polite thing to do was to invite the man inside the house. Extend her appreciation for all he’d done. Except, now that the panic and fear had subsided, having him close only reminded her of things she didn’t want to think about. Didn’t want to feel. Too many times in the last few hours, glimpses of the thoughtful and caring Kirk she’d known on the ship eclipsed Lloyd McEntire, the hard cold businessman. No, she couldn't handle any more of this man. Not today. “We appreciate all you’ve done, but—”

“You should stay for dinner." Corrie cut her sister off, beaming as though she'd announced she'd found a cure for cancer. "It's the least we can offer in exchange for having spent so many hours waiting for us at the hospital."

Michelle thought she might pass out on the spot. What was her sister doing? The last thing she wanted was to have this man
in
her house. She was already on sensory overload. Her emotions were holding together by a very thin strand threatening to snap at any moment. She’d come within inches of losing the only family she had. Her best friend in the world, who she’d been dying to call since the first moment she’d been left alone in the X-ray department, was off living the perfect life she was supposed to be living. And now her sister had casually invited the one man who could send her totally over the edge, literally and figuratively, to stay and torture her for the duration of an entire meal.

“Someone just shoot me now,” she mumbled.

“Huh?” Corrie, standing closest to Michelle, turned to look at her. “What did you say?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea now. You need to rest.”

“And I really should get back to work.”

Relief washed over her. She needn't have worried he'd want to stay. Work-obsessed Lloyd McEntire didn’t take breaks, let alone stop for dinner.

“Yes, of course.” Michelle nodded. “Thank you again.”

“Yeah, thanks for not letting my sister freak. I really appreciate it, Mr.—”

“McEntire,” Michelle provided. “Mr. Lloyd McEntire.”

Extending his hand to her kid sister, he smiled. “Call me Kirk.”

***

"Thanks for calling.”

Beth slammed down the phone and shot across the room so fast Steven thought for sure the house was on fire. "What’s wrong?”

“There’s been an accident. Five kids were taken to County Hospital.” She opened the hall closet and pulled out a jacket.

Steven hesitated a moment; he didn’t get the connection. “Where are you going?”

“To the hospital. Michelle must be frantic.” She reached for the keys she kept in the bowl by the entry.

Then it hit him. A fist of emotion squeezed his heart. “Corrie?”

Beth nodded and had the front door open with one foot on the porch before Steven could reach her and pull her back inside. “Stop and take a breath.”

“I have to go. She's probably all alone.” Beth turned away from him.

Steven tightened his hold on his wife. “No. Think about this a minute. Michelle won’t take your phone calls. She practically threw me out of her office. Do you really think showing up at the hospital is going to make her feel any better?”

Beth took a long breath and sagged against the open doorway. “No, I suppose not.”

***

Michelle stared dumbfounded at the man in front of her. Did he have no conscience at all?

“Isn’t Kirk an odd nickname for Lloyd?” Corrie asked.

“I suppose it would be, but it works for Kirkland.”

The teenager’s forehead wrinkled like a Shar-Pei puppy’s. “Kirkland?”

Kirk flashed the first real smile Michelle had seen since his arrival in Bluffview, the one that made her heart flutter like a butterfly. With an exaggerated wave of his arm, he bowed at the waist. “Lloyd Kirkland McEntire Jr. at your service.”

“Bummer.”

“Corrie!” Michelle finally managed to process the conversation.

“Well think about it.” Corrie momentarily pressed her lips together and shot her sister that you’re-so-dumb glare. If she’d had two good arms, she probably would have crossed them and tapped her toes while she gave her not-so-bright older sister a chance to catch on. “First his parents saddle him with the name Lloyd, and then they tack on a Jr. to boot. Total bummer.”

A familiar rumble of laughter met Michelle’s ears. Not only was Kirk not annoyed by her sister’s comment but an amused twinkle shone bright in his eyes.

“Total bummer,” he agreed, still flashing a brilliant smile.

Michelle turned to Kirk, her voice so soft it came out in a near whisper. “Is that really your name?”

“Excuse me?” he asked, his grin slipping.

“Kirk. Is that really your name?”

His eyes turned dark, questioning. For a moment she thought she saw a flash of anger before an emotionless curtain descended. “Only to my friends.”

She didn’t know which way to turn, which rock to crawl under. She’d assumed the worst of him. That he had intentionally made up a phony name on the ship to deceive her. And worse, now he knew that, too. “We’d be pleased if you’d reconsider. I have a stew slow cooking in the Crock-Pot.”

“No. Thank you. I really need to get back to work.”

“But you have to eat.” Corrie leaned against him, lowered her voice, and mumbled something that brought the laughter back to his eyes.

He glanced up at Michelle, then nodded. “Okay, but I can’t stay long. There’s a lonesome desk calling my name from across town.”

***

What the hell was he doing here?

Stacks of reports still had to be sifted through, analyzed, and interpreted. He had enough numbers left to crunch to fill a major league stadium. With only twenty-four hours in a day, he didn’t need to be wasting even one of them sitting in a kitchen with an employee and her teenage sister. Even if the kid did make him want to laugh out loud.
Besides you can’t leave me alone with Siszilla. She’ll probably freak out again the minute you drive away
. Siszilla. The kid was probably onto something. No doubt some TV exec will have had the same idea for next season’s new guaranteed smash-hit reality show.

He glanced across the table to where Michelle was slicing a loaf of warm bread. She might be a bit hard on the kid, but he didn’t think that qualified her for the title of Siszilla. Then again, what did he know about families?

“Corrie, set the table. In the dining room.”

A potato chip midway to her mouth, the kid froze. “The dining room?”

“Yes, the dining room.” Michelle didn’t hesitate or glance up. Clearly she expected her instructions to be followed with no further questions.

To her credit, Corrie barely hesitated before pushing her chair back and stepping over to the counter. She pulled three plates from an upper cupboard, then opened a drawer and set a small pile of silverware atop the stack of dishes, turned to grab a handful of paper napkins from another shelf and then paused.

“Let me.” He shot up from his seat at the kitchen table. In half a step he was at her side and scooped up the dinnerware with both hands. “Which way?”

“That way.” Corrie pointed across the room, her good arm straight out.

“Thank you.” Michelle sighed. “I didn’t think.”

“No problem.” He followed the teenager into the other room and set the dishes on the table. “I gather you don’t eat in the dining room that often.”