Changing Lanes (The Lone Stars Book 3) (8 page)

His eyes went to Laney who was walking toward them with her phone at her ear.

“That’s her working face. She turns off emotion to deal with her patients. Something must be wrong at the hospital.” Nina nodded. “Coping mechanism.”

“Her father.” January took a bite of her banana. “I’m pretty sure she learned it from him. Dr. Nixon, the elder, is an acquired taste.”

“I’ll just go and make sure everything is okay.” He rose. Laney’s face was blank, gone was the mischievous smile and all trace of her good humor.

She stopped about twenty feet away, turned away from them, and leaned against the tree talking quietly into her phone.

He put a hand on her shoulder and she flinched. She turned around, forced a smile, and held up one finger to give her a moment.

“Let’s draw the labs again. Maybe yesterday’s numbers were just a fluke.” Her face may be blank, but her voice was hopeful. “I don’t understand why her levels would fluctuate that much in a matter of days.”

She nodded to whatever the other person on the phone had just said. “I agree. That’s the best course of treatment at the moment. Thanks, Jake.” She checked her wristwatch. “I’ll be at the hospital in a couple of hours and I’ll check in on her.”

She nodded again to whatever was being said.

“Thanks again. I’ll talk to you later.” She hung up.

“Trouble at work?” Devon wanted to help in any way that he could.

Her fake smile got wider. “It’s nothing.”

He could tell by her tone, that she wasn’t going to talk about it. Clearly, something was bothering her, but her friends were right. She compartmentalized and right now she wasn’t at work so she wouldn’t talk about it.

She tucked her phone in the little zippered pocket in the back of her running shorts. “No doubt in my absence, my friends have given you the run down on me and interrogated you about your personal life.”

“They love you. I’m sure my friends will do the same when you meet them. God knows my mother is waiting to tell embarrassing stories about me. When she launches into the one about me driving across the border into Mexico—it’s mostly a lie.

Laney’s smile turned genuine, and then her shoulders relaxed against his hand. He could all but see her lock away the professional side of herself and pick up the off–duty version from a few minutes ago. “Mostly?”

“Okay—it maybe more truth than lie, but I’d rather you not know the real me until I know you like me back.” He replayed what he’d just said. “That sounded so much better in my mind.” He should drop his hand, but he needed to touch her.

A bell dinged behind them and Devon turned around to find that the chef had placed four plates of food out to the side of the burner.

“If you’re willing to forget about Mexico, I’ll willing to serve your food.” Devon grinned. “You look awfully hungry.”

She laughed. “What happens in Mexico stays in Mexico.”

He guessed that she’d successfully made the transition from doctor back to just plain old Laney. Why couldn’t she mix the two?

“What’s the most reckless thing you’ve ever done?” Her eyes were bright.

Had he missed something? “I don’t understand.”

“Reckless. What’s the most reckless thing you’ve ever done?” She pegged him with her Caribbean blue eyes.

“Why?” He wasn’t sure where she was going with this.

“I’ve never toilet papered a house, mooned anyone, or ding–dong ditched.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve never done anything reckless.”

At first he thought she was kidding. How had anyone gotten through high school without toilet papering someone’s yard? Hell, his friend Clint and his schoolteacher wife Summer got hit at least once a semester. Well, until he and Clint had devised a little plan that involved motion–censored sprinklers on the roof. Anyone who tried to paint that yard white got a serious soaking.

Maybe all her questions last night really had been for informational purposes. More than anything he’d ever wanted, he’d wanted to spend the night with her. But sex was just sex and he wanted more from her and from himself.

“Reckless, let me see.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek thinking. “You’re going to have to be more specific—reckless physically, reckless emotionally, reckless stupid—I’ve done so many things I regret that it’s hard to choose just one.”

“See that’s what I’m talking about. I turn thirty tomorrow and I have no regrets.” She shook her head. “It’s pathetic.”

“You could moon me right now, and I’ll pretend to be shocked.” He shaded his eyes with his hand as he scanned the area. “I see some condos over there. We could ding–dong ditch.”

“That’s a nice thought, but those aren’t condos, that an Alzheimer’s Care Unit. Ding–dong ditching people who won’t remember seems kind of pointless.”

“I see your point.” He took her hand and slowly led her back to the table. “But I’m totally up for the mooning. I am here for you.”

The bell dinged again. Devon glanced over. Mike waved with his spatula to come get the food.

“Let’s put your recklessness on hold. Breakfast is ready, and Mike needs my help.” He led her back to the table, pulled the chair out for her, and turned to the ladies. “Don’t say anything else embarrassing about Laney … until I come back. I’m your server today.”

He walked to the table, placed the food on his arm diner–waiter style, and brought it to the table. He hesitated and then placed the food randomly in front of the women. After they all traded plates getting what they’d ordered, they settled in to eating.

Today, he’d learned some interesting things about Laney. First she didn’t think of herself as reckless, but he remembered her being so daring at camp. Not cavalier, but willing to try anything and everything. Maybe that wasn’t recklessness so much as curiosity, but still. This uptight version she saw herself as today wasn’t the person he used to know or even how he saw her now.

Second, she used to wear her heart on her sleeve. This grown–up ability to turn off her emotions probably helped her in her professional life, but he hadn’t remembered her doing that all those years ago. Back then, she’d been an open book and her face had shown whatever she was feeling. It’s not that he didn’t like the new Laney, he just wanted to understand her—get to know her all over again. And every once and a while, he caught a glimpse of that sweet, curious sixteen–year–old.

Chapter 6

At six o’clock that evening, Laney’s doorbell rang. “Damn it.”

She was still wearing her bathrobe, but at least her hair and makeup were finished. She unbelted the robe, slipped it off, and tossed it on her bed. She slid on some lacy black panties and a matching bra—an early birthday present from Nina—and grabbed her simple black cocktail dress. The doorbell bing–bonged again. Quickly, she pulled the dress over her head, smoothed it down, and yanked at the zipper.

The zipper tab broke off in her hand.

She shook her head. Could something go right, please? This was turning into the day from hell.

The doorbell bonged for a third time so she darted out of her room open dress flapping around her. She checked the peephole. Devon smiled in at her. She opened the door and was careful to use it to shield herself as much as possible.

Devon walked in holding a huge bouquet of flowers. He looked around taking in her condo. It was small and sparsely furnished. She didn’t spend much time here and wasn’t into decorating.

“These are for you.” He handed her the bouquet.

Flowers for her? They were frivolous and cliché and perfect. She’d never gotten flowers before. She took them and did the girly thing and brought them to her nose and inhaling deeply. The orange roses smelled wonderful and would really add a splash of color to her beige condo. Why hadn’t she thought to buy herself flowers before? They weren’t particularly expensive and they made her stupidly happy. She hadn’t bought them because they were frivolous and she’d been taught that frivolous was a waste of time.

Now she needed to put them in water, but she couldn’t turn around and walk to the kitchen because her dress was hanging open. Could she back to the kitchen?

For that matter, what would she put them in? She’d never owned a vase in her life. Vases didn’t have a function other than holding flowers and looking pretty…another frivolity. And Laney was all about the practical. Only now she was realizing that a little frivolity was a good thing. Well, tomorrow she was buying the stupidest, silliest, most un–practical vase she could find.

“Stop thinking so hard. They’re just flowers. You look like you’re working on some complex physics problem.” Devon leaned down and kissed her lightly on the nose. “You look pretty when you’re deep in thought, but you kind of look like you’re head’s going to explode... you know, in a good way.”

“Is there a good way for my head to explode?” The mental image was more than disturbing.

“Now, I can see that was a poor choice of words.” He nodded. “Sometimes when I try to be witty it turns around and bites me in the butt.” He grinned. “So what were you trying to puzzle out just now?”

“It’s just that.” She blew out a slow breath. “My zipper broke and so I was trying to figure out how to get to the kitchen to put these in water without flashing you.”

“Earlier you did express a desire to moon someone. As a friend, I’m here for you. I’m willing to take one for the team.” He put his hand over his heart. “That’s just how I roll.”

“Wow, Mother Teresa has some serious competition for Saintliest person. You’re just one step below Jesus when it comes to helping humanity.” Her mood was lifting. He had a way of breaking through her insecurities and making her laugh. She’d laughed more with him than she had in a long time. In fact, he always made her feel like she could be herself around him…insecurities, awkwardness, strange sense of humor, and all.

Better to get it over now. She turned around.

She hoped his quick intake of air was a good thing. “Can you help me out?”

After a minute or so, she glanced over her left shoulder. “Is the zipper completely broken? Can you zip it up?”

“Zipper?” Devon’s breathing was rapid and shallow. “What zipper?”

His eyes were on her backside.

“The zipper that starts five inches below my bottom.” If her hands weren’t full of flowers, she’d reach around and show him.

“Sorry, my eyeballs won’t move any lower than your underwear.” His eyebrows bounce up and down. “That is the tiniest black lace thong I have ever seen.”

“Come on. You’re a professional football player. You have a PhD in tiny lace underwear.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t wearing it.” He muttered under his breath.

“Can you hurry? I’m getting cold.” Air–conditioned air swirled down from the AC vent above her. Always the practical one. Just once couldn’t she prance around in nothing but her underwear and the air conditioner be damned. That was recklessness, at least in some small measure.

He ran a finger down her back, grabbed the zipper tab, and yanked. It made it midway up her back.

“Crap.” From behind her, Devon yanked hard enough for her to stumble backwards. “My cuff is stuck in the zipper.”

Hysterical laughter bubbled up and she bit her bottom lip trying to keep it from blasting out. Her shoulders shook. This was ridiculous and so not typical of her life that it was funny as hell. She would have doubled over, but she was hauling around a huge football player.

He yanked some more and … nothing. “I can’t get it out.”

She couldn’t contain it anymore. Laughter erupted out of her in a very unladylike snort. She’d never been a snort laugher before.

“Do I get to know what’s so funny?” He didn’t sound angry, just curious.

“It’s us. Whenever I’m around you, my life is so much more fun—sure it’s hell on my wardrobe, but I haven’t laughed his much in years.” Not since DJ. He’d always been able to make her laugh and they’d always gotten into the weirdest trouble. Like the night of the scavenger hunt. Neither one of them had any interest in scavenging for anything so they’d blown it off to go have some alone time by the lake. They’d taken the green paddleboat. Unfortunately it happened to have the final clue to the scavenger hunt written on the side, so when they’d paddled back to shore two hours later, there were lots of angry campers waiting for them.

“I am so sorry about last night’s dress and this one too.” There was way too much regret in his voice. He really thought this was his fault.

“Trust me, this is the most fun I’ve had all day.” Late patients at her office had put her behind for rounds at the hospital and then there was Lara Brooks. She was dying of Leukemia, and no matter what she threw at the disease it was still winning. Laney didn’t like to lose, especially when the stakes were so high. “Don’t force it. I don’t want you to rip your shirt.”

Laughter had been in short supply until he’d stepped into her condo.

“Let’s go into the kitchen. I have a pair of scissors.” They’d have to cut the dress off, and she didn’t have another to replace it. More than anything, she’d love to stay home tonight, order some take out, and watch a movie.

Like a couple of zipper–conjoined twins, they lumbered into the kitchen. She went to the drawer next to the sink, and pulled out the scissors.

“Did you just move in?” Devon looked around.

“No, I’ve lived here for almost four years.” She followed his gaze. Now that she noticed, the kitchen was a little barren. No kitchen table, no homey curtains on the window overlooking downtown Austin, and the only appliance on the counter was her espresso machine. “I don’t cook much or for that matter, spend much time here.”

Her life was at the hospital and training with her team. Both of those things didn’t leave much time for anything else. Why hadn’t she noticed how barren her home was until now?

“I can see that. There’s no ‘you’ in this condo.” There wasn’t any judgment in it, just a casual comment.

She’d never thought about it. She looked around. Everything was beige—it seemed to be her signature color. That added depression onto an already long day. Failure wasn’t her favorite state of being, and clearly she’d failed as a decorator.

With the scissors, she started at the hem and cut.