Go For It Page 5

  “Great. Let me go check on it.”

  When she’d left the room, he drained the rest of the water from the glass and put it back on the tray. He should try to call his brothers but no one at the hospital could locate his cell phone.

  They’d cut his clothes off of him but the nurse had rescued his wallet. How quickly life could change.

  Thomas just got a new number after his ex-girlfriend turned into a psycho stalker bitch and for the life of him Greg couldn’t remember Ronny’s number. Aside from his father, whose number hadn’t changed since Greg had lived at home, he knew JJ’s. But she was on the west coast with her fiancé.

  Maybe Gretchen had their number. If not, he’d call JJ and get them from her.

  He settled back against the pillows and closed his eyes again, too worn out to worry about it right now. Since the accident twenty four hours ago, sleep had been fitful and filled with nightmares. The nap on Gretchen’s couch had been the first uninterrupted, somewhat peaceful slumber since. But he needed more.

  JJ would get in touch with everyone. Right now he just wanted to rest and try to get the sounds of the crash to stop playing through his head like a disturbing song locked on repeat. Finding a way to sooth the pain in his leg, shoulder and chest would also be a welcome relief.

  Hopefully the pain pill would do the trick. It wasn’t long, a few minutes maybe, before he started to smell tomatoes and basil. How long had it been since he’d had vegetable soup? Probably before his mom had died.

  “Here we go.” Gretchen’s voice pulled him back from a time when JJ’s mother had cared for him as if he were her own flesh and blood. He opened his eyes and struggled to sit up but the pain in his chest was blinding and he sucked in a sharp breath.

  Gretchen sighed softly.

  “Hold on there, tough guy.” The sweet, soft humor in her voice stopped him from struggling and somehow soothed his tension.

  She sat a tray of food on the ottoman and then turned back to him. As she’d done before, she silently offered him her arm and he was able to pull himself into a sitting position without crying like a little girl. Once she’d added a few extra pillows to keep him upright she handed him a bowl of steaming soup. There was a green drizzle across the top. She must have noticed him studying it.

  “That’s pesto. I got the idea from a local cafe. It really ties all the flavors together.” She turned back to the tray. “And here’s an adult version of grilled cheese. Havarti on a French baguette.”

  She placed the slice of cheese covered toast on a napkin and then balanced it on his right thigh. The innocent action sent a flush of heat through him. Well at least some parts of him were uninjured.

  Oblivious to the war going on inside him, she pushed a pillow aside and curled into the corner of the opposing sofa.

  “Unfortunately, you don’t get any of this delicious wine. Doctor’s orders,” she said with a soft smile.

  He’d always appreciated her sense of humor. It was subtle, just like the rest of her, which he realized was actually an attractive quality in a woman.

  They ate in silence. Her, with a magazine in her lap and a slice of cheesie bread on the arm of the sofa. And him, trying to think about anything but the woman across from him and stop noticing all the little details he’d never seen before. But as soon as he forced himself away from that topic more dangerous, painful thoughts rushed forward to claim the space in his mind.

  “Do you mind if we turn on the TV?” he asked, nodding toward the corner armoire unit.

  “Not at all. I’ll even let you man the remote.”

  He flipped on one of the home and garden channels and tried to lose himself in a kitchen renovation. But every time he looked away from the screen, he saw Gretchen’s home and couldn’t help but think how cozy it was. Casual and elegant at the same time.

  “It boggles my mind that people can spend one hundred thousand on a kitchen reno,” she murmured during a commercial break. She took another bite of her bread and continued leafing through the magazine. He got the impression that this was how she ate many of her meals, curled up on the couch, attention divided between food, magazine and TV.

  “Some of the appliances can really set you back. And if they’re using an exotic wood or hand painted tile...”

  “I guess it just amazes me because I paid less than that for this whole house. I mean, obviously, I had to fix it up and stuff, but that’s just a kitchen.” She nodded toward the TV.

  He could see her point. The design on the screen had the same elements most kitchens had: stove, sink, counter space, refrigerator. Everything one needed to cook dinner. But that’s where the similarities ended.

  The TV kitchen had two dishwashers, a warming oven, double ovens, a wine cooler and yards of beautiful Carrrara marble.

  “How many pairs of shoes do you have?” he asked before finishing off his soup.

  She looked up from her magazine and pinned him with keen eyes. Her mouth twisted into a half smile. “Touché.”

  “We all have our priorities.”

  “Would you have a kitchen like that?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at the designer space.

  “If I had the money? Sure. I wouldn’t use it much, but I’d admire the craftsmanship.”

  “If you wouldn’t use it much, why go to all the trouble and expense?”

  “How many pairs of shoes can you wear at a time?”

  “Okay, I get it. Your fancy kitchen is like a pair of Donna Karans.”

  She was rather cute when she sulked.

  “But I get my shoes on clearance. I don’t even start looking until they’re sixty percent off.”

  “Frugal and a great cook,” he mused.

  “What a catch, right?” She made a silly face, tossed the magazine aside and put her empty bowl on the tray. She didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Are you still hungry? Want anything for dessert? I may or may not have cookies, depending on how nice you are to me.”

  He smiled at the teasing tone. Gosh, it’d been a long time since he’d felt so…at ease. And he was smiling. Hours ago, he wouldn’t have imagined that was possible so soon. But, he quickly realized, Gretchen Mascoe was her own special blend of medicine.

  “What if I tell you that I’ve never had a better bowl of vegetable soup?”

  “That might get you a cookie.”

  “It was the best bowl of soup I’ve ever eaten.”

  Her left eyebrow quirked up. “That’ll get you two cookies.”

  “Your take on the grilled cheese sandwich…” He nodded in appreciation and gave her two thumbs up.

  “Oh, going for three, I see,” she said as she gathered up his bowl.

  When she’d disappeared into the kitchen he called out “and that was the best glass of water ever.”

  “Don’t push your luck, Fairchild.”

  He laughed and winced at the pain in his ribs.

  “No laughing,” he whispered under his breath. Luckily, grinning didn’t hurt nearly as much.

  They’d just revealed the dream kitchen when Gretchen returned with a small plate of cookies.

  “I’ll admit, it is a lovely kitchen,” she said, staring over at the TV. “I could probably fit six dozen cookies into those ovens, easy.”

  “I like the way you think.”

  They watched another decorating show, this time about curb appeal, while they ate dessert. Gretchen could scarcely believe he was here. Eating with her and laying on her couch.

  “The hospital didn’t give you my cell phone did they? I should—call my brothers.” He shifted, wincing and she felt a resonating pain inside.

  “No.”

  They sat there in a silence for a few moments, staring at each other. He was probably thinking the same thing she was; he’d lost it during the accident. But she wasn’t about to say that out loud and remind him of the trauma he’d experienced.

  “They gave me your wallet and keys though. If you want, I can call JJ and get their numbers.” He seemed to be fading
fast.

  “That’d be great. I wish I could remember their numbers but…”

  “If it’s not in my speed dial, I’d never call anyone.” She popped the last bite of cookie into her mouth.

  After several long moments, JJ’s voicemail picked up. “Hey. Can you text me Thomas and Ronny’s number when you get this? Thanks.”

  Greg muttered something under his breath.

  “So here’s what I think we should do. I’ve got a guest room. You need to get some sleep. Tomorrow we can re-evaluate. Sound like a plan?”

  He stared at her so long she grew uneasy.

  “Sounds like an excellent plan.”

  “All right. Let me go change the sheets and I’ll be right back.”

  “You don’t have to go to all that trouble.”

  She raised an eyebrow and hooked a hand over her hip. “What kind of hostess would I be if I let you sleep on dirty sheets? My grandma would roll over in her grave.” Her mother on the other hand wouldn’t care one way or the other about sheets unless it would help her snag a man.

  “We wouldn’t want to disturb grandma,” he said softly.

  Since the bed in her room was a queen and the daybed in her guest room, which doubled as her office, was a twin, she changed the sheets on her bed. He’d be more comfortable there.

  When that was done, she looked around the room for anything too personal. She liked to keep things fairly minimal, but she tucked the framed picture of her, Annie, her mom and grandmother into her sock drawer. It had been a rarity, having everyone together and one of Gretchen’s best memories.

  Once the room was tidy, she gathered a change of clothes, her night gown, robe and slippers and deposited the lot on the guest bed.

  Greg was drifting off when she came back into the living room.

  “Greg,” she said softly but he didn’t rouse. Lower lip between her teeth, she put her hand on his shoulder and said his name again. This time he woke and blinked up at her.

  “Your bed’s ready.”

  There was a moment of complete silence as he stared up at her and she wondered again if this was all some crazy dream. If she was, in actuality, lying on her sofa after a hard day’s work, dreaming the evening away...

  But her hand was still against his shoulder, soaking in the heat of him. He was very real. And very injured. Remember the injured part, Gretchen.

  “Want some help?” she asked as she moved the ottoman away, giving him room to maneuver. He reached for her hand.

  Once he was standing she led the way down the hall to her bedroom, letting him lean on her when he needed to. But the pain medication seemed to be working.

  “This is your room,” he uttered at the threshold.

  “It’s got the bigger bed. You’ll be more comfortable here. And I’ll be just down the hall if you need anything.”

  She got the feeling he wanted to protest more, so she stepped across the room and flicked on the lamp. “Bathroom’s down the hall. There are clean towels in the holder over the toilet. Make yourself at home.”

  When she turned back to him her heart failed her. He was right out of her dreams. Tall, handsome, and crowding her. But she was his friend and that was that.

  “If there’s anything you need, just call out.” She just hoped she’d hear him. She had no idea if she was a light sleeper or not.

  He stepped further into the room, giving her an escape route. “Thank you, for everything.”

  His eyes were kind and tired. She smiled.

  “You’re welcome. Good night.”

  She rushed down the hall, shut the door behind her and leaned against it. Talk about the ultimate temptation. It was as if cupid himself was pulling the strings of her life right now. She couldn’t have dreamed up a scenario that would put Greg more squarely in her path, or remind her just how perfect he was for her. Sure, he was a little grouchy today but that could be forgiven. He was also gorgeous and kind. So easy to get along with, never had a cross word to say about anyone, and he was good with his hands. Not having a father around while she was growing up, she’d always been attracted to men who could fix things. Like the slow drip-drip-drip of her bathroom faucet.

  She really wanted to take a bath and wash the day’s grime off, but didn’t want to keep him awake, so she changed into her jammies. After taking care of business and brushing her teeth and hair, she went back to the guest room and sat down at her little desk. She really needed a bigger space now that her business was picking up, but she had to work with what she had.

  After turning on her iMac, she scanned through her order list. Three of the designs were ready to ship so she went to the closet where she kept all of her supplies and finished products. Graphic design was more than a passion, it was her ticket out of teaching other people’s children.

  The job had once seemed so wonderful but between a shotty curriculum, spoiled parents and the ever so constant reminder that she still didn’t have kids of her own…no. She needed to own it.

  She’d known that curriculums changed and she would be teaching the prima donnas of Atlanta when she’d taken the job. The vice grip slowly wrenching her heart day after day all came down to one fact. She wanted to be a mother.

  Teaching was a job, a paycheck whereas children of her own, a family…she gulped back years’ worth of disappointments. Wrong guy, right guy who was about to move to Hong Kong, another wrong guy, followed by Greg. Or maybe it’d always been Greg; the right guy who’d never been available. Until now.

  She sighed. This little business of hers was also her way of gathering a safety net.

  Once she had packaged the completed orders, she checked her email. After replying to one question about her hourly rate, she started customizing the design of one of her notepads. The brightly colored pads sold well online since people loved getting something with their name and initial on it. Since all she had to do was hit a few buttons to customize the whole design, she made good money from limited additional effort.

  Even though it had been along day, she worked steadily on designs until after midnight. When she was too tired to work anymore she curled up in the daybed and read a few pages of a book on marketing. If she was going to be a success, she needed to expand her business. She needed more orders and definitely licensing of her designs. Custom work would also help, but that was harder for her to come by. She spent so much time working her day job, hanging out with friends and family and fulfilling orders, she didn’t know when she was going to drum up clients needing brochures and branding.

  But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t find the time and make it work. She’d learned at a young age if she wanted something, she had to make it happen. It was up to her, just as her Grandpa had said. No one else was going to hand her her dream.

  Despite her mom’s flighty ways, Gretchen had gotten a college scholarship, landed a job at a good school and started a side business. She had made something of her life.

  If only she could do the same in her relationships.

  CHAPTER SIX

  California

  Finally en route to the fundraiser, JJ made a concerted effort to leave her worries behind. Greg was in good hands. She forced herself to relax against the seat in the back of the limo and smiled when Trevor laced his fingers with hers.

  His strong, warm hand was more than just a romantic gesture, it was her safety net. Her life preserver. She loved knowing that they kept each other sane and calm. Like tonight. The hot shower and slow preparation together had been just the thing to take her mind off Georgia and wondering where her father was, not to mention Thomas and Ronny. Surely they had phones on the slopes even if there was limited cell coverage. JJ knew for a fact that text messages could reach the most barren of locations.

  Thanks to an update from Gretchen, JJ was finally able to put her mind back where it should be, raising money for confused souls like Stephanie Cole.

  Every time JJ thought of Trevor’s former stalker, she wondered if something couldn’t have been done to help t
he woman. In her heart she wanted to believe that treatments or drugs or therapy could have prevented everything. Stephanie’s brother Carson, Trevor’s former best friend, insisted they’d sought treatment but whatever they’d done hadn’t worked. She’d still become infatuated with Trevor to the point of stalking him and threatening his mother. In a fit of what JJ had to assume was some kind of unbalance, Stephanie had wrecked a car with Trevor in the passenger’s seat rather than let another woman have him.

  JJ couldn’t pretend that she didn’t wish Stephanie had gotten more help. The woman’s illness had destroyed lives.

  “Stop thinking about it,” Trevor murmured, his big fingers tightening around her knuckles.

  “I was thinking about Stephanie,” she whispered back.

  She didn’t know why she whispered. They shared the back of the limo with Joe, their bodyguard, but he knew everything, the whole horrible story. He’d lived it with Trevor. Joe had protected him until a few days before the accident when Trevor thought that the stalker had moved on. She hadn’t; she’d simply gone quiet.

  But somehow, whispering her name made JJ feel like she wasn’t resurrecting a ghost.

  “That’s long over.”

  “I know.” She knew there was no way to change the past but wanted to make sure she learned something from it.

  “So when are you going to marry me?”

  JJ’s head whipped around so fast she felt a tendon stretch.

  “What?” She didn’t mean for the word to sound as screechy as it did.

  “I was thinking May, at the house.”

  “You really want to discuss this now?”

  They’d been engaged for roughly two months, living together for a little longer than that. One part of her wanted to be Trevor’s wife as soon as possible and the other part simply didn’t care about the timetable. They were happy as they were; at least she thought they were.