Baby, Drive South (21 page)

She gave him a coy smile. “Take a bite and tell me how good it is.”

Porter stumbled, but caught himself on one of his crutches.

Rachel laughed and held up a sandwich. “Of my chicken salad, silly.”

Porter gave a little laugh of relief, feeling foolish as he lowered himself to the blanket. When he’d accepted Rachel’s invitation, hadn’t he been hoping they’d roll around on the ground most of the afternoon? But that had been before Nikki…before he’d known how quickly the little lady doc could go from cold to smoldering, like a piece of dry tinder. Before he’d known how her small, supple hands could send his body temperature soaring like the sun…that her mouth would leave him breathless.

“You don’t like chicken salad?”

He turned his head to see Rachel extending a sandwich. He gave himself a mental shake and smiled. “I like it fine,” he said, then took the sandwich. “Thank you. I’m happy to get a break from Molly’s cooking.”

She made a face. “Things at the dining hall are improving. She agreed to let some of the women help her with the food preparation and make the place a little more attractive, more like a restaurant.”

“Really? That’s good.” He accepted a chicken salad sandwich and took a bite. He smiled until a strange flavor hit his tongue, but maintained his expression until he swallowed. “Um, that’s…different. But good,” he added quickly.

Rachel beamed. “I add cinnamon to the mayonnaise. I’m glad you like it.”

He kept nodding and took a bigger bite. Best to get it eaten as quickly as possible. He noticed she wasn’t indulging in her “secret ingredient” chicken salad, instead picking at a fruit cup in deference to being vegetarian.

Today, he wouldn’t have minded being vegetarian.

In between bites, he asked, “So how’s the media room coming along? I saw the TV antenna going up.”

Rachel nodded. “And the new computers are hooked up. A router is being installed. Hopefully, Sweetness will be fully wired within a few days. The women can’t wait to be connected with the outside world again.”

It suddenly occurred to him that this woman, too, had left a life behind. “Do you miss Broadway?”

“Not now that I’ve decided to stay.”

“Just like that?”

She shrugged. “Why spend your life second-guessing decisions? It gets you nowhere. I’m here and I’m committed to helping you and your brothers turn Sweetness into the town you envision. I have all kinds of ideas.”

Porter finished eating his odd-tasting sandwich and listened to the woman describe in detail how she could see the town’s retail environment grow—from groceries to hospitality. Porter’s mind started to wander when a wet tickle on his foot startled him. The pug was licking his exposed foot as if he might devour it. Porter squirmed and tried to shoo him away, hoping Rachel would notice. But the woman was immersed in her animated monologue. When she reached into the picnic basket, Porter expected her to pull out a binder of business plans. Instead she pulled out another sandwich and extended it to him.

“A big guy like you, I know you have a big appetite to match.” She batted her lashes.

Loath to eat more of the strange chicken salad—or acknowledge her innuendo—he held up his hand. “I couldn’t.”

She looked hurt. “You didn’t like it?”

“Of course I liked it,” he lied. But he felt like a heel for seeming unappreciative on top of not wanting to be there, so he smiled and took the sandwich. “I just didn’t want to seem greedy.”

Rachel lit up and continued to talk about the plans she had for the town. Porter listened patiently and got rid of the sandwich by sneaking a few bites to her dog to divert the pug from his wet, itchy foot. Nigel wolfed down the food like a starved stray.

When another hour passed and Rachel was still talking about building a gondola ride that would take tourists above the mountain views, Porter realized he’d underestimated her. She was more than just a pretty face. The woman had ambition—the kind of ambition the fledgling town needed.

She was beautiful, she was driven and she was dedicated to making Sweetness her home. So why couldn’t he get excited about Rachel? Why was he instead tied in knots over the slip of a woman doctor who was here only because he’d sabotaged her van?

Suddenly Rachel stopped. “I
am
boring you now. I’m sorry about going on and on.”

“No, it’s fine,” he said. “I’m glad you’re excited about our plans. We’re lucky to have you here.”

She leaned in and made a doodle on the back of his hand with a manicured fingernail. “There are other things in Sweetness that excite me.”

Porter’s mouth went dry. The woman packed a powerful physical punch with her golden hair and big blue eyes…but his stomach still churned over leaving Nikki high and dry. A loud bark pierced the air, claiming Rachel’s attention.

She turned to her pug. “Do you need to take a walk?” She looked back to Porter and shook her head. “Even in all this wilderness, he has to be on a leash or he can’t go.” She grabbed a leash and stood, brushing off her short shorts, then cooed to the pooch, who waddled over to be hooked up. “I’ll be right back,” she said with a promise in her smile.

Porter nodded, then exhaled in relief that the awkward moment had been interrupted. He jammed his fingers through his hair—he had to think of something to get out of this situation without hurting the woman’s feelings. He wanted to check on the injured doe…and he desperately wanted to see Nikki. In hindsight, he should’ve never left her with the wild animal. If it regained consciousness, it could injure her in an attempt to escape.

Porter began to repack their picnic leftovers. He’d manufacture a work issue or a minor emergency, something that required his attention. He stopped to rub his stomach, which was starting to feel decidedly queasy. Now eager to get back, he pushed to his feet and awkwardly refolded the picnic blanket. He looked up to see Rachel returning with her pug.

“Must’ve been a false alarm,” she said brightly, “but he’s acting strange. I’ve never seen him try to eat grass before.” When she noticed their picnic had been packed, her face fell. “We’re leaving?”

“I’m afraid so,” he said. “Marcus needs for me to check on a work crew.”

“Okay. I don’t think Nigel is feeling well anyway. Maybe it’s the heat.”

To punctuate her statement, her pug made an unholy noise, then proceeded to throw up at their feet.

Porter winced and swung back on his crutches. “I’m not feeling so great myself. Did the chicken salad sit out before you packed it? It might have gone bad.”

Rachel looked offended. “It only sat out while I was waiting for you. But Nigel didn’t have any.”

“Yes, he did,” he said with remorse. “I fed him some of my sandwich.”

She looked distressed, swooped down to cuddle her dog close. “Oh, no.”

A wave of nausea shuddered through Porter forcing him to lean on his crutches to stay upright. “Let’s get back, pronto.”

“Nikki will know what to do,” Rachel said, clutching her pet.

Porter was filled with dread that overrode the sickness swirling through his body.

He was sure Nikki would do everything in her power to help the dog, but she just might let
him
perish this time.

He drove back to town in record time, swallowing hard against his roiling stomach every time the four-wheeler hit a bump. When he pulled up in front of the boardinghouse, he urged Rachel to go on ahead instead of waiting for him to get his crutches. But she could see he was weak himself and insisted on helping him inside.

“Nikki!” Rachel shouted, raising the alarm before they reached her office.

Nikki came out in the hallway, her expression wary. “What’s wrong?”

“Nigel and Porter might have food poisoning.”

“From what?” Nikki asked.

“Chicken salad.”

“Nigel in there,” Nikki said, pointing to her office. “Write down all the ingredients in the chicken salad. I’ll take Porter into the room next door.”

When Nikki took Rachel’s place under Porter’s shoulder, he was relieved, chagrined and embarrassed at the same time. “I’m sorry, little lady doc.”

But her body language was all business. “Save your strength,” she said, then ushered him into an adjacent empty bedroom and urged him to lie on the bed.

“I feel lousy,” he muttered, happy to recline on the cool sheets.

“You’ll feel better once you throw up,” she offered, then propped his crutches nearby and positioned a trash can close to the bedside.

“I mean about earlier.”

“Can’t help you there,” she said breezily, still not making eye contact. “But if you have food poisoning, it should work its way through your body in a day or two.”

Frustration welled in his chest at his inability to communicate how guilty he felt about putting the moves on her before. “Are you going to stick around that long?”

She finally looked at him, leveling him with a wry stare from those gorgeous green eyes. “Who else is going to take care of your deer?” She adjusted his pillow. “I’ll be right back.”

Porter watched her leave, and something akin to wonder descended over him. His chest squeezed painfully with an emotion unlike anything he’d ever felt before. But before he could name it, a cramp assailed him.

Good,
he thought as he leaned over to empty the contents of his stomach into the trash can. The alien feeling had simply been a symptom of his illness.

It would be gone in a day or two.

23

“I
feel well enough to drive you to the water tower,” Porter insisted from the doorway of the side entrance of the boardinghouse.

Nikki took in his pale face and how heavily he leaned on his crutches as she tested the feel of the handgrips on the four-wheeler. After forty-eight hours of being in close quarters with Porter Armstrong, nursing him back from food poisoning, she was ready to be away from him. And it had nothing to do with the sickness—
that
she was trained to handle with a clinical detachment. It was the way her pulse picked up when she touched his feverish forehead, the anxiety that gripped her when his body convulsed from the violent retching and the fantasies she spun when she watched him sleep that concerned her. The attachment she was developing to this man felt dangerously familiar…and she wanted no part of it. Not after what had almost happened between them and how it had ended.

“You should rest for at least another day,” Nikki said. “And someone has to keep an eye on the animals while I’m gone.”

“I’ll help,” Rachel said, emerging to stand next to Porter. She put a proprietary hand on his arm. “I was just going to check on my sweet Nigel. I’ll make sure that Porter stays in bed.”

Nikki took perverse pleasure from seeing Porter squirm. At least the cad had enough of a conscience to feel awkward about bouncing from Nikki’s arms to Rachel’s the day he’d brought in the wounded deer. Visualizing what they’d probably been doing on their “picnic” before Rachel had accidentally poisoned him made it easier for Nikki to keep her distance. She gave the couple a cheerful smile. “Sounds like everything is under control. I’ll be back soon.” She pulled on a helmet and buckled it under her chin.

“How are you going to get up the ladder?” he asked.

Remembering how he boosted her to the bottom rung before sent unwanted sensations through her midsection. “I’ll manage.”

Porter took a half step closer. “Go slow. And tackle that last climb on a diagonal rather than head on.”

She nodded, then pushed the ignition button to fire up the engine.

“Use the two-way radio if you run into trouble,” he shouted. “And be careful climbing the ladder!”

Nikki ignored him and goosed the gas. After a couple of lurching false-starts, she steered the four-wheeler toward the path that would take her up to the water tower.

Her adrenaline climbed as the vehicle ascended the incline. The vibration of the engine resonated through her body, keening her senses. The dank scent of moss and soil permeated her lungs, along with the fragrances of grass and flowers. Her allergies seemed to have calmed a bit, although she was sure it had nothing to do with the licorice candy she’d been ingesting and everything to do with the massive doses of antihistamines she’d been taking. The fresh air felt good on her face.

The trees on either side of the path were practically pulsating with life—heavy with leaves and nuts and birds and squirrels. Blooming bushes bowed underneath the weight of bumblebees. The sun was high and searing, infiltrating the canopy of trees to spill onto the rocky path in front of her. Heeding Porter’s warnings, she slowed her ascent as the climb became steeper, but the thought of the man made her tense in anger.

At herself.

For letting him get to her the day he’d brought in the wounded animal, for believing for one second that they shared a connection or that a physical encounter would make her feel better about anything.

Like being dumped by Darren.

Instead, the encounter had made her feel worse, had reinforced her feelings that men only wanted her for what they could have at the moment. And she’d nearly violated her professional ethics by getting involved with a patient. She needed to get away to clear her head, and she couldn’t think of a better place than the water tower.

Besides, she wanted to talk to her former boss, Dr. Hannah, and she was missing her friend Amy. The other women from Broadway were settling into Sweetness and making it their home. She longed to talk to someone from the outside, someone who could reassure her she didn’t belong here.

Twenty minutes later, Nikki took the last incline on the diagonal and leaned forward on the four-wheeler, applying steady throttle as the engine whined to eat up the ground. When the wheels began to spin, she panicked she was going to be stuck, but the tires suddenly caught traction and popped the four-wheeler up over the rise and onto level ground.

She slowed the ATV and pulled it to a stop beneath the ladder, then cut the engine and removed her helmet. The sudden silence was jarring. Nikki had felt alone many times in her life, but she’d never felt quite as isolated as she did at that moment.