Not His Type (2 page)

“Who’s this?” a
strident voice queried.  “Where’s Bunny?”

“My name is
Travis Cooper,” he said.  “I’m Brooke’s, uh, Bunny’s new neighbor.”

“Why’re you
answerin’ her phone?”  Travis thought the woman slurred her words a bit.

“Are you a
friend of Brooke’s?” Travis asked politely.

The woman
laughed, the hoarse, raucous laugh of a heavy smoker.  “Oh, I dunno if she’d
call me a friend, even though I gave that girl everything.  With no help from
her no-good father, either!”

“Oh!  Then
you’re her mother?”

“Maybe.  Who’s
askin’?”

“Brooke was
injured in an accident, ma’am,” Travis said, trying not to frighten the woman. 
“I haven’t talked to a doctor yet, but I’m sure she’s gonna be fine.  She –“

“Ah, she’ll be
fine,” the woman interrupted.  “That girl’s like a cat.  Always lands on her
feet, y’know?  Listen, do me a favor.  When you talk to her, tell her I didn’t
get my check.  Tell her I need her to overnight it, wouldja?”

And just like
that, the call was over.  Travis stared at the phone.  Well, now he knew what
kind of person named their daughter Bunny, anyway.  He continued scrolling
through the contacts.  Here was one that looked promising:  Grandpa.  Travis
dialed the number and waited for someone to answer; the voice on the other end
didn’t sound like anyone’s grandfather.

“This is gonna
sound strange,” Travis said.  “But would you happen to know a young woman named
Brooke Valentine?”

“Yes,” the man
said.  “Well, no.  I mean, I don’t actually know her.  This was her
grandfather’s phone number.  He died several months ago, and she hasn’t been
able to take the number out of her phone, poor kid.  She pocket-dialed me a few
times, so one day I called her back and we talked for a bit.  She all right?”

“Well, she was
in a motorcycle accident,” Travis said.  “I was just goin’ through her phone,
lookin’ for friends or family.”

“Oh, sorry, I
can’t help you with that,” the man replied.  “I don’t think she has family in
the area since her grandpa died.  I don’t know about friends.  I hope she’s
okay.”

“Yeah, me, too,”
Travis agreed.  “Thanks anyway.”

As Travis ended
the call, the doctor came to the waiting room.  Travis stood as the doctor
approached, his expression serious.

“Are you her
husband?” the doctor asked.

“No, I’m her
neighbor,” Travis answered.  “She’s not married and she has no family that I
know of.”

“Well….”  The
doctor hesitated.

“How is she?”

“I’m not
supposed to release information to someone who’s not a family member.”

“Oh, didn’t I
tell you?” Travis said quickly.  “I’m her fiancé.”

“Not family?”
the doctor said, one brow arched meaningfully.

“Brother!”
Travis amended.  “I’m her brother!”

“Good enough,”
the doctor said, nodding.  “We’re going to have to operate.”

“What?  Why?”

“To repair the
femoral artery.”  He shook his head.  “She’s lucky she didn’t bleed out.  The
artery has a pretty good tear in it.  Good call on not removing the metal until
you got her here.  I think there may also be some nerve damage.  I’ve called in
a specialist to see how much we can repair.”

Travis felt like
he’d been punched in the gut.  It was a nail from
his
roof that
flattened the tire on her car, necessitating her riding the motorcycle.  And it
was one of the men building
his
house who’d stepped out in front of her,
and a piece of
his
guttering that had laid open her thigh.

“How bad is the
nerve damage?” Travis asked.  “And what does that mean?”

“It’s not my
field, of course, so I really can’t say how extensive the damage is.  As far as
what the damage could mean, it could mean anything from difficulty walking –
though I doubt that – to something as minor as a little numbness or tingling of
the leg.”

“Please, Doc,”
Travis said grimly.  “Do whatever it takes.”

Chapter 2

Brooke felt as
if she were swimming up from the bottom of a deep, dark lake.  She struggled
upward, pushing against the darkness that seemed to envelope her.  Her left leg
ached, the pain deep and fiery.  Was she caught on something under the water? 
She heard a hoarse moan, not recognizing the voice.  Finally, with a colossal
effort, she opened her eyes.

She was in a strange
bed in a strange room.  A soft beep sounded nearby; Brooke turned her head
toward the sound, seeing some kind of monitor beside her.  And was that…an IV
pole?  She turned her head slowly the other direction.  A man sat in a chair
nearby; as if sensing her eyes on him, he looked up from his phone.

“Construction
guy?” Brooke said, her voice weak and papery.

“Travis,” the
man said, standing up and moving next to the bed.  “Travis Cooper.  How’re you
feeling?”

“Weak,” she
said.  “Sore.  What happened?  Why does my leg hurt so badly?”

“Do you remember
spinning out on your bike yesterday?” he asked.

“Yesterday?” 
Brooke moaned, her had falling back on the pillows.  “I had a test in
economics.  And I was supposed to work.”

“I’m sure your
professor and your boss will both understand.”

“Not likely,”
she mumbled.  “What’s wrong with my leg?  Wait!  How’s my bike?”

“Your bike is
fine,” he answered, chuckling.  “I put it in my garage.  Your leg, on the other
hand, could be better.”

“What happened?”

“You slid on the
wet street when one of the workers stepped out from behind my Hummer.  There
was a piece of guttering lying in the street and you slid over it.  Sliced your
leg open from just above your knee to just below your hip.”

“Stitches, huh?”

“Um, not just
stitches, Brooke,” Travis said.  “You had to have surgery to repair a torn
femoral artery and to repair some nerve damage.  You were in surgery for over
five hours.  And actually, they used staples, not stitches.”

“I’ve been out
of it since yesterday morning?  What time is it anyway?  Why are you here?”

Travis thought
she seemed to be on the verge of panicking; he put a reassuring hand on her
shoulder, saying, “Yes, they’ve had you on some pretty strong pain killers.  I
came by last night after work and again this evening to check on you.”

“I’m supposed to
be at work today!”

“Brooke, I don’t
think you realize how serious this is!  You could’ve died.  You were in very
real danger of bleeding to death!”

“But I
need
that job!” she said.  Her green eyes shimmered.  “And I needed to take that
test!  And I…I – oh, no!  Boo!”

“I’m sorry,
what?”

“Boo!  Nobody’s
fed Boo!”

“Oh.  Is that
the name of that horse that lives with you?”

“He’s not a
horse, and he’ll be lonely and hungry and I can’t even imagine the mess he’s made
in my house, and –“

“Brooke, I took
care of it.”

“You – how?  And
how do you know my name?”

“I know your
name because it was on the contract for the property next to yours.  I’m your
new neighbor.”  He smiled.  “And I tried to figure out where you might hide a
key, and I found it.  I heard your horse – I mean your dog – barking.”

“Thank you…I
think.”

“Some watchdog
you have there.  He nearly licked me to death when I let myself in your house.”

“Yeah, he’s like
that.”  She lay silently for a moment.  “I thought you were just a builder.”

“Not by trade,
no,” Travis answered.  “I used to work for my uncle’s construction company when
I was in high school.  I worked on my own house to make sure everything was
exactly as I wanted it.

“Any idea when
they might let me out?” Brooke asked suddenly.  She seemed distracted, not
really listening to everything he said.

“The doctor said
maybe tomorrow.”

Travis could
tell his answer disturbed Brooke.  She looked away, chewing thoughtfully on her
lower lip.

“Listen, I’m
watching your place while you’re here,” he said.  “All you need to worry about
is getting better.”  He rubbed a hand over his military cut hair.  “I’m really
sorry about everything.  The tire, the worker and the guttering that sliced you
open.”

Brooke waved
dismissively.  She shifted uncomfortably, a pained grimace on her face.

“You okay?”
Travis asked frowning.

“Leg hurts,”
Brooked admitted.  “A lot.”

Brooke shifted
again, pushing herself up in the bed as if she could leave the pain behind.  Her
breathing seemed to be growing shallow.  A film of perspiration glistened on
her pale face.  Travis reached for the call button for a nurse.

“You should’ve
said something,” he said.  A disembodied voice broke into the room asking how
it could help.  “Miss Valentine is in a lot of pain.”

“Hmm…it’s a
little early for her next dose,” the voice said.  “Someone will be with you in
an hour.”

“What, no!”
Travis said.  “She needs something now!”

“Sorry, it’s too
soon,” the voice answered, all business.

Travis looked at
Brooke.  Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was now sweating heavily.  Travis
could see a pulse fluttering at the base of her throat.  He’d seen enough
injured men to know this wasn’t good.  She moaned and swallowed hard several
times, prompting Travis to grab a nearby plastic tub.  He slid an arm under
Brooke as her body began to heave; she’d not eaten in over twenty-four hours, so
the only thing that came up was bile.  When she finished, Travis gently lowered
her to the pillows; he wiped her face with a cool, damp washcloth.

“I’ll be right
back,” he said tightly.  “Just hang on, Brooke.”  Travis strode from the room;
he approached the nurse’s station.  “I don’t care if it’s too soon for Miss Valentine
to have more pain meds,” he snapped at one of the three women behind the desk. 
“I think she’s going into shock!”

“Valentine?” one
of the nurses repeated.  She looked down at a chart, her eyes widening.  “No,
it sounded like – never mind!  I’ll be right there.”

Travis returned
to Brooke’s room.  As soon as he saw her, he slammed the door open again,
shouting for a nurse.  Brooke Valentine had gone into a full-blown seizure, the
muscles in her body so taut she was shaking.  Her eyes had rolled back in her
head and her back and neck arched backward.

Several people
poured into the room.  Travis stepped back, out of the way.  Orders were barked
out and syringes flashed.  Within a minute or two, Brooke’s body went limp. 
One of the doctors stepped back and looked at Travis.

“What happened?”
he asked.

“She was in
severe pain,” Travis explained, his anger clear.  “I called the nurse’s
station, but they said it was too soon for her to have anything.  I saw enough
injuries on my three tours of duty to recognize when somebody is going into
shock, so I went out to talk to a nurse.  When I came back, she was having a
seizure.  Is she all right?”

“She’s stable,”
the doctor replied.  He frowned.  “I’ll check the dosage of pain meds we have
her on.  If I need to, I can up the –“

“Um, doctor.” 
Travis and the doctor turned to look at the nurse from the nurse’s station. 
She seemed embarrassed.  “There was a mistake.  This patient is Brooke
Valentine
;
two doors down is Mrs.
Cabot
, who had pain meds more recently than Miss Valentine.”

The doctor blew
out a sigh of frustration and snapped at the nurse, “I’ll talk to you more
about this.”  It was clearly a dismissal, and the nurse left; the doctor turned
back to Travis.  “That’s twice she’s been lucky you were here.”

Chapter 3

Travis sat in
his office at his new house.  Brooke Valentine’s enormous harlequin Great Dane
snoozed at Travis’ feet under his desk.  When he’d arrived the night before to
check on the huge dog, the beast had behaved like a big baby, whining and
whimpering until Travis relented and took the dog home with him.  Boo obviously
missed his mistress and was lonely in the house by himself.

Travis and the
dog both started when a cell phone jangled noisily.  Boo set up a racket
barking as if the Manson family had come for dinner.  Travis reached for
Brooke’s cell phone.  He’d kept it on, the battery charged, just in case
someone – a friend maybe – called looking for her.

“Hello?” Travis
answered.

“Uh…I must have
the wrong number,” a male voice said.  “I was trying to reach Brooke Valentine.”

“This is her
cell phone,” Travis said.  “May I ask who’s calling?”

“Yeah, this is
her boss at the diner,” the man replied.  “Who’s this?”

“Travis Cooper,
her neighbor.  Brooke’s in the hospital.  Can I give her a message?”

“Oh.  Is she
sick?”