Hotblooded (9 page)

“No. Just that… There must be a reason—or a perceived idea,” he added quickly.

“There’s a reason all right,” she said bitterly. “Walter Worthington.”

Jack finally dropped her wrist and wiped a hand across his face, clearing his eyes of the rain. “Your father-in-law?”

She realized she shouldn’t be surprised that Jack knew who Walter was. Jack seemed to know far more than she wanted him to.

She wiped her cheek, hoping that he wouldn’t realize there were tears mingled with the raindrops. “I don’t want to talk about Walter.” She squared her shoulders. “I want to go home.”

“I’ll take you.”

“I’m going home to take a shower and then go to bed.”

“That’s fine. We can keep talking after you’ve showered and are more relaxed.” He started walking toward his truck. “Have you eaten?”

The word tenacious didn’t do him justice.

“Are you coming?” he asked when he realized she wasn’t following him

She let her head fall back, the raindrops refreshing on her face. She was exhausted, physically and mentally and it was suddenly overwhelming. This conversation needed to be over. Being vulnerable with Jack from weariness, and because he was an amazing kisser, was a bad idea. She didn’t want to say anything she might regret later. Better to do something—preferably something distracting—rather than confess something she couldn’t take back later.

She went for blunt—and, hopefully, diverting.

“Unless you’re planning to join me in the shower and bed, you’re not invited.”

He retraced his steps quickly, stopping directly in front of her. His voice dropped low. “After that kiss we just had, I wouldn’t say things like that unless you mean them.”

In spite of her knees going weak, she raised her chin, and hoped Jack wouldn’t notice that she swallowed hard. “And during the whole thing I don’t want to do any talking except the dirty kind.”

She could see the heat in his eyes even as he chuckled. “Only during? What about before? You know, to get things going?”

She felt her cheeks color slightly and knew that he noticed. It was a fun, if dangerous, game they were playing. But she was going to be the one to end it. If it went any further, and he did come home with her, she might as well go to Walter’s office and say,
you were totally right about me
.

“I’m going home. Alone,” she added, with a pointed frown at him.

“I’m not going to let you walk home, soaking wet, when I have a perfectly good, dry truck right here,” Jack said, letting his exasperation show.

“There’s no need to—”

“Enough.” He put up a hand. “End of argument. Get in the truck.”

“But I—”

“I’m not asking.”

“I just—”

He sighed, then stepped forward, bent at the waist, grabbed her hips and carried her up and over his shoulder as he stood.

“Jack!”

“I’m giving you a ride home.”

She didn’t even try to fight him. What was the point? He placed her unceremoniously in the passenger seat and slammed the truck door. She watched him with raised eyebrows as he slid in behind the wheel.

“Where to?” he asked.

She pointed ahead. “Up this street.”

He shifted into drive, but didn’t start forward. He turned to look at her. “Why won’t you let me give you anything?”

It was an abrupt shift in topic, but she knew what he was talking about. The stupid check.

“Why are you being so stubborn about it?” she returned.

“It’s important.”

She watched him in the dim lights from the dashboard. Finally she sighed. “It’s more important that I prove to them that I’m not what they think I am. I have to do this on my own. And I have to do it well.”

He said nothing as he drove slowly up the street.

“It’s right here,” she said, pointing to the gray brick ranch with the wide driveway and perfect lawn three doors down from where they’d been standing.

He looked from the house to her, then back. “This is your house?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” he finally said sheepishly.

She grinned but hid it quickly. She crossed her arms. “I told you there was no need to give me a ride.”

He shifted the truck into park in the driveway and turned, sliding his arm along the back of the seat. “I’ll remember that you’re the type to say I told you so.”

“Completely the type,” she agreed.

“Me too.”

She gave a little snort. “No kidding.”

His expression suddenly became solemn and she had the strange impression that he wanted to kiss her again. He didn’t give any specific indication of that, it was more just a feeling. She watched him take a long, deep breath.

“Goodnight, Brooke.”

She smiled softly. He wasn’t going to push anything, in spite of her earlier wantonness.

“’Night.”

She pulled on the door handle and slid from the high seat.

It was absurd how pleased she was that he waited and watched as she let herself into the house. The door swung open and she turned and gave him a little wave. Then she made herself go in rather than watching him drive away.

The shower in his room was hot, but that was about the only convenience the small bed and breakfast could offer that he needed at the moment. They took the breakfast part of their title seriously and offered only the one meal a day. Not even a vending machine.

Which was what took him back to the diner that had provided his lunch and dinner since he’d arrived in Honey Creek. Not that he minded, exactly. Vi, the owner and head chef, was a fantastic cook and had any number of hilarious stories. The menu was full of homemade meals and he could stay for a month without eating the same thing twice. Except for the hash browns. He could eat Vi’s hash browns every day.

“Hey, Jack, was wonderin’ when you were gonna git here,” Vi called out as he walked in.

“Hey, Vi.”

“Lasagna night.”

“Perfect.”

He took a seat at the front counter and gratefully accepted a glass of iced tea from Lila, the waitress that worked the dinner shift every night.

“That’s straight up, now,” she told him with a wink.

He saluted her. She’d already learned that he didn’t like sweet tea.

“Hey, Doc, heard you’re a bit of a hero.”

He swiveled on his stool to find Will Parson, one of the local ranchers standing behind him, grinning around the wad of chewing tobacco in his bottom lip. He’d met Will during his first meal in Honey Creek. People around here didn’t leave strangers strangers very long.

“Hero?” Jack repeated. “How’s that?”

“Heard about Amanda.” Will hooked a hand in the back pocket of his blue jeans. “Everybody heard.”

Jack wondered if the man was going to just spit his tobacco wad on the floor of the restaurant. “I was just doing my job, Will.”

“Oh, no, son,” another voice protested. A stout, gray-haired man stepped forward. He lacked the denim that was part of the typical dress code in Vi’s place. He wore khaki slacks and a dress shirt that looked as if it had been paired with a tie at some point in the day. He reached a hand toward Jack. Jack shook it as the man said, “I’m Amanda’s uncle Ben. Ben Cartwright. I told everyone what really happened.”

For Jack, emergency medical situations were a regular part of his day. He was surprised to find every eye in the restaurant—and there were several tonight—was suddenly on him.

“My family doesn’t know how to thank you for helping Amanda and her baby.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Cartwright. But as I said, that’s my job.”

“Where’re you from, son?” Will asked.

“San Antonio.”

Will and Ben looked at each other and then back at Jack in surprise. The rest of the café continued to be silent. “What brings you out here?”

Damn. In the spotlight and confronted with the one question he didn’t want to answer. “Brooke Donovan,” he finally said, opting for as much of the truth as possible.

That drew even wider-eyed stares. “Brooke?” Will repeated.

“That’s right.” Jack couldn’t put his finger on it, exactly, but he felt defensive. Thinking of Brooke’s comment that everyone hated her here he felt himself bristle.

“But…why?” Ben asked after a few seconds of stunned silence.

Jack squared himself up with the man. “What do you mean
why
?” As if it was so unbelievable that a man would drive a thousand miles for a woman like Brooke. She was gorgeous, smart, sassy and funny—when she let her guard down. She even had a sweet side. He hadn’t seen much of it but the glimpses he’d gotten made him want to see more.

Any man who knew his ass from his ankle wouldn’t think twice about driving across Texas to see Brooke.

“Why would you come all the way across Texas for Brooke Donovan… Unless…” Ben seemed to come to some kind of understanding without Jack’s input. “I see. You knew Brooke in San Antonio? Did you know her husband as well?”

Take it easy, Silver
, Jack reminded himself. Maybe he was just imagining the sinister tone. It would make sense that Jack was visiting if he had been a friend of Brooke’s and Mike’s from their time in San Antonio.

“Actually, I knew of her husband. I came out here to…” he thought fast and his mind landed on the one thing he had managed to do since coming, “…make a donation to a charity Brooke supported back in San Antonio.” He hadn’t meant to make the donation to the Mary Elizabeth Girls Home but he’d been more than happy about it once he’d Googled it. Brooke Donovan was full of surprises. She’d been listed on the website as one of the medical practitioners and volunteers. She was also listed as a major donor.

“A charity?” Ben looked at Will with obvious confusion. Jack was glad for the first time that all the attention was on him. They clearly didn’t know this very intriguing piece of information about her. “Brooke worked at the Girls Home in San Antonio. They give a home to pregnant girls who want to give birth to healthy babies and then put them up for adoption, but who don’t have the resources to take care of themselves properly or to find good homes.”

Jack watched Ben’s face carefully. The man went from puzzled to almost impressed. But then he swung toward the rear booth. “I didn’t know…” he started.

“She couldn’t get a job anywhere else,” a deep bass voice from that back booth interjected.

Jack turned toward the voice and saw a very tall, distinguished-looking man rise from the farthest table.

If Jack thought Ben’s clothing didn’t fit in Vi’s, this man definitely stuck out in a tailored dark gray suit and deep maroon tie. His silver hair was cut and styled perfectly and Jack knew somehow that a farmer’s cap hadn’t spent much time on that head. The man was poised, confident, and commanded the attention of the crowd completely.

“Excuse me?” Jack said.

“She was given the position at the home as a favor to my son,” the man said, approaching Jack as he pulled the suit jacket together and buttoned it.

“Your son?” Jack repeated.

“Dr. Michael Worthington,” the man answered. “You said you knew of him.”

So this was Walter Worthington. Brooke’s father-in-law.

The man reeked of money—cattle and oil, Jack knew—and self-importance. Jack suspected that Walter had located his ranch in Honey Creek where he could own half the town and influence the other half, rather than compete with the other millionaires in places like Lubbock or even Dallas for title of big shot.

Jack straightened from his stool slowly. Even at his age, Walter had the build of a linebacker, but Jack was no slouch. His six-foot-four-inch frame put him about two inches above Walter, a fact that Jack fully intended to use. Not that this was going to get physical. Still, it was good for Walter to know that Jack had confidently faced a lot worse things in the ER than a cattleman with too much money and ego.

“I know there are a number of physicians in San Antonio who admire your daughter-in-law a great deal,” Jack said, again able to speak the truth. His Google search had quickly expanded to Brooke Donovan-Worthington and had pulled up articles about events and fundraisers she led where several San Antonio physicians were quoted, as well as some human-interest stories about girls from the Girls Home.

“Ex-daughter-in-law,” Walter corrected. “And I’m sure they said that. Professional courtesy and all that. Especially if you were a…friend of Brooke’s?” He said it with a slight question at the end.

Jack certainly wasn’t offended by the insinuation that he and Brooke had been involved beyond a collegial relationship. She was an amazing woman. Except that she’d been married. Walter’s tone suggested that he was questioning both her and Jack’s morals in that regard and that offended him. In fact, Walter Worthington pretty much offended him in general.

“I’d never personally met Ms. Donovan until I came to Honey Creek. But she has in impressive reputation.”

It was immediately clear that that was the wrong thing to say.

“Oh, of that I’m certain,” Walter said with an arrogant smile. “You should watch yourself, son, you might find out how she earned it.”

Stunned by the man’s blatant attack on Brooke’s character, Jack started to lean in as he opened his mouth, but the other man went on.

“Before he died, my son was Honey Creek’s primary medical practitioner.”

Before he died.
My son.
Oh, God. Jack felt his chest tighten in spite of his dislike for the man.

Jack had inadvertently affected Walter’s life too. Walter had lost his son.

His research had told him that Michael Worthington was also survived by his parents, but it was quite clear that they didn’t need any money, so he’d written them off as unimportant to his trip to Honey Creek. Of course, his trip to Honey Creek was supposed to have been one day and involve nothing more than handing over a check. And now that he knew Brooke it seemed that he couldn’t focus on anything but her. Still, no matter how pompous he was, Walter had been forced to attend the funeral of his only child. That wasn’t right.

Then—fortunately for Jack’s conscience anyway—Walter spoke again.

“Of course, Brooke had to tag along. No matter how often I asked him to leave her in San Antonio.” Walter chuckled and looked around the room as if he was just kidding.