Counting On It (Hearts for Ransom Book 1) (20 page)

“I couldn’t believe when you stole second
and
third in that game against the Pacers last year.” Brody’s words hadn’t fazed Butch. He was really a fan, too, because Logan himself would be hard pressed to remember plays made during a specific game, and he was a member of the team.

Brody, resignation in his eyes, smiled at the big man. “What would you like me to sign?”

A feather would have knocked Logan, and he knew for sure, Brody, over when Butch pulled out a folded snapshot of Brody in uniform. It was a picture of him sliding into base.

“You guys don’t have cards, so I kind of made my own. I can’t keep all of ‘em in my wallet, but I keep yours there.” Butch grinned. “Would you sign it?”

Brody, astonishment in his eyes, accepted the picture and pen Butch was holding out. He braced the photo on Abby’s back and scrawled his signature before handing it back to Butch. The giant reverently examined it before he pulled out his wallet and slid it in. Troy had retrieved the ink pen.

Emily had watched the entire incident and hoped that Brody wasn’t so upset that he regretted coming. She had no idea that Butch even knew who either Logan or Brody was, let alone that he was this big of a fan. “I’m sorry,” she silently mouthed as soon as she caught Brody’s eyes. Amazement still visible on his face, he smiled and shrugged. It seemed that the man was as easy going as Logan claimed.

“Emily,” a warm female voice said from behind her. She turned to find Dr. Lysart and her husband Rich standing there.

“Hello, Dr. Lysart.” She was one of Emily’s favorite doctors.

“And if I remember correctly, you’re Lincoln…”

“Logan Taylor,” Emily corrected her. It was a wonder she had even come close with as many patients as she saw each day.

“Yes. Logan.” Dr. Lysart graced them with her glowing smile. Instead of her ash blonde hair being pulled into a bun, it was hanging loose, softly curled. Her blue-green eyes twinkled as she smiled. “How is your mother?”

“She has an appointment at your office this coming Friday,” he told her. “I think her caregiver will be able to get her there. Your staff was very understanding about Mom’s condition when I called. The woman I talked to told me there’s a side door and small waiting area they can use.”

“That’s correct,” the doctor told him. “I’ll leave instructions, though, for your mother to be shown directly to an examination room. People sometimes walk through the side waiting area.”

That could have been a disaster. “Thank you,” he told her sincerely.

She turned to the man next to her. “This is my husband, Rich.” He shook hands with Logan. “Rich, you remember my favorite nurses from the hospital – Emily Scott, Debbie Boone, Butch Dagon, and Willow Simpson?” She indicated each one of them as she named them. After he nodded and smiled at each one of them, she added, “They’re with their significant others.”

“Naomi, Director Nevins would like to have a word with you,” Dr. Foster politely interrupted.

“If you’ll all excuse me…” The doctor and her husband followed Dr. Foster.

The small group of people resumed their conversation. Butch, appearing to be over his initial excitement about meeting Brody, turned out to be a masterful storyteller, having them all in stitches.

“I picked up a patient at one of the nursing homes to bring him back to the hospital for some x-rays. The chart they handed me had the name ‘Elwood Johnson’ on it.” Everybody listened attentively. “I go into the room the nurse tells me he’s in. Two men are sittin’ in wheelchairs watchin’ TV. I ask them which one was Mr. Johnson. One of them told me he was, so I told him he needed to come with me for some tests. He was a nice old guy—I didn’t have any trouble getting him to the hospital and to radiology. Once we’re there, the technician tells me there’s just one problem. The man wasn’t Mr. Johnson. I asked him why he told me he was, and he insisted it was true. It took a good hour to get it straightened out. Do you know what the problem was? His father’s name was John Richards, so he was John’s son.”

“That did not happen,” Emily accused him as they all started laughing.

Butch moved his fingers across his chest. “Cross my heart.” He frowned at her. “You know I always get the kooks.”

That was true, but he also liked to make people laugh.

Emily decided she and Logan needed to make the rounds. She was feeling a little…strange.

She soon found herself laughing a little too enthusiastically about the new puppy one of the women in admissions had just gotten.

“Logan?” He wondered why she had put her mouth so close to his ear, and then spoken so loudly. What was wrong with her?

“What?” he asked in a much quieter voice, searching her eyes, which were unfocused.

“I shouldn’t have had that last glass of wine.” She spoke in a slightly softer voice. Then she hiccupped.

He looked at her strangely. “Are you drunk, Emily?”

She held her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “I think juss a little.”

He hadn’t paid attention to how many drinks she accepted from the servers mingling with the crowd, replacing empty glasses with full ones, but he didn’t think it had been more than a couple.

She grinned at him. “You’re really hot. Didja know that? I think you’ve got the sexiestest body in the whole wide world!”

Emily was wobbling. “I think you’re schnockered.” He quickly moved her farther away from the small group of people they had been talking to—ones she had introduced as office staff and their spouses. “Let’s find Brody and Abby.”

“Less find a bed.” She tilted her head and tried to kiss him.

He put his hand on her shoulder and righted her. “Come on, Em. We’ve got to get you out of here before you embarrass yourself in front of all these people.” She couldn’t have drunk that much wine. His eyes scanned the room, searching for their friends.

Just when he thought he was going to have to call a taxi, he spotted them. The problem was, they were clear across the room. He had no idea how he was going to get an inebriated and very amorous Emily across the room and back, without her doing something that embarrassed both of them. She had given up on his lips and turned her attention toward his nether regions. He finally noticed a group of chairs off to the side. Nobody was around them. He’d just get her to sit on one of those until he could get Brody and Abby so they could leave.

After unwrapping her arms from around his neck several times, and gently removing her hand from his fly, he left her sitting—a little off center—while he went to talk to his friend.

Emily was lonely. And she wanted Logan. She really
wanted
Logan.

“Emily, is that you?”

Who was that? “Paul Finley…”

“Findley. Did you already forget me?” He sat in the chair next to hers.

“Have you seen Logan? I want him to take me to bed, but he’s making me wait.” Her voice sounded strange.

“How much have you had to drink?” he gently asked.

She held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart, then spread them farther. “Thiss mush.”

He chuckled. “Is Logan here?”

She looked around her, focusing on the empty chair. “I don’t see him.” She hiccupped. “Do you?”

“Where did Logan go?” Why was he smiling at her like that? She
wanted
Logan, and she was tired of waiting.

“Didja know he doesn bleve I love him. I have to wait sree—three more moths—months before he’ll bleve I love him. I want him to take me to bed
now
. He’s really sexy, Paul. Didja know that?” Maybe he’d understand and help her plead her case when Logan got back. Where had he gone anyway? He’d better not have gone off with Mandy Little. Maybe he had. He was tired of waiting, too, so he snuck off with her, and they were in a broom closet having wild monkey sex. He’d left her there while he went off to have sex with Mandy Little. She began to cry.

“What’s wrong, Emily?” Paul asked, concern in his voice.

“Logan iss in the closet having wild monkeee sex with the hossspital floozy.” She started to sob.

Paul sighed with what appeared to be relief. “Logan’s coming, Emily. He’s not very far away.”

Brody and Abby had gone out to get the car while Logan went to collect Emily. He was unhappy to find Paul Findley sitting next to her. They had dated—at least once—when she was mad at Logan. What was he doing? What was
she
doing?

“Why is she crying, Findley?” he demanded, as he knelt in front of Emily.

“You leff me here while you had wild monkeee sex with Mandy Liddle.” She answered him between sobs.

“Emily, I did not. I told you I was going to get Brody and Abby so we could leave.” How could she have drunk that much wine without him noticing, and why had it seemed to take effect so suddenly?

“You won’t haf wild monkeee sex with me, so you went to the broom closet and had it with her.” She evidently wasn’t listening to reason. He really didn’t want Paul Findley listening to her ramblings, either.

Maybe Paul felt as uncomfortable with the situation as Logan did because he quickly excused himself and left.

“Emily, you’ve got to stop crying. I love you, and you know it. Now, let’s get outside and see if Brody and Abby have the car.” He tried to speak firmly, but it was hard to see her crying for any reason—no matter how absurd it was.

She suddenly burst into laughter. “We’ll haf wild monkeee sex in the car.” She sure was fixated on wild monkey sex. Where had she picked that one up? He never planned on having sex with her. He was going to
make love
to her—when the time was right. There was certainly no use explaining that to her now, though.

“Can you walk?” He helped her stand and led her the short distance to the front door. Thankfully, nobody seemed to notice her intoxicated stumbling. There was her hand, back on his fly. “Stop it, Emily.” He firmly took her hand and pulled it away.

“Okay.” She surprised him by agreeing. “We’ll wait until we’re in the car.”

He almost hoped she passed out in the car. Otherwise, it was going to be a thirty-minute ride with an amorous octopus.

It was. She finally conked out, just as they pulled up to her house.

“I don’t understand it, Abby.” He was extricating himself from her grasping hands, now slack. “She couldn’t have had that much to drink.”

Abby started to get out of the car. “I don’t know.” She froze and turned to look at Logan. “You don’t think she’d taken one of her nerve pills, do you?”

“Nerve pills?” He didn’t know anything about Emily being on medication.

Abby looked guilty. “I don’t think she wanted you to know because you’d worry. She’s started having occasional panic attacks. If she knows she’ll be exposed to something that’s going to make her nervous, or remind her too much of her parents, she can take her medication ahead of time to keep from having one. Her parents never missed the fundraiser.” Her brows furrowed with concern. “Do you think she’s okay? If she mixed her medication with alcohol, I mean?”

Logan quickly checked Emily’s pulse and breathing. It seemed normal to him, except for an occasional hiccup. “Maybe we’d better call the pharmacy’s twenty-four-hour hotline just to make sure.”

He got out and walked around to where Brody had opened the door. Logan pulled Emily’s keys out of his pocket and handed them to Abby. “If you’ll get the door open, I’ll carry her in.”

Abby easily located the correct key and was unlocking the door as Logan leaned into the car over Emily. He maneuvered them both and gently lifted her. It reminded him of the night after she’d found out about her parents. Aaron had called and told him that Emily kept saying she wanted him. It was when he first saw her lying there, heartbroken, that he knew, for then and for always, she was the woman he was meant to love.

His mind raced as he carried her in and laid her on her bed. Abby went into the bathroom and found the prescription bottle before she called the hotline. She’d need to tell them exactly what Emily had taken before they could provide accurate information.

He pulled her shoes off and kicked his own off, too. After he had removed all but his pants and shirt, he lay down beside her and pulled her limp body against him. Panic attacks. Why hadn’t she told him? Had she thought he wouldn’t love her anymore? That he couldn’t deal with two women who had issues? He’d have to convince her that nothing could ever change the way he felt about her.

He must have drifted off because the next thing he knew, Abby was shaking his shoulder.

“They said she’s going to have one whopper of a hangover tomorrow, but she’s on a low enough dose she’ll be okay.” A tear ran down her face. “If she’d have been taking a stronger pill, she could have ended up in a coma—or worse.”

Brody, who Logan’s sleep-hazed mind hadn’t noticed, put his arms around Abby. “She didn’t though, sweetheart. She’s going to be okay.”

“He said she shouldn’t be left alone tonight in case she gets sick.” She shuddered. “She could choke on her own…I’ll spend the night with her.”

Logan shook his head. “I’m fine right here. You go ahead and go home. I’ll call you if anything happens and we need you. I promise.”

Abby’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure?”