The Bride Wore Red Boots (10 page)

The rest of the conversation passed in a fog. She barely heard the condolences or the further explanations. She recoiled inside at the name of the candidate who
had
been given the job, an actual resident working on his first certification. An obsequious man five years her junior who was a good surgeon but a better manager. Is that really what they wanted? When Mason asked her for the second time what she'd like to do in the next year, she had to shake herself out of a fog.

“I don't know,” she replied dully. “I'm blindsided.”

“I understand.”

She pressed her fingers against her eye sockets, ashamed that behind the pressure tears were forming. Mason stood and moved to stand in front of her, grabbing a tissue along the way and handing it to her.

“I'm sorry, Amelia. I know you were hoping to finish your certification in time to be considered for the opening at Sinai next fall. It's a dream job, you say, but you'll be a much stronger candidate for a similar position later. Meanwhile, I have a recommendation. You need to take some of that vacation you've accumulated and relax from the ungodly hours you've been keeping. You can come to terms with this decision and decide how you want to structure the next year.”

“You've been behind me and this plan all along; could you just tell me who suddenly changed your mind about me?”

“I've never changed my mind about you,” he said. “I know you'll be a superstar in this field just as you are in everything else you do.”

She stood, a surge of anger washing over her. “Don't patronize. Did you or did you not recommend me for the job?”

“I did. But I also agreed with the rest of the committee that it wouldn't hurt for you to take one more year.”

“Well, I thank you for that honesty anyway. If I'd known that what you and the committee really wanted was a wet nurse for the staff and not the best doctor for this hospital's patients, I'd certainly have played the game a little differently. As it was, I simply did the best medical job I'm capable of doing. Clearly I made the wrong call.”

“I'm sure you feel that way.”

“Oh, I do. Thank you for your time.”

“Amelia. This is what I mean. You need to learn not to say the first things that come into your head.”

“Dr. Thomas, I expect no less of myself than I do of everyone else I work with.”

She didn't say anymore, just turned and left the office, her heart a confused and battered lump in her chest.

“G
ABRIEL
! D
ARLING BOY
. Thank you so much for coming!”

Gabe accepted a huge hug from Bella Crockett, the girls' still-beautiful mother, and let her lead him toward a square of couches in a private corner of the VA hospital's surgery waiting area. He'd learned early on that when the Crockett women got together at the hospital, some sort of a party broke out. It could be they smuggled in a bottle of contraband Scotch to celebrate a milestone—like Joely getting staples out of a surgical incision—or started an all-day poker tournament to stave off boredom. And, from the day he'd become Joely's patient advocate, he'd been dragged into the family's dynamic circle, despite all attempts over the weeks to stay neutral and aloof.

“Bella. You're looking more perfect every time I see you,” he said. The girls' mother had been in the automobile accident with Joely but had been released from the hospital two weeks ago. Only a slight limp and a cast on one arm remained from her ordeal.

“A result of you getting us the best of care,” she replied, her smile genuinely warm. “I'm so glad you're here. You've been such a help in all this. It feels like you're one of the family.”

“A result of you being the best of families. Now—I see Joely's surgery is spawning a Crockett party. What do we have this time?” He lifted a bottle of pinot grigio and then a bottle of petite sirah and checked the labels as if he knew what he was doing. “Very nice,” he said. “Never too early in the day for a good wine?”

“It's
almost
lunchtime.” Harper, the second-oldest Crockett sister, grinned and pointed at a tray on the table in front of them. “So we have sandwiches to start off with. The wine will get opened as nerves set in. They said it could take a while.”

“It could,” he agreed. “But Joely will be fine. The wine will be in preparation for celebrating, I promise.”

Before he sat, he smiled at the three remaining women in the little circle. Raquel and Grace, indistinguishable from each other until he spoke to them, represented two-thirds of the Crockett triplets, the youngest of the sisters. They sat on either side of the most amazing of all the Crockett women, their grandmother, ninety-four-year-old Sadie. He squatted in front of the delightful senior and took her hand.

“It's officially a celebration since you're here. How are you, Sadie?”

“Happier than an old woman has a right to be now that I have your handsome face to look upon,” she said.

“You're a be
guiling
woman.” He laughed and kissed the back of her hand.

“Well, I used to be.” She laughed, an infectious and hearty sound for a nonagenarian.

He winked at the triplet to Sadie's right. “You know I'm horrible at getting you right on sight alone. You three switch places between here and Denver so often that I can't keep you straight. But let me try.” He took in her tweedy dress pants and polished boots, compared them to her sister's faded-leg jeans, and his memory kicked in. “Grace,” he said.

“Awesome,” she replied.

She was the sedate, sweet, polished sister who fit her name. Raquel the tomboy would never have bothered to polish her boots. “And Raquel.”

They each stood and offered a quick hug, and he left them impressed without giving away his tactics. At least they hadn't all three been here.

“I just stopped by for a little while to see if there was anything you needed,” he said. “They just wheeled her in.”

A cell phone buzzed. Harper drew hers out of a purse pocket and checked the screen. “It's Cole,” she said, referring to her new fiancé, Cole Wainwright. Together they'd just taken over the reins of the family's empire—Paradise Ranch. One of the largest spreads in Wyoming. “He texted that he's sending up lots of prayers for Joely.” She looked at Gabe. “They're setting winter fencing, and he couldn't be here,” she said. “He made me promise to keep the updates coming.”

Even thought they'd recently lost their father, the man who'd run Paradise with an iron will, the girls had struggled but were clearly pulling together now. Gabe smiled at Harper. “Cole's a good man.”

“Yeah.” Harper smiled back. “He is. I got lucky.”

Her text got Gabe to pull out his own phone, hoping to see anything from one of his motley band of eight. It was nearly eleven. This time of the morning they all should have been out job hunting with cell phones at the ready. But there was nothing. For the third time, he brought up Jason Brewster's number and excused himself while he slammed down a text. “Brewster, you know I don't trust you as far as I can throw you today. Call me so I know your dumb ass isn't going to get me and the rest of you into hot water.”

It wasn't an idle fear. Brewster and two of the other men had finally received letters from VA Benefits, only to be told they weren't eligible for full coverage on their psych benefits, but their cases were being reviewed and they would hear back again shortly. Gabe completely understood their anger and utter frustration. But based on their reactions to the letters, he didn't trust them to stick to harmless pranks any longer.

“I'm serious, call—”A full-fledged screech cut him off before he finished the text. He pushed send anyway, his alarm at full strength. “What's wrong? What happened?”

All the Crockett women, except Sadie, were on their feet. He followed their line of sight, and a wrecking ball hit him in the chest. Dr. Amelia Crockett strode from the doors of the OR suites toward their corner, a small rolling suitcase behind her. A baby blue sweater and colorful scarf hugged her upper body, nicely worn, soft-looking jeans encased her long—long—legs, and the most stand-out, classy pair of red cowboy boots he'd ever seen popped out from beneath the hems of the jeans as she walked.

“Mia!” Raquel shot down the hall and threw her arms around her sister. “Oh my gosh! This is fantastic. I thought you couldn't make it.”

“I didn't think I could either,” she replied, and Gabe's mouth went a little dry when her eyes met his over Raquel's shoulder.

Their view was blocked when Grace enveloped Amelia in a second hug. By the time the threesome made its way to the couches, Harper and Bella were holding out their arms.

“Hey, hey, it's all right.” Amelia's voice soothed from the middle of the pack of sisters. “I got the chance to come, so I came. It's no big deal.”

“But you just missed her!” Raquel said.

“Girls, let your sister put her things down,” Sadie said, and when Amelia had parked her suitcase and set an overcoat on an empty chair, she bent to embrace her grandmother in a long, hard hug.

Gabriel looked away from the reunion and let his pulse slow. He was more than surprised himself, since she'd made it pretty clear the last time they'd spoken that she wasn't able to leave New York.

“Well, well. Good morning, Lieutenant.”

He looked back to find her just feet from him, her brown eyes flecked with fiery gold sparks, her soft brown hair piled in a sexily dilapidated, bun-like array that looked as if she'd slept on it in a plane, and her lips curved in a provocative smile.

“Well, well. Good morning, Dr. Crockett. Imagine meeting you in a place like this.”

“I know, right? They'll let just about anyone into a hospital these days.” Her smile met his, shaded with barely discernable teasing.

His heart warmed into the game that had grown familiar over the course of their recent conversations, but before he could retort again Bella tugged on Amelia's arm.

“Now, you two, don't you start.” She chided them both. “Mia, sweetheart, how did you get here?”

“You didn't really just ask that, did you, Mommy?” Amelia turned and wrapped her mother in a teasing hug. “It might have been on an airplane, but I started long enough ago I'm not entirely sure.”

“That's exactly what I asked,” her mother said, patting Mia's cheek. “It's not easy to get into Jackson before eleven in the morning.”

Amelia released Bella and rubbed her eyes. “LaGuardia to Atlanta. Atlanta to Salt Lake. Commuter to here. There was a three-hour layover somewhere.”

“Honey,” Bella said. “You didn't have to put yourself through that.”

“I did if I wanted a shot at talking to the surgeon before he started.” She sighed but seemed to regather her self-assurance. “I made it. Barely. I'm sorry I didn't let you know I was here, but I went right to pre-op and found Perry, uh, Dr. Landon. I talked to Joely, too. I think I've got the lay of the land, and I think she's in very good hands. He knows his stuff.”

Perry, was he? Gabe scowled at the hint of resentment that settled in his gut. He was still a sardonic “Lieutenant Harrison,” but the surgeon he'd put her in touch with was already “He Knows His Stuff” Perry?

His resentment faded when she turned back to him. “Thanks for hooking me up with him. It's been helpful.”

She'd read his mind?

Lord, he hoped not.

“It's what I do,” he said. “I'm glad you could get here. Something must have changed in your schedule.”

Nothing changed in her features but everything changed in her face. He wondered if everyone else saw it, too, and it took him a moment to decipher the transformation. It was her eyes. The illusion of hot, golden flecks in them had disappeared. Although she still held onto her pleasant smile, some fire within had gone out. He studied the muddy brown of her irises, and she didn't turn, not at first. Deeply he searched for any sign of the previous heat, and for the briefest moment he caught a repeat of the yearning he'd imagined in her voice earlier, only this time it was visible. Buried in the dullness of her captured gaze was something painful. He recognized it because he'd seen much stronger variations of it in hundreds of service men and women coming through the VA's doors. Amelia's wasn't the same kind of trauma, but it was . . . something. He fought a startling urge to pull her into his arms the way her mother had done.

And then it was gone. As if someone had found the extinguished pilot light and held a match to it, her eyes flared back to life, this time fueled by annoyance and anger. So familiar—the Amelia Crockett he'd grown to know so well right after the accident two months earlier.

“I rearranged my schedule, that's all.” She snapped at him. “I decided my sister was more important than kids I didn't know.”

He guessed that was true to a certain extent, and yet her words didn't ring with conviction—simply with anger.

“I know that meant a lot to her,” he replied.

Her troubles were her own, he counseled himself. And yet something touched him and made him want to delve behind her anger. That had never happened the million other times she'd snapped at him. He'd seen her as the hard-assed, know-it-all Crockett sister and left her to herself whenever possible. During their spate of phone calls over the past two weeks, however, he'd more than once heard a softer side of Amelia Crockett. He'd hoped her distaste for him might have softened, too.

Apparently he was still little more than a bureaucrat who existed only for the purpose of throwing road blocks in her way.

Everyone shifted and made room in the circle of seats, and Bella guided Amelia to an empty sofa cushion next to Gabe. They smiled tightly like two awkward teenagers forced together at a mixer. She laced her fingers in her lap. A scent of perfume rose around her, so light he barely noticed it, yet beckoning until he had to fight himself to keep from leaning in. He rarely paid attention to a woman's fragrance unless it was strong and overwhelming. This was feminine and subtle like walking unforced through a spring garden of flowers and spice.

He shook himself free of the mini spell and looked away. Holy crap, what alien had just invaded his brain? He sat back, slightly shaken, and decided on the spot he liked talking to Amelia Crockett on the phone much better than in person.

“Tell us what Dr. Landon had to say,” Bella asked. “Maybe he could explain things to you in more detail than he could to us.”

Gabe sat back and listened to Amelia describe the injury and the surgery. She had a straightforward but gentle style of explanation, and he was thoroughly impressed with how clear she was without resorting to condescension. Where had this doctor been back when he'd first met her? Nearly every time he'd been with the family while she'd been around, she'd done nothing but take him to task for each decision made, any information he wasn't allowed to divulge, and whatever explanation he'd tried to give. This doctor was a gifted teacher.

“So you think her chances are good?” Grace asked.

“I have every confidence she'll come through well. Nobody knows if removing those fragments will make a difference to the movement in her damaged leg. That's the long shot. And Joely knows that, too. She wasn't given any false hope. At the very least, I do think this will eliminate some of the pain she's been having and make her rehab easier. If we're very lucky, she'll get a bonus.”

Nobody spoke. In the contemplative silence Gabe studied each woman in turn and was struck by the serenity underpinning each one's concern. When he slid his gaze to Amelia's face, he was startled to find her watching him back.

He grinned irreverently. “I like your boots.”

She stared for a moment and then broke into laughter. It spilled from her reluctantly with hiccups and hitches until she shook her head. “You're just a little off-kilter, aren't you, Lieutenant?”

“Gabe.” He leaned toward her and half-whispered his name slowly, in an even, pleasant voice. Touching the lapel of his sport coat and then lifting the collar tip of his casual, button-down shirt, he leaned a notch closer and caught another intoxicating whiff of her perfume. “Cheap civilian jacket. No bars. It's just Gabe, Amelia. And your boots are worthy of comment. I meant it as a compliment.”