Disgruntled, I nodded, and he removed his hand, then released my seat belt and gently lifted me out of the car. He hadn’t thought this through, because if he had, he would have unlocked the door leading into the house before he picked me up, but he handled it with only a little juggling. I couldn’t help him because my right arm was trapped between my body and his, and my left arm was useless. Tomorrow I would be able to use it a little, but I knew from experience that right after a trauma the damaged muscle just refuses to work.
He got me inside, turning on light switches with his elbow, and deposited me in a chair in a breakfast nook. “Don’t try to get up for any reason. I’ll get the bags out of the car, then carry you wherever you want to go.”
He disappeared down the short hallway that led into the garage, and I wondered if the doctor had told him something about my condition that hadn’t been passed along to me, because I was perfectly capable of walking. Yes, I had gone all woozy in the car, but that was because I’d hit my arm. Other than feeling a little shaky-and my arm hurting like blue blazes-I was okay. The shaky feeling would be gone tomorrow, because this was how I always felt when I gave blood. It wasn’t even bad shaky, just a little shaky. So what was up with the “Don’t try to get up for any reason?”
Hah! The phone.
I looked around and saw an actual corded phone hanging on the wall, with a really long cord that would reach anywhere in the kitchen. Please. Why not just get a cordless? The units are so much more attractive.
I already had the number dialed and it was ringing by the time Wyatt, carrying both bags, reappeared at the other end of the little hallway. I gave him a “you didn’t fool me” smirk, and he rolled his eyes.
“Daddy,” I said when Dad answered the phone. I call him Daddy when I mean business, sort of like using someone’s full name. “Just what did you say to Wyatt that he thinks is the secret to handling me? How could you?” I was in full indignant wail by the time I finished.
Dad burst out laughing. “It’s okay, baby.” He calls all of us baby because, well, we did used to be his babies. He never calls Mom that, though. Uh-uh. He knows better. “It’s nothing that’ll undermine you; it was just something he needed to know right now.”
“Like what?”
“He’ll tell you.”
“Probably not. He’s stubborn that way.”
“No, he’ll tell you this. I promise.”
“You’ll beat him up for me if he doesn’t?” That was an old Dad-joke, that he’d beat up any man who made any of his girls unhappy. That’s why I didn’t tell him about Jason kissing Jenni, because I figured in that case he would really do it.
“No, but I’ll beat him up if he hurts you.”
Reassured, I said good-bye and turned to find Wyatt leaning against the cabinets with his arms crossed, regarding me with amusement. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”
“He said you would, and that he’d beat you up if you didn’t.” So I stretched the truth a little. Wyatt hadn’t been able to hear what Dad had actually said.
“It wasn’t anything bad.” Straightening, he went to the refrigerator. “How about some breakfast? That’s the fastest thing I can do. Eggs, bacon, toast.”
“That sounds great. What can I do to help?”
“With that arm, not much. Sit down and stay out of the way. That’ll be a big help.”
I sat, and looked around the breakfast nook and kitchen while he got out what he needed and started the bacon cooking in the microwave. To my surprise, the kitchen looked kind of old. The appliances were top-notch and fairly new and there was an island with a cooktop occupied the center, but the room itself had that solid, established feel to it.
“How old is this house?”
“Turn of the century. The last century. So it’s a little over a hundred years old. It was a farmhouse, and it’s been remodeled a couple of times. When I bought it, I did a major remodeling, tore down some interior walls, opened it up for a more modern look, added a couple of bathrooms. There are three bathrooms upstairs, a half bath down here. It’s a nice-size house, a little over three thousand square feet. I’ll show you around tomorrow.”
“How many bedrooms?”
“Four. There used to be six small ones, with just one bathroom, so I took that extra space to make the other bathrooms and enlarge the bedrooms and closets. That’ll make it easier to sell if I ever decide to move.”
“Why would you?” That was a lot of room for just one person, but from what I could see, there was a nice, homey feel to it. The kitchen cabinets were a warm golden color, the countertops were a greenish granite, and the floor was polished pine with colorful rugs strewn about. It wasn’t a fancy kitchen, despite the granite, but one that looked well-arranged and comfortable.
He shrugged. “This is my hometown and I’m comfortable here, plus this is where my family is, but a better job may open up somewhere else. You never know. I may spend the rest of my life here; I may not.”
It was a sensible outlook and one I held myself. I loved my home, but who knew what might happen? A smart person was flexible.
In short order he had plates of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast set on the table, with glasses of milk poured for both of us. He also opened the bottle of antibiotic pills and put two of them beside my plate, plus one of the pain relievers.
I didn’t fuss about taking the pain reliever. I’m no idiot. I wanted to quit hurting.
By the time I finished eating, I was yawning. Wyatt rinsed the plates and put them in the dishwasher, then plucked me out of my chair and sat down in it himself, with me in his lap.
“What?” I asked, surprised by my perch. I’m not much for sitting on men’s laps-it strikes me as ungainly-but Wyatt was tall enough that our faces were level and his arm around my back was wonderfully supporting.
“Your dad said that when you get scared, you get mouthy. How mouthy and demanding you get is in direct proportion to how scared you are.” His big hand rubbed my back. “He said it’s how you cope until you aren’t as scared anymore.”
It’s no secret in my family, that’s for sure. I let myself lean against him. “I was petrified.”
“All except for your mouth.” He chuckled. “Here we were, conducting a search for an armed murderer, and I hear you behind the car loudly demanding a cookie.”
“I wasn’t loud.”
“You were loud. I thought I’d have to kick my men’s asses to make them stop snickering.”
“It’s tough to get my mind around the fact that someone tried to kill me. It’s impossible. Things like that just don’t happen. I live a nice, quiet life, and within the space of a few days everything has turned upside down. I want my nice, quiet life back. I want you to catch this guy, and do it now.”
“We will. We’ll get this nailed. MacInnes and Forester were working all weekend, following leads. They have a couple of good ones.”
“Is it Nicole’s boyfriend?”