Baby, Drive South (11 page)

“No.”

“That was quick. Are you sure?”

“Yes. Get this—the youngest brother fell off this water tower, so the minute I pulled into town, I had to treat a broken leg.”

Amy laughed. “That had to be some fall. Is that all he broke?”

“Yes, can you believe it? Anyway, I’ve been stuck taking care of him.”

“Hmm. Is he cute?”

Nikki ran her fingers over the soft fabric of Porter’s blue work shirt. The shirt was the same color as the man’s eyes. “Only if you like muscles, piercing blue eyes and a cleft chin.”

“Whoa—sounds promising.”

Nikki laughed. “I’m not interested. Besides, he and Rachel Hutchins are already circling each other.”

“Oh, yes. Rachel. How is she making it without a hair salon?”

Nikki laughed. “Actually, she seems to be in her element, bossing everyone around. In fact…I’m the one who’s decided not to stay.”

“Why not?”

She hesitated. “I thought by coming here I’d be able to forget about Darren and all the plans we’d made. But somehow, it only feels worse.” Tears pricked her lids and she fought to control her voice.

Amy sighed. “I thought that might happen. There’s something about being in the country, free of the distractions of technology and the hustle-bustle of a city that can make a person feel…emotional. It’s hard to explain to someone who’s never experienced it, but the mountains have their own way of seducing a person.”

“I’m starting to realize that,” Nikki said, gazing over the blue-green splendor before her.

“But don’t be deceived,” Amy said. “Rural life isn’t as romantic as it seems. And neither are those country boys.”

Cold showers, no medical facility. “I’m starting to realize that, too,” Nikki said drily. “This just isn’t the life for me.”

“So when are you coming back?”

“As soon as my van is repaired. It broke down just as I was trying to make my escape, can you believe it?”

“That is hard to believe,” Amy said, her voice suspicious.

“But Porter said he’d have someone look at it, so if it’s something minor, I might get started back today. Tomorrow at the latest.”

“Porter?”

“The youngest Armstrong brother.”

“Oh. Mr. Cleft Chin?”

Nikki laughed. “Yes. He’s waiting for me on the ground, so I guess I’d better wind this up. Is everything okay back in Broadway?”

“Fine as frog hair,” Amy said brightly. “At least you planned your trip with perfect timing.”

Nikki frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Uh-oh… I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but there was an engagement announcement in the newspaper today. Darren and his woman are tying the knot.”

12

N
ikki felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. She gripped the phone tighter. “Darren is…engaged?”

On the other end of the line, Amy Bradshaw made a disgusted sound. “Yes. But if it’s any consolation, the photo of them is ridiculous. They look like they’re going to the midlife crisis prom.”

Nikki’s head spun. She gripped the handrail of the water tower to steady herself.

“Nikki, are you okay?”

She wet her lips, found her voice. “I’m okay. I just didn’t… I mean, it’s so soon…”

“The jerk probably gave her the ring you gave back to him.”

“Threw.”

“Pardon me?”

“I actually threw the ring back at him.”

Amy laughed. “That a girl.”

Nikki laughed, too, but it was bittersweet. “Wow, I can really pick ’em.”

“Don’t blame yourself. It happens to the best of us. Maybe it would be better for you to hang out in the mountains for a few days before coming back, clear your head.”

“Hey!”

Nikki’s head turned at the sound of a distant voice. Porter.

“Are you okay up there?”

“I should go,” she said into the phone. “Thanks for the advice, Amy.”

“No problem. Take care.”

Nikki disconnected the call, then made her way back around the platform to the ladder and looked down.

Porter waved up at her. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” she called. “Just a few more minutes.”

“Take your time,” he said through cupped hands. “I’m having a blast down here with the bugs.” He swatted at the air like a windmill, nearly falling off his crutches.

She smiled and her heart lifted—a little. Then she reminded herself that Porter Armstrong was only trying to make up for the things he’d said about her yesterday.

Things about the sad state of her love life that were more true than even he knew.

Nikki turned away and quickly checked her email account. The only message of significance was from her former employer Dr. Hannah, saying how much they missed her in the practice and reminding her that the door was always open if she wanted to come back. Good to know. Nikki didn’t respond, but saved the message.

She started for the ladder, then remembered the forgotten work shirt and went back to get it. Without a place to stuff it, and afraid it would be in her way if she tied it around her waist, she pulled on the shirt and rolled up the sleeves, then began her descent.

The climb down seemed to go faster, and before she realized it, she was out of rungs. She was planning to drop to the ground, but suddenly a strong arm wrapped around her waist and lowered her to the ground. She tried to disentangle herself from Porter Armstrong as quickly as possible, but a full-body slide was unavoidable.

And the friction between her pliable frame and his hard physique was not unpleasant.

“Hey, that’s my shirt,” Porter said.

“I figured as much,” she said, shrugging out of it.

“Keep it. It looks good on you,” he said with a wave.

“It swallows me whole.”

“It looks…cute,” he said, reaching forward to pluck a small blossom out of her hair. “Windy up there?”

“Yes,” she said, warming under his touch. “What kind of flower is that?”

“Mountain laurel,” he said, handing it back to her. It looked like a small umbrella in her palm. “It’s all over these mountains.”

“It’s pretty,” she murmured. “Like the view up there.”

He nodded. “It’s grand, isn’t it? And did you get a good cell signal?”

“Yes. I was able to make a phone call and check my messages.”

“Everything okay?”

She looked up, wondering if the fact that she’d been delivered an emotional blow was written all over her face. “Everything’s fine,” she lied.

His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t question her. “Ready to head back?”

“Yes. I’d like to talk to that mechanic about my van.”

“Sure thing,” he agreed, then led the way back to the four-wheeler.

“You are very proficient on those crutches,” she remarked.

“This ain’t my first rodeo,” he said with a little laugh.

Nikki pressed her lips together, debating whether to pry. She wasn’t going to be here long enough for details about this man to matter. “I noticed the shrapnel scars when I examined your leg.”

He didn’t respond, and it was hard to decipher his expression.

“In what branch of the military did you serve?” she pressed.

“Army.”

“Iraq?”

“Afghanistan.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“I’m not. I was proud to be there.”

“I’m sure you were,” she said. “I meant I’m sorry for what you must have gone through. I’ve worked with veterans.”

“It was bad,” he agreed. “But not as bad as what the people who live there deal with. Every day I’m grateful to be here on this land.”

“I’m sure,” she said, with a growing appreciation for the attachment Porter Armstrong and his brothers had to these mountains. Nikki caught sight of something glinting through the dirt and leaves at her feet, and crouched to investigate.

“What’ve you got there?” Porter asked, stopping.

She brushed away bits of debris and used her fingers to dig out the dirt-covered item that was attached to a chain.

“It’s a pocket watch,” Porter said with a smile. “Good eye.”

“Someone must’ve dropped it while they were walking around up here.” She handed it to him.

“Maybe,” he agreed, rubbing at the dirt and peering closer. “Or maybe it was carried up here by the tornado. We find things every day that were scattered by the storm—jewelry, tools, furniture, sometimes even photographs.”

“Is there any way we can find its rightful owner?”

He gave her a smile. “We can try. It’s time you met Colonel Molly. Let’s go.”

During the ride back down on the four-wheeler, Nikki tried to hold herself away from Porter’s broad back, but gravity pressed her against him. She didn’t want to like the feel of her hands around his waist. She didn’t want to like anything about this man—or any man, for that matter. The news of Darren’s engagement to the young dancer he’d cheated on her with reverberated in her head, returning the echoes of
How dumb could you be? Men don’t fall for women like you. Men want a sex bomb by their side and in their bed
…

She’d never had time to date when she was in medical school, or during her residency. She’d become accustomed to eating alone and sleeping alone. When attorney Darren Rocha had stopped by the practice where she worked in Broadway with flu symptoms, they’d connected on an intellectual level and their relationship had slowly developed from there. The night Darren had proposed, she distinctly remembered lying awake next to him thinking how happy she was, and feeling as if it was all too good to be true.

In hindsight, it had been.

Suddenly Porter’s hand covered hers. “You okay back there?” he called over his shoulder.

She instinctively pulled her hand out from under his. “I’m fine,” she said, more sharply than she intended.

To have someone you trusted betray you so thoroughly and so publicly, was excruciating. But far worse was knowing she couldn’t trust her own judgment where men were concerned. They all had an angle that would be revealed in time.

After a few minutes, the slope of the terrain leveled out and the roof of the boardinghouse came into view. Porter steered the ATV back into its parking place and killed the engine. Nikki climbed off, relieved to be away from him. But her mind still reeled and her hands were shaking from Amy’s pronouncement, leaving her fumbling with the strap on her helmet.

“Let me help you with that,” Porter said.

She protested, but he brushed her fingers aside and, leaning on his crutches with his elbows, deftly unfastened the strap. She avoided eye contact, staring studiously at the cleft in his chin. A cleft chin was actually a bone deformity, resulting from the imperfect fusion of the left and right sides of the jaw during fetal development.

But it was an appealing deformity.

“Thank you for the ride,” she said stiffly, then pulled off her helmet.

“No problem, little lady doc.” He lifted her chin with his finger. “Did something happen on the water tower?”

His voice sounded gentle, but she reminded herself that this man felt sorry for her. He’d basically admitted to his brothers that he’d kissed her out of pity.

She yanked her chin away. “Nothing to concern yourself about. You were going to introduce me to someone named Molly?”

“Right,” he said, then headed in the direction of the dining hall. “Colonel Molly McIntyre grew up here, but left to join the Army. She retired after thirty years and when she heard we needed someone to feed our crew, she signed on to run our diner.”

“So the men take every meal here?” Nikki asked, gesturing to the long, industrial building.

“Unless we do something special, like the barbecue last night, which we try to do as often as we can.” He winced as he held open the door with a crutch. “Molly runs an organized ship—but she’s a terrible cook.”

That made Nikki smile. “So you’re bringing me here for a bad meal?”

“Molly’s been doing one other thing for the town,” he said, following her inside.

Nikki took in the no-frills dining hall—a long serving counter up front where food was chosen or served cafeteria style, and rows of hand-hewn wooden tables and benches. Inside were a few stragglers who looked less than enthusiastic about the breakfast they were eating.

“This doesn’t look like a diner,” she felt compelled to say.

“We have big plans,” Porter said with a grin. “Which you’ll hear all about if you come to the town meeting.”

A stocky woman wearing a camouflage apron stood behind the serving counter, checking an enormous conveyor dishwasher. Porter waved to get her attention.

Molly walked toward them, drying her hands, a stern look on her face. “Kitchen’s closed until lunch, soldier.”

Porter gestured to his leg. “Come on, Colonel. I’m wounded here—and starving. You can’t rustle up something special for me?”

“No. And don’t go winking those big blue eyes of yours. You know your sweet-talkin’ ways are wasted on me.”

Nikki smothered a smile. She was inclined to like this woman.

Porter sighed, then turned to Nikki. “Molly, I’d like to introduce Dr. Nikki Salinger. Dr. Salinger patched me up.”

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Salinger. I’m Molly McIntyre.” Molly stuck out a sturdy hand, which Nikki shook.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

“You’re not one of those vegetarians, are you?” the woman asked suspiciously.

“Er…no,” Nikki said, then turned over the woman’s hand and pointed to a red rash. “Contact dermatitis, I’m guessing from the dish soap. Are you treating it?”

“Doc Riley gave me a lotion he made out of blueberry leaves.”

Nikki pursed her mouth. “If the itching continues, you might want to see a real doctor for a steroid cream.”

Molly was unfazed. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

“Dr. Salinger made an interesting find this morning up by the water tower,” Porter said, then pulled out a bandanna he’d wrapped around the pocket watch and handed it over to Molly. “Do you mind if I show her the property room?”

Molly’s face lit up as she inspected the watch. “Go ahead. I’ll get this piece cleaned up.”

Porter led the way through a rear exit of the dining hall. A few yards away sat a large, long metal building with a combination lock on the door. He punched in a number, then pushed open the door and flipped on a light.