Beat of the Heart (4 page)

Rhys and I stepped off the fourth floor elevator of St. Joseph’s Hospital armed with gifts for Frank.

Although it felt like an eternity had passed, it had been just a week since Frank’s collapse at the

Oklahoma City concert. Once he had arrived at the hospital, he had received both good and bad news.

He would need a bypass, but his condition was stable enough for him to return home for the surgery.

With a nurse at his side, he’d flown home the next day to meet his sons at the airport.

As for the guys and me, we felt like shit doing it, but we had to keep up with the next few stops on

the tour. Frank’s oldest son, Rob, kept us updated on his condition during the surgery and while he

was in CCU. Fortunately, we had two days off in a row where his second family, the band, could

come back home to check on him.

“Which room is it again?” I asked.

Flipping out his phone, Rhys scrolled through his messages. “405.”

I glanced at the sign across from the elevator doors, reading off the room numbers. “Okay, it’s that

way,” I replied, pointing to the left.

When we got to 405, I rapped lightly on the door. “Come in,” Frank called.

I poked my head in the door. “Hello, hello. You gotta little room for two wickedly handsome and

charming men?”

Frank’s face lit up. “Look who is here!” he exclaimed, pushing himself up in the bed.

Holding the door open for Rhys, we stepped inside. The room could have doubled for a florists

with all the
Get Well Soon
flowers and balloons. I knew Abby and Lily had gone a little overboard

on sending daily reminders to Frank about how much he was loved and missed.

I stepped over to the bed. “Hey old man, how you holding up?” I questioned, leaning over to hug

Frank’s neck.

Wagging a finger at me, he replied, “Almost good enough to smack you upside the head for calling

me ‘old man’!”

I chuckled as I pulled away. “You look a helluva lot better than the last time we saw you.”

“I know. I feel a lot better too.”

Rhys stepped forward to hug Frank. “Bray, Lily, and Abby are coming by to see you in a little

while, but Jake…” Rhys grimaced.

Frank smiled knowingly. “I understand. He’s gun-shy between what happened with Abby’s attack

and poor Susan’s illness. It’s only been six months, so it makes total sense that hospitals and illness

spook him.” He waved his IV-clad hand dismissively. “Besides, he doesn’t need to come by and see

me. Hell, he called Rob three or four times a day when I was in the CCU, and I’ve talked to him

several times.”

My brows rose in surprise. “Really?”

“Yep.”

“He didn’t tell us that,” Rhys replied.

“He probably didn’t tell you that he put me on three months paid leave either, did he?”

Rhys and I exchanged a glance before shaking our heads in unison.

Frank smiled. “He wants me to rest completely and be in the best shape possible to take my old job

back.”

“Jackass coulda told us all this,” I grumbled.

“You know Jake well enough by now not to assume that.”

“True.”

Frank sniffed the air appreciatively while a curious grin spread on his lips. “Is that the Varsity I

smell?”

Rhys laughed. “It sure as hell is. We figured they were starving you to death with shitty hospital

food, so AJ and I decided to get you some of your favorites.” Digging in the bag, Rhys produced the

Varsity’s familiar red box with a football player on the front.

Closing his eyes in bliss, Frank said, “Chili dogs, fries, and onion rings, right?”

“Oh yeah.” Taking the box from Rhys, I added with my best French accent, “And for the Pièce de

résistance—a fried peach pie.”

I set the food box on the standard hospital table in front of Frank. He lifted the lid and inhaled the

deliciously greasy aroma. “Mmm, mmm, you boys are amazing.”

Holding up a finger, I said, “Ah, but we’re not done yet. Show him, Rhys.”

He nodded before his hand disappeared into the bag. “Your favorite drink—a Frosted Orange.”

“We kept it in a cooler so it wouldn’t melt,” I added.

Frank shook his head with a grin. “You two thought of everything.”

“Beats flowers, doesn’t it?” I questioned.

“Sure as hell does.” A look of shame flickered on his face. “But don’t tell Abby and Lily that I said

that. For some reason, those two gals think a gruff, old widower like myself needs daily flowers and

balloons. Not even my daughters-in-law do that shit.”

Rhys and I laughed. “It’ll be our little secret,” I replied.

As Frank went to work devouring a chili dog, Rhys jumped up on the ledge in front of the window,

swinging his legs back and forth, while I plopped down into the heinously uncomfortable chair next to

Frank’s bed. We were just shooting the shit on all that had happened while he had been gone when the

door swung open. Immediately, I got a swift kick in the pants of the most delicious kind. A tall, dark-

haired, dark-eyed goddess of a nurse strode into the room. Through her standard blue scrubs, I

detected she possessed every attribute that gave me instant wood—wide, curvy hips, thick thighs, a

voluptuous ass, and a full, natural rack.

“Oh shit!” Frank exclaimed. His panicked gaze swept right and then left, as if he were trying to

think of a speedy getaway. I couldn’t imagine from the way his Angel of Mercy nurse looked, not to

mention her genuinely caring expression, that she could possibly be worthy of such fear. He was

acting like she was Nurse Ratched out of
One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest
or something.

She only smiled at his reaction. “Now Mr. Patterson, that’s not your usual greeting. You’re always

so happy to see me.”

“I can see why,” Rhys muttered under his breath.

“No shit,” I replied.

“Er, uh…I’m sorry, Mia.” Frank gave her a reassuring smile. “I promise I’m very grateful for the

care you have been giving me. It’s just, well, you kinda took me by surprise. That’s all.”

“I’m glad to hear you approve of my care, and I’m sorry if I gave you a shock. I’ll be more careful

since that isn’t good for your ticker.” Her gaze flicked over to Rhys and me. “You must be Frank’s

grandsons. He said you were coming in from out of town.”

Frank chuckled. “Actually, those knuckleheads are my bosses.”

Mia’s dark brows popped up in surprise. “Really?”

With a nod, Frank said, “Yep, that’s AJ Resendiz and Rhys McGowan.” He gazed over at us.

“Boys, this is the most amazing nurse any man could ever hope for, Mia Martinelli.”

“You’re such a flatterer, Mr. Patterson,” Mia replied, before giving Rhys and me a wave. “Oh

wait, now I remember. You’re the guys my nursing partner was telling me about. The ones in the

band.”

Pursing my lips into my signature smirk, I replied, “Well, we’re not just in
any
band. We’re in

Runaway Train.”

“I’m sorry, but I hadn’t heard of you before,” she replied, appearing genuinely apologetic.

Ouch. That statement was a different kick in the pants. I couldn’t remember the last time a chick

hadn’t instantly recognized us or at least been utterly star-struck by being in our presence. I leaned

forward in my chair. “Maybe you’ll give us a listen?”

She smiled. “Of course I will. It’s not every day I come into contact with a Grammy nominated

band.”

“Thank you,” Rhys replied, giving Mia his own seductive smile. I fought the urge to knock it off his

face.

“Maybe you could sign something for me?” she suggested.

My gaze honed in on her breasts, and I knew exactly where I wanted to sign. “Sure, I’d love to.”

Mia cleared her throat, and I snapped my gaze to hers. The expression on her face told me she

knew exactly where my one-track mind had gone. “Actually, would it be too much to ask for a CD or

—”Mia sniffed the air suspiciously. Her dark eyes bulged at the sight of the opened Varsity

containers in front of Frank. “Mr. Patterson, please tell me that just three days after you underwent a

triple bypass that I am hallucinating the artery clogging food in front of you?”

Frank’s face turned the color of an overripe tomato at her admonishment. “Maybe,” he replied

weakly.

Crossing her arms over her ample cleavage, Mia shook her head back and forth so fast I figured she

would get whiplash. “How many times have we been over your diet since you were discharged from

CCU?”

Cowering a little, Frank replied, “Several.”

“I’m so disappointed in you,” Mia admonished. Her wrathful gaze turned on Rhys and me. “Since

this food didn’t materialize out of thin air, I suppose you two are to blame?”

“We just wanted to bring him his favorite food,” Rhys replied.

Mia’s eyes narrowed. “He just had by-pass surgery! He can’t eat stuff like this.”

I shrugged. “We didn’t know that.”

“Did you leave your brain in your guitar case?”

“I play the drums,” I corrected.

“Whatever,” Mia snapped. She grabbed Frank’s box of chili dogs and fries and slammed them into

the trash. “I suppose you would think it was a good idea to take a bottle of champagne to someone just

discharged from rehab, huh?” She started to swipe the drink off as well, but it bounced off the trash

can lid and landed straight into my lap. Busting on impact, the ice-cold orange soda coated my crotch,

stinging like tiny daggers over my skin. “Fuck!” I shouted, leaping to my feet.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” Mia apologized.

What happened next could only be expressed as something out of a warped fantasy. With a wad of

napkins in hand, Mia dropped to her knees before me—my dick eye-level with her gorgeous face. She

began furiously toweling off the front of my jeans. It took all of two seconds for the visual, along with

her ministrations, to have me at half-mast.

“Umm,” I began.

“Sorry, but this will stain if we don’t get it off.”

When I dared glancing over at Rhys, his hand covered his mouth, smothering the laughter that

caused his whole body to shake. Frank wore an expression of amused horror. Okay, so Florence

Nightingale couldn’t take a hint. I guess I was going to have to make it as plain as I could. Leaning

over, I whispered into Mia’s ear. “Cariño, as much as it kills me to ask you to stop this rubdown, if

you don’t, you’re going to make another mess to clean up.
Inside
my pants.”

She jerked her head up and stared into my eyes. I watched as the realization of my words, along

with what she had been doing, washed over her. My breath hitched as I waited for the usual signs of

extreme mortification to follow—reddened cheeks, stammering speech, avoiding making eye contact.

All the things that would make it easy for me to move in for the kill.

But I got none of those. Oh no, not from this chick.

Instead, Mia rose up and smacked the soggy napkins against my chest. As I fumbled to grasp them,

she replied, “I’m so terribly sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” She then proceeded to give me

a sickeningly, sweet smile—one that reminded me of Abby right before she gave one of us a verbal

smack-down. When she edged closer to me, I knew I was in for it and then some. She cocked one

brown brow. “How terribly embarrassing and inconvenient it must be for you to have such a

sensitivity problem down there. I mean, chicks expect a night of passion with Mr. Latin Lover, and