Fortune's Cinderella (18 page)

“I wasn’t supposed to miss him, dammit!”

Gumbo wagged his head in slow motion, his big old ears flapping, followed by the God, again? eyeroll.

So she might have expressed the sentiment a time or six over the past couple of days. But if the turkey’s plan had been to get her so used to having him around she’d feel downright lost when he wasn’t, it was working.

Dammit.

The cocoa made, she clomped back to the living room and eased herself onto the sofa, the wind’s melancholy moan outside doing nothing to boost her mood. Gumbo hopped up to lay his head on her lap, offering sympathy for about ten seconds before he passed out again.

Of course, she supposed there was always the possibility that, once back home, Scott would come to his senses and realize this whole thing with her and wanting to buy a whole ranch, for heaven’s sake, had been about as real as Oz had been to Dorothy.

Except she’d caught the look on his face when he’d shown her the property, like he’d seen heaven. So she was going to take that as a “no.” Especially since Scott didn’t strike her as the kind of man given to being fickle.

And every time he looked at her…oh, dear Lord, she got tingles thinking about it—

“No!” she said, loudly enough to wake the dog. Sensing her distress, Gumbo gave her a worried look and several slobbery kisses, doing his level best to make it better. On the table beside her, her phone buzzed—an incoming text. At two in the morning?

She snatched up her cell, getting all tingly again at the sight of Scott’s picture, a stealth one she’d taken when they’d been at the ranch.

Pathetic, thy name is Christina.

Can’t sleep. Missing u.

Christina stared at the message for the longest time. She didn’t have to answer. Really. After all, it wasn’t like he expected her to.

Or anything.

U do realize, she typed, is middle of night?

Gumbo? That u?

See, it was stuff like that, that had her all balled up and confused and, okay, fine, wanting him so bad she could hardly see straight. The goofy stuff, the unexpected stuff. The stuff that made her laugh even as she rolled her eyes harder than the dog.

Smirking, she texted back, Yeah. But, dang, is hard 2 txt w nose.

Seconds later the phone rang. With a mix of excitement and dread, she answered. “Hello—?”

“Oh. I was expecting Gumbo.”

The grin popped out before she could catch it. “Oh, shoot, was he texting again? I really wish he wouldn’t do that, I keep getting these random texts from some poodle named Snooki.” So sue her, it was two-freaking-thirty in the morning.

“Ah,” Scott said. “Too much eyeliner, enormous…” He paused. “Hair?”

“The very one, how’d you know?”

“I can smell the cheap perfume from here. Tell Gumbo he needs to watch out for those Jersey bitches—they’ll eat him alive.”

Christina burst out laughing. “That’s terrible.”

“But true. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stick with the local gals.”

“Clearly your experience with Texas gals is limited.”

“Also true,” Scott said, the smile in his voice making her toes curl. “But a situation I look forward to remedying as soon as possible.”

“Um…we’re not talking about Gumbo’s love life anymore, are we?”

“Nope.”

Her face burning, she hauled herself to her feet and hobbled into the kitchen to rinse out her mug. “So…how’d it go with your dad?”

“You could at least try to be subtle.”

“Subtle is for weenies. So?”

Scott sighed. “I said my piece, he fumed and ranted and refused to accept my resignation, but no blood was shed so I’m counting it a success. He’s also convinced I’m out of my mind, of course, but then, so is everyone else.”

“And that doesn’t at least give you pause?”

“What everyone else thinks? Why should it? I’m done seeking other people’s approval, Christina. And I cannot tell you how freeing that is. Which reminds me…my Realtor called, the owner accepted my offer, so we can go to closing next week.”

Back in bed, she froze in the middle of tugging up the covers. “Oh. Wow. So…fast?”

“Great, huh? Anyway, I’m taking an extra day or two here to tie up some loose ends, pack up my personal things from the condo, put the place on the market. But I have a surprise for you.”

“O-oh?”

“You remember the resort we passed on the way home from the hospital? There’s a gift certificate for you and a guest waiting at the front desk, for a full day of pampering.”

“Scott…no. I mean, that’s very sweet, but you’ve done so much for me already—”

“And I’m going to keep doing things for you, so deal. Get some sleep now, and I’ll see you when I get back to Red Rock.

Okay?”

“Okay,” she said, heaving a great sigh as she set her phone on her nightstand. Okay? Not even remotely.

Which undoubtedly made her the most reluctant Cinderella in history.

“Frankly,” Wendy said as she settled her enormous self into the chaise next to Christina’s in the spa’s luxurious sunroom, “I don’t know whether to kiss you or my brother for thinking of this. I haven’t been able to see my feet since November, let alone paint my toenails. So this is heaven.”

At one with a chaise so comfortable Christina almost wouldn’t have minded dying in it, she had to agree. Unlike Enid, who’d turned down Christina’s invitation with an impassioned declaration that the very idea of people she didn’t know from Eve touching her half-naked body was at the very least unseemly, if not downright repulsive. Not that Christina didn’t have to fight the giggles while trying to select from the long list of scrub/wrap/massage options that sounded more like lunch than treatments. But once the skilled staff began their ministrations…ohmigosh, she was a goner within a minute flat.

Besides the massages—they even had special accommodations for Wendy’s pregnant belly—they’d had facials and mani-pedis, although Christina had had to forgo the “pedi” part of that for obvious reasons. Now, wrapped in plush white robes, they lounged by the kidney-shaped indoor pool, shaded by a veritable forest of trees and shrubs happily thriving in the sunlight-flooded room. Lunch would follow, the magical day ending with Christina’s first professional haircut in…years.

So maybe she could get used to this.

She settled back in the chair and closed her eyes, the gurgling of an unseen fountain mingling with Mozart or somebody in the background. “Marcos doesn’t mind?”

Wendy had hinted that her husband had some issues with not being able to keep Wendy in the manner to which she was accustomed. Even though Wendy had assured him that having her own home and a husband who adored her far outweighed the frills she’d willingly given up.

“That he gets a very happy wife at the end of the day? Not a bit. So…I suppose you know Scott’s found his ranch?”

So much for relaxed. Opening her eyes, Christina faced her new friend. “Yes. But tell me something, since you know him a lot better than I do—do you think he’s making the right choice?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

Christina looked down at her lap. “It seems so…fast.”

Opening the neck of her robe a bit, Wendy sagged back in her chair and tossed Christina her trademark disarming smile. “It’s the Fortune impulsive streak. Like our own personal fault lines, long overdue for some major shifting.” The smile widened. “Except for me, who’s been shifting constantly since I was born, much to my parents’ dismay. I’m guessing Scott’s has finally worked its way to the surface. You mark my words, though, the others will follow. And sooner rather than later, if my hunch is correct.”

“I’m confused—so you do think Scott’s being impulsive?”

“For once in his life, yes. But that’s not a bad thing, considering that my siblings’ usual modus operandi is to think everything to death before they make a decision, and then only if it’s one guaranteed not to ruffle feathers. If you ask me, it’s about time Scott—

and everyone else—started thinking with their hearts. Doing what feels right instead of what they think is right.”

“But what if that impulse isn’t right? Because there’s a lot to be said for thinking through something as important as changing your entire life.”

“Oops.” Scott’s sister reached across the space dividing them and touched Christina’s wrist. “This isn’t about his buying the ranch, is it?”

“Oh, Wendy…” Her forehead pinched, Christina met Wendy’s amused gaze. She wanted to believe in new beginnings, in taking chances, she really did. But for every thought that came, encouraging her forward, ten more rushed in to remind her of the risks.

“What on earth does he see in me? We have virtually nothing in common—”

“Neither do Marcos and I. On the surface. And yet I’ve never felt this comfortable with anyone in my whole life. Christina…this may be a stretch, but I’m going to guess my brother sees what I see—besides the whole cute-as-all-get-out thing you’ve got going, I mean. That you’re fun to be with and bighearted and good with a capital G. If you’ve got those basics down, the rest will follow.”

“Meaning he sees me as a diamond in the rough.”

“No, I meant that if those core values mesh, nothing else means squat.” Wendy frowned. “Do you really think Scott sees you as someone he can mold into whatever image he wants you to be?”

“It had occurred to me.”

“That’s not Scott, Christina. And if that’s what he’d wanted, believe me, there were plenty of women only too willing to turn themselves inside out to please him.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“Yes. It is. Because he didn’t want any of them. He wants you. Exactly as you are.”

“So you’re saying I should cancel the hair appointment?”

Wendy laughed. “No way. We always have the right to re-create our own image.” Then she sobered. “Look, it’s not my place to tell you what to do, or what you should think. But I love my brother, and it’s pretty clear he’s very, very serious about you. If you feel the same way, then why not simply roll with it?”

With that, Wendy leaned back and closed her eyes as if it was all solved, leaving Christina to think, Why not, indeed?

With a jolt that sent a renewed thrill of anticipation through him, Scott’s commercial flight touched down in San Antonio, on a clear, mild day that hinted of spring. Marcos met him at the airport, looking marginally more relaxed than the last time Scott had seen him. Then again, that could be sheer exhaustion.

“Hate to ask…but how are things going?” he asked as he shouldered his carry-on bag and fell in step with Marcos through the concourse.

“Javier’s still hanging in there, the restaurant’s still standing and your sister and I are still married,” Wendy’s husband said with a tired smile. “So I’m counting my blessings. But since we’re already in the city, do you mind if we swing by the hospital?”

Scott checked his watch. “I’m closing on the ranch at four, so that’s two hours yet. Plenty of time.”

“Then it’s a done deal?”

“All but the signing. And the check.”

Grinning, Marcos clapped him lightly on the back. “I’m glad. And Wendy will be beside herself. She doesn’t complain—too much—but I know she misses her family.”

They arrived at the hospital twenty minutes later, running into Dr. Cuthbert, the neurologist Dr. Rhodes had praised so highly, as she emerged from Javier’s room. The tall, graying brunette shook hands with Marcos before steering them back to the nurses’

station.

“I just got off the phone with your father. But I’ll tell you what I told him, that Javier’s making enough progress to start bringing him out of the coma within a week or so. And no,” she said, her expression kind, “we have no idea what to expect. How, exactly, the brain works remains very much a mystery, and every patient’s experience is different. He may well be disoriented at first, or even angry that he can’t remember what happened. This is going to require great patience on everyone’s part.”

Marcos nodded, then pushed out a breath. “And…his legs?”

“His orthopedist can explain everything in more detail, but from what we can tell the broken bones are healing very well. But there was a lot of muscle damage, and Javier will have been immobile for nearly a month.” The doctor paused. “He may have to relearn how to walk.”

When Marcos softly swore, Scott frowned at the doctor. “Dr. Rhodes said your rehab facility is good?”

“A lot better than good, Mr. Fortune. One of the best in the country. In fact…Leah?” She called out to a slender young woman in bright blue scrubs chugging past, her long auburn hair caught back in a ponytail. She turned, pale brows lifted in a makeup-free face.

“I’d like to introduce you to Leah Roberts, the rehab nurse who’ll most likely be assigned to Javier’s case. Leah, this is Javier’s brother, Marcos. And Marcos’s brother-in-law, Scott Fortune.”

“Oh!” Closing the space between them, Leah tucked her clipboard under her arm to shake Marcos’s hand, then Scott’s, her grip firm and confident. As was her smile. “I saw your brother earlier today,” she said to Marcos. “Along with the rest of his team. We’ve been discussing various options for his rehabilitation once he’s brought out of the coma.”

“How long…?”

Leah clasped the clipboard to her chest. “That will depend on your brother,” she said gently. “But he’s got youth and health in his favor.” Then her smile flashed into a full-out grin. “Not to mention an enormous support system, from what all the nurses up here tell me. That counts for a great deal.” Her pager buzzed. “Shoot, I’m so sorry,” she said, apology flooding her hazel eyes as she backed away to punch the elevator button. “I’m already late for my next appointment. But they’ve got your number on file, right? So I’m sure we’ll be in touch.”

The doctor made her excuses as well, leaving Scott and Marcos free to see Javier. Thanks to an MP3 player with speakers, classical guitar music greeted them when they entered—one of Javier’s favorite musical genres, Scott already knew. Although the obligatory heart and blood pressure monitors were doing their thing, as well as the ever-present IV, for all intents and purposes Javier simply looked asleep, if thinner than Scott remembered.

“Hey, man,” Marcos said softly, twining his fingers around his brother’s and launching into a funny, upbeat monologue about something that had happened in the restaurant the other day. As heavily as his brother’s condition must have been weighing on the younger man’s heart, clearly he was determined not to let it show.