Sara's Song (2 page)

“Am I going to die?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

He said, “Not if I can help it.” And she laughed a little. He told her, “You just hang on to me…and everything will be fine.”

Relief washed over Clay at the sound of the sirens approaching, but he remained cool and collected, for her sake. She needed to remain calm, and not drift off into shock.

C
lay stood in front of his truck, staring in the direction where the ambulance had driven off. He hoped the girl would be okay. Maybe he’d go check on her later.

Troy Johnson, the rookie of the bunch, trudged up the hillside carrying a woman’s handbag. “Hey, Cap,” he said to Clay. “What do you want us to do with her purse?”

Clay waved him over and took the purse. “I’ll get it to her.” He looked at the bag, but didn’t open it. Instead, he looked back at Johnson. “Did you check her wallet for an emergency contact?”

Troy Johnson shook his head and slowly lowered his gaze, like he knew he’d screwed up.

“Don’t worry about it, Johnson.” Clay said with a carefree air to ease Johnson’s worries. “I’ll take care of it.”

Clay went around to the driver’s side of his truck, climbed in and began scanning the contents of Sara’s wallet to see if he could find emergency contact info.

Her name was Sara Renee Robbins. She owned an international driver’s license with an address in London. She was also in possession of a passport. Her contact information was for her parents—in Balcombe, United Kingdom.

Curious. Very curious indeed. What was Sara Renee Robbins, a Londoner, doing here in his little town of Fireside, California, tucked high in the hills of the Sierra Nevada? A place you needed to be looking for to find. People just didn’t stumble upon Fireside by accident.

CHAPTER 2

T
he next morning, Clay made the drive down to Fresno, where Sara Robbins had been transported to the hospital. He’d called yesterday, but they’d told him she’d be staying overnight for observation, and she’d probably be more coherent if he’d wait twenty-four hours before trying to see her.

For that reason, he’d opted not to reach out to her emergency contact. Her parents were, after all, in England, and realistically by the time they made it to Fireside, Sara would most likely be out of the hospital.

Nope. He’d leave the choice to contact her parents up to her.

Walking through the corridors of the hospital, Clay carried Sara’s purse inside a paper bag. He was secure in his manhood, but toting a woman’s purse around, especially in public, would test that.

He reached the room that had the name
Sara Robbins
on the plaque outside it. He paused, then tapped gently before opening the door.

Clay stepped into the room. The television was on, but with no volume. She was staring at it. Instantly, her eyes cut to him. She checked him out warily.

Wanting to put her at ease, Clay smiled, and was about to introduce himself, when she said, “You were at the accident site yesterday, weren’t you?”

“Yes.” He stepped closer to her bedside. “I found you. I arrived not long after it happened.”

She sucked in a breath and looked away from him. “You lied.”

“I lied…?”

She glanced back at him. “You said the deer was okay.”

He nodded. “Yes, I did. But in my defense, I was more worried about you than the deer.”

“They say you saved my life.” There was something new in her tone. Something that suggested she was grateful, yet unsure if she deserved the consideration.

“I’m just glad to see that you’re okay.” He shrugged, then remembered that he had her bag. “Oh, I have your purse. I thought you might need it.”

Her face relaxed at the mention of it. “Thank you.” She pushed herself up into a sitting position and reached for the bag. She pulled out her purse and hugged it. “My whole life is in here. Without it, I’d be sunk.”

“Glad I could help.”

She gave him a frightful look. “You didn’t call my parents, did you?”

He almost chuckled. “No.” He shook his head. “The hospital said you’d be okay. I thought it best to let you handle that.”

“Thank you, again.” She let her angst rumble out in a hint of laughter.

“I didn’t want to worry them needlessly.”

“And I don’t want them showing up here...needlessly.” She laughed a little, but he got the feeling that her parents showing up was the worst thing that could happen.

S
ara’s parents hadn’t wanted her to leave England in the first place. And she didn’t want them showing up now. Luckily, this guy— “What was your name again?” she asked.

“Clay.” His smile had a way of putting her at ease. “Clay Darlington.”

Darlington? Man, that sounded familiar. If her head didn’t hurt so badly, she might be able to figure it out. Maybe later. “Well, Clay Darlington, my name is—”

“Sara,” he said, cutting her off. Sara’s questioning face must’ve alerted him to her uncertainty over how he knew her name. Her purse. Of course. He’d probably gone through her wallet looking for emergency contact info. Thank God she’d replaced Kirk’s name with her parents’. That’s all she needed—somebody finding out she was once married to, and subsequently betrayed by the famous rock star.

“You told me your name at the accident site,” Clay said, bringing her back to the here and now.

“That’s right.” She nodded, appreciating the fact that he wasn’t throwing it in her face that he’d probably, most likely, gone through her wallet.

The door swung open and a nurse carrying a clipboard walked in smiling. “I have good news, Ms. Robbins.” She moved to Sara’s bedside. “Dr. Adams has signed your release papers. You’re free to go after I tie up the paperwork.”

“H-how long will that be?” Sara asked, weaker than she’d anticipated. She wasn’t sure where Fresno was, much less how she was going to get home.

“It shouldn’t take more than fifteen or twenty minutes,” the nurse said, retreating toward the door. “I’ll be back to take you down in a wheelchair as soon as everything’s settled.”

After the nurse left, Clay asked, “Is there someone I can call for you?”

Sara shrugged. “A taxi, apparently.” She should make it a point to make friends in Fireside. And where was she going to go to buy a new car? And how was she going to get there? “I’m new in town. I don’t really know anyone.”

“I’ll give you a ride back to Fireside,” he offered.

“I wouldn’t want to put you out,” she said, all the while hoping his offer was sincere. She could use the ride. Not that she couldn’t afford a taxi—thanks to Kirk’s money, which was now her money—but catching a ride with Clay seemed like a lot more fun. Him being her personal hero and all.

“In Fireside, we take care of our own.”

“I do appreciate the ride.” She nodded. “But I don’t really qualify as one of you. I’m new to Fireside.”

Clay sat down in the chair by her bed. “I’ve been meaning to ask you…how did you come to be in our little town? It’s not like we’re the talk of England.” He chuckled.

“A job. A photographer at the paper.” Sara shrugged, feeling a little helpless. “Which I’m probably going to lose because how can I take pictures with my bum shoulder in this sling.”

“Like I said, we take care of our own.” Clay gave her a reassuring nod. “I’m sure Harvey will understand.”

Harvey
? He was on first-name terms with her boss? Maybe soon to be ex-boss. “I sure hope so.” She bit into her bottom lip. “I really wanted that job.”

“It’ll be fine. You’ll see.” He said it like he really believed it. Sara wished she could.

But damn, she no longer had a car, and maybe not even a job.

This wasn’t the best way to start her life over.

CHAPTER 3

C
lay strolled into Ruby’s Diner right around seven the next morning and spotted Harvey Thompson sitting at the counter. Just the man he wanted to see. Harvey and his wife Mary Beth owned and operated the Fireside News, the town’s newspaper. Clay ambled up to the counter and claimed the empty seat next to Harvey.

“Clay,” Harvey said, then sipped his coffee.

“Harvey.” Clay propped his elbows on the counter. “How the hell are you?”

“Not bad. Not bad.” He set his cup down and turned to Clay. “You?”

“Pretty quiet. Not a lot going on.” He gave Jewel, the waitress, a smile as she turned over his coffee cup and filled it. “I pulled that photographer you hired out of her mangled car the other day.”

“Yeah.” Harvey’s interest perked up. “She called last night, said she’d been in a wreck.” He shrugged. “Said she needs a few days to recover before she can start.” Harvey turned to Clay. “She wasn’t hurt too bad, was she?”

Clay shook his head. “She’ll recover. It could’ve been worse.”

“Good. My wife likes her pictures.”

T
he worst part about getting a new car, for Sara anyway, was going to be learning to drive on the wrong side of the car, never mind the wrong side of the road. The perks, however, were being accompanied to the car dealership in Fresno by the incredibly handsome Clay Darlington, and spending Kirk’s money to buy herself a brand new Corvette. Sara was going American all the way.

It’d been a week since Sara had been released from the hospital. A few scratches that were practically healed already and a dislocated shoulder were the extent of the injuries she’d gotten from the rollover that destroyed her car. Sara was lucky, they’d said. She tended to agree.

Clay had graciously offered to drive her to a car dealership in Fresno, where he said she’d get the best deal.

On the drive in, Sara had wondered about Clay, trying to sneak a peek at his left hand, but always at a disadvantage to get a good look at his ring finger.

Clay was incredibly handsome. Dark hair, gray eyes, rugged good looks—exactly the opposite of Kirk Bronson. That was definitely a plus.

The fire and rescue uniform fit him like it’d been tailored-made for him. The t-shirt’s fabric molded over his biceps and clung to his chest. Damn, he was in good shape.

They cruised along Highway 49. Clay rested his forearm on the driver door window frame and steered with one hand, while making small-talk with her about the kind of car she wanted to buy.

Sara was surprised by the heat stirring in her belly just from listening to him talk.

C
lay found out that buying a car was incredibly simple when you were paying cash. Sara had bought herself a brand new Corvette, laying down a check for the full amount. She must’ve made good money as a photographer in England, and he had to wonder why she’d settle for the little more than peanuts that the Fireside Times could pay.

When he’d left her at the dealership, she’d joked about having to drive on the wrong side of the car now, in addition to the wrong side of the road. She laughed about it, but he got the feeling she was a little more than apprehensive about it. But her shoulder was better. “
Barely sore at all anymore,
” she’d said. He’d told her he was confident that she could make the drive.

Later that afternoon, he drove past the Sierra View Apartments, where Sara lived, just to make sure she’d made it home okay. Her car was in the parking lot. Bright blue, shiny, and new, and not a scratch on it.

Clay fought the urge to stop, and cruised on past, forcing himself to head back to town, to the firehouse.

T
hree days later, on Monday, Sara had gotten up extra early to prepare for her first day at work as a photographer for the Fireside Times.

On the drive into town she winced as she passed
the spot
. She could tell where it was because it was just after the Micki Darlington sign.

Micki Darlington. Could it be? Was she related, or God forbid, married to Clay? That thought left a nasty feeling settling heavily in Sara’s gut. She tried to push it aside with thoughts of food.

Since arriving in Fireside several weeks ago, Sara had dropped into Ruby’s Diner a few times. Everybody said it was the place for breakfast, so today she pulled into the parking lot at 7:10 AM, ready to join in the local tradition.

She cut the engine, grabbed her purse, and opened the car door. As she stepped out onto the gravel lot, she glanced up into the smoldering gray eyes of Clay Darlington.

“Clay...” Sara didn’t do a very good job of hiding her surprise or her delight at seeing him so unexpectedly.

“Morning, Sara.” He dazzled her with a smile that showed the slightest hint of dimples. “You’re adjusting to driving on the wrong side of the car, I see.” He chuckled and crossed his hands at his chest.

“Yeah...” She nodded, less than confident. “So far, so good.”

“You’ll be fine.” He said it like he believed it.

“Thanks to you.” She rolled her eyes, unable to believe she was acting so goofy. He was just a man, for Pete’s sake. Granted, a scrumptilicious man, but a man nonetheless, and in the end they were all nothing but trouble.

But damn, he was easy on the eyes. She glanced at his hands, his left one draped around his arm. No ring. But that didn’t mean anything. “So I was thinking...” she said, knowing she shouldn’t but she didn’t stop herself. “I really need to find some way to thank you for all you’ve done for me. How about I take you and your wife out to dinner?” She fished for information, ever so cleverly, she thought.

But he laughed. “I don’t have a wife.” Mischief sparkled in his eyes.

Okay, so Micki Darlington wasn’t his wife. She could be an ex, but Sara had better worry about the here and now at this point, and agonize over the past later. Sara supposed, “Girlfriend?”

He shook his head and showed his dimples again.

“Boyfriend?” she asked, turning the tables on him.

“Very funny.” His gray eyes narrowed. A hot flush crept up Sara’s neck and over her face. She glanced away. Clay cleared his throat, and said, “How about I pick you up tonight at 6:30? We’ll drive into Fresno and grab a bite.”

C
lay arrived at Sara’s place at 6:25 PM. He was prompt, something Kirk could never claim. Sara’s ex-husband would probably be late for his own funeral.

Clay walked her outside to a vintage red Corvette. Every bit the gentleman, he opened the passenger door for her. She basked in his attention as she slid down into the car’s bucket seat.