Shifting Gears (3 page)

Holt left town much the way he’d come
in. One day he kind of showed up, and three months later, he was
gone.

He’s a bounty hunter, and he came to
Coral Springs that first time following his mark. He told me back
then he was working for this man in Atlanta, Sid Rotham. I knew
Rotham from television. He owned several nightclubs and had been in
the news many times after being arrested for “suspicious
activities” in his clubs. He’d never actually been found guilty of
anything, but it’s known he’s a shady something, and it seems he’s
smart, covering up whatever it is he’s doing illegal.

Holt had been hired by Rotham to find
and secure someone “of interest” to him. The man was on the run,
but I don’t know if Holt ever actually caught him because he never
told me. He really didn’t tell me much of anything about himself,
his work, his life. What I had learned was as a result of one of
those rare nights when he gave me a small, sometimes miniscule,
piece of himself. It didn’t matter how irrelevant it was, I held
onto it. Cherished it.

The red flags were there from the very
beginning. I ignored them. I should’ve known by the way he looked,
how secretive he was, not to mention working for a shady
businessman like Rotham, that he was no good. But I didn’t, and I’d
had to learn the hard way.

It was clear back then that none of
the men in town would’ve fucked with him, but the women secretly
wished they could. I could see it in their faces, their mouths
dropped just as much as my own. Turned out I got the chance to be
with him, but, after it was too late to matter, I discovered I
wasn’t the only one. That was a knife twisting in my
heart.

Up until I met him, I’d always been
safe Niki. Cautious Niki. Think-things-through-before-acting-rashly
Niki. All those safety nets disappeared when he walked into The Rox
that night. I was sitting at the bar with Cass, listening to one of
the bands, when I felt a presence. I was pulled to him before I
even saw him. And then he walked past us, glanced our way, and my
heart stopped. At the sight of him, I literally experienced all
that poetic crap people go on about—weak in the knees, heart going
pitter-patter. The world around me muted. If you’d asked me my name
in that instant, I wouldn’t have been able to give you a
reply.

At least six feet tall, he was badass,
in a worn leather jacket, torn jeans, and biker boots. I couldn’t
help but gawk at him. Watching the women chatter and stare in his
direction, I knew they had the same thing on their mind. They
looked just as hungry as I did. He was that hot.

His long deep brown hair looked like
he’d rolled out of bed and run a hand through it, and I found
myself daydreaming about tangling my fingers in it. Not every man
could work that kind of hair, but he, without a doubt,
did.

You could tell he took care of his
body, that he worked out, my guess, every day. The ribbed shirt he
wore under his jacket showed off a tight, well-defined chest, and
he had that look. The look of someone you did not want to piss off.
Ever.

His face, unshaven, with its strong
jaw line, was so intense that even a smile did nothing to soften
it. Yet, somewhere underneath his hardness, I saw something else.
His eyes gave him away. They were blue-gray and electric, almost as
if a storm was brewing somewhere, but I saw gentleness in them.
Compassion. I was instantly hooked by the man with the tattoos and
broad shoulders. I wanted to know his story, wanted to know who he
was. I wanted him.

He got a beer from the bar and slowly
put it to his lips. Tipping his head back, he took a deep swallow.
A shiver trailed down my back as I watched his lips on that bottle.
He hadn’t even looked back my way after walking past us, so I knew
he was clueless of my existence, my gawking. And, like always with
men like him, one of the boobs-out-to-there women lurking around
The Rox would flaunt herself his way. In a matter of minutes, he’d
be sucked into her lair.

But I couldn’t stop watching him. My
jaw was still dropped as he took another sip from his bottle. My
heart raced when he turned his head in my direction, stared at me,
and smiled. Heat radiated through my body. I fought a pang of
nausea—and giggles at the same time—from the anticipation as he
walked across the crowded floor....to me.

****

There’s a knock at my door. “Honey,
it’s me. Can I come in?”

When I open my door, I see the “I’m
sorry, I messed up” look Cass always gives me when she feels she’s
done just that.

It’s her way of apologizing, trying to
make a truce. I’ve seen this face so many times after a stupid
fight. She’s always the first to apologize. She can’t stand it when
we’re mad at each other. I think the longest we’ve ever gone is six
hours, and that’s only because I had to go to work. I left home
angry and in a hurry, forgetting my cell. She had to wait until I
got off work to apologize.

Before I say anything, she blurts out,
“I’m sorry, Niki. I swear the only thing I told Ang is that he was
an ass to you when he lived here, and none of us thought we’d ever
see him again. It’s your story to tell, and I would never tell it
to anyone. I love you. I cried with you after that shit went down,
and I still wish you’d let me kick his ass.”

I slump my shoulders and walk back
over to my bed, tossing myself across it. “Why didn’t I have the
guts to go up to him and at least slap him in the face?”

She crosses to my bed and flings
herself onto it too, like when we were teenagers, crying or
laughing over boys at sleepovers. “Nik, hun, you know you don’t
have that in you. Leave that shit to me. Say the word, say the
fucking word, and I’m on it.”

My dear Cass, she knows me
well.

I turn my body sideways, facing her,
resting my head on my arm. “You wouldn’t even get a shot at him.
He’s too fast. Anyway, you know that’s something I have to do. He
did it to me, to my life, so it should be me who confronts him, not
you.” I drop my head to my pillow as I let out a dull sigh. “But
I’m not going down that road, making an idiot of myself along the
way. He doesn’t even remember me. I was something to occupy his
time while he was here. He sensed my naiveté and took advantage of
it. And then he got bored.”

“But wait, what about when you said he
was behind Clay’s car when y’all came out?” Cass says.

“It did seem like he was looking at
us, but I’m sure it was my imagination. He was probably having an
after-sex smoke like he use to do when...” I shiver at the memory
of watching him smoke after hours of fucking. “I mean, why else
would she be in there like that? In the dark? I doubt she was
taking a nap.”

“Maybe not. But, I don’t know, it’s
kind of weird how he was parked right behind Clay’s car. The kind
of car he
knows
you’re attracted to. And you even said it
looked like he was watching you and Clay drive away. Plus, why
would he park in that lot when Rox’s was nowhere near
full?”

“Well, maybe because they wanted to be
in the dark.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she says, but her voice
is full of doubt.

“I don’t understand why he’s back.
After all this time? I mean, he doesn’t have any family in town. At
least nobody he ever told me about or introduced me to. There’s
nothing to bring him back here...unless, maybe, you think he’s on
another job?”

Cass shrugs. “Don’t know. Guess you’re
going to have to ask him.”

“Not happening. He doesn’t know me. I
don’t know him.”

Two weeks
later...

It’s a Thursday afternoon, and I’ve
just finished an appointment. I have some time to kill, so I wander
out to the front office to chat with our receptionist,
Katy—something I do a lot, when I have the time. I like her. At
twenty-two, she’s younger than me, she’s a spitfire, and she
reminds me so much of Cass. She keeps us all laughing when she goes
out with us to The Rox, competing with Clay over the
guys.

I have my pink scrubs on today, my
favorite as they’re the most girly, along with my chucks, the
must-haves as far as shoes go for me. I always start my day with a
spritz of my favorite perfume. Kind of pointless really, because by
the end of the day I smell more like a mixture of wet dog, cat pee,
and flea shampoo—one of the many hazards of working with animals.
Nonetheless, it’s my thing, so I keep with the routine. My long
brown, curls-when-it-wants-to-hair is pulled back in a tight
ponytail, away from my face. I never wear much makeup in general,
only a little eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss, and today is no
different.

Katy is on the phone and raises her
finger, motioning me to stay put when she sees me
approach.

“Can I squeeze in a new client for you
between your three and four-fifteen appointments?” she asks,
muffling the earpiece.

“Yes, absolutely.”

She returns to the phone and proceeds
to schedule the appointment with the caller. When she hangs up,
Katy looks at me and grins. “Hmmm, he sounded like one major
hottie.”

I roll my eyes, and start chatting
with her about one of the latest bands that played at The
Rox.

My three PM appointment is Mrs.
Frawley and her fat cat, Sam. He’s such a sweetheart and has been
coming to Hobbs since Mrs. Frawley rescued him from the shelter
eight years ago.

After I finish his checkup, which
always ends with Mrs. Frawley saying, “Yes, dear, certainly,” when
I remind her to slow down on the kitty treats for Sam, I walk them
out to the lobby.

“Dr. Stringer, dear, I meant to ask
you, how is Dr. Caravan doing?” she asks, as we make it to the
front desk.

“Well, I’m sure he’s doing well,
wherever he is.” I laugh to hide my sadness. I still can’t
understand why he hasn’t been in contact with me, or any of us at
the hospital, since he retired.

“You mean you don’t know where he
is?”

“Not exactly. I mean, I know he’d
planned to go to Florida to meet up with a bird-watching group he
mentioned before he left.”

“Oh, well, I’m sure he’s enjoying all
the leisure time he has now. Can’t think of anybody more deserving
of it either, with all he did for this hospital and those kids at
the youth center. You know, he was the one who talked me into
volunteering at the shelter. That’s how I met my precious Sam.” She
gives her fat cat a squeeze. “It’s a shame Rose Marie died so
young. That damn cancer and them not having any kids...so sad. He’s
all alone.”

“Yeah, I know, but you’re right. I’m
sure he’s enjoying his retirement, and he’ll call us when he starts
getting stir-crazy.” I laugh again to cover my real feelings. I
miss him. Terribly.

“Well, he made a wise decision leaving
the care of this hospital to you. I’m sure he’s very proud of you,
watching you grow from that little girl, bringing in all those
stray animals with your daddy...” I must’ve been staring, because
Mrs. Frawley raises her mouth in a smile and arches her eyebrows.
“Yes, that’s right. I remember, dear. And now into the beautiful,
skilled doctor you are today. You worked hard to get where you are.
I know. He’s so proud of you, I’m sure of it.”

I’d forgotten that Mrs. Frawley has
been coming to the hospital since before Doc C took over. And that
she remembers me when I was a kid, with Dad. The tears had already
been building when she mentioned Doc C, but now Dad…it’s hard to
hold them back. Thinking of the two men who’ve been the most
important people in my life—both now gone.

“Thank you so much. It’s so sweet of
you to say that. I’ll make sure to let him know you asked about him
when I hear from him again. I’m sure he’ll appreciate your kindness
too.” I grin at her as I wave my finger. “Now. Remember what I
said. Slow down on the treats for Sam.”

“Yes, dear,” she says, giggling. “I
promise.”

“Your three-forty-five is here,” Katy
says, and I turn to her just as she mouths, “H-O-T,” while giving
me an ear-to-ear grin.

I roll my eyes and walk back to the
exam room, where Beth, one of our technicians, is finishing tidying
up and spraying the exam table with sanitizer for the next patient.
I go over to the hospital ward quickly to check on one of my
patients, and when I get back, Beth is closing the door behind her,
sliding the patient’s chart in the drop box.

It looks like Katy isn’t the only one
who thinks the client is attractive. Beth’s cheeks are flushed and
she gives me a sheepish grin and walks away quickly, not saying a
word.

Great. It’s one thing to steer clear
of hot guys at The Rox, not giving them the chance to look me up
and down then walk right past me, like always. Here, there’s no
avoiding them.

I know I’m not most men’s ideal
woman—with my plain brown hair, pear-shaped body that’s seemingly
immune to the gym, and my apparent inability to have fun. That’s
why I make a point of staying away from men—so I don’t let the
disappointment of it own me—and sticking to my animals
instead.

I take a deep breath and slide my
hands down both sides of my top in an attempt to free it of
wrinkles and animal hair and cast-away fleas. I tighten my
ponytail, press my hair back for any flyaways then lick my lips to
give them a little moisture. I don’t know why I even bother,
pointless really, but I do. I grab the chart from its tray,
glancing down quickly to find the patient’s name so I can greet him
with it. Kilo.