Catch a Falling Star (14 page)

“I apologize for being late again, Heath.” Kendall faced away from him as he helped her slip on her paprika-colored wool coat. The man knew how to treat a woman with quiet respect.

“I'm a doctor, too. If anyone understands about a clinic running late, it's me.” He stepped outside her back door, waiting while she locked up, and then walked beside her downstairs, his hand on the small of her back. “Besides, it gave me a chance to catch up on emails.”

The touch of the cool night air began to ease some of the tension from Kendall's temples. She'd caught only glimpses of the outside while she sat in her office writing notes and then dashed to her loft to change for dinner. Sully sulked in his corner, not at all pleased at a quick walk around back.

“Let's look on the bright side.” Kendall finished buttoning her coat. “We avoided the first rush of people for dinner at P. F. Chang's.”

“If there's one thing I've learned about eating out in the Springs, there's always a wait on Friday nights.” Heath guided her to his black Hummer.

Oh. Sounded like she wasn't the first woman going out on a date with Dr. Heath Parker. Which was fine. Absolutely fine.

“Or so I've been told.” He used the keyless entry to unlock the car, once again opening the door for her and waiting while she settled herself in the passenger seat.

Kendall watched him walk around to the driver's side. In a casual pair of slacks and a dark brown leather jacket over a cream-colored turtleneck sweater, Heath looked confident yet relaxed. And who knew a guy with her dad's old-fashioned manners still existed? She waited while he settled into the driver's seat before resuming their conversation.

“How's house hunting going?”

“Nothing so far.” Heath turned the car toward the Shops at Briargate. “Supposedly it's still a buyer's market, but my Realtor hasn't shown me anything I've fallen in love with. It's the Goldilocks syndrome:
This one's too big. This one's too small.
I know the
saying, ‘It only takes one,' but I haven't found my ‘just right' one yet.”

“It must get old, living out of your suitcase.”

“I've traveled so much the last five years that I'm used to it. I think the real adjustment is going to be when I have more than a few shirts and a couple pairs of pants hanging in a closet, much less a house full of furniture.”

“How long were you overseas?”

“Five years.” Heath adjusted the heat and then turned the radio on low so that a soft melody underscored their conversation. “Before that I was finishing up my master's in public health and tropical medicine at Tulane.”

“Do you like being stateside?”

“Yep. There are definite advantages to being here in the Springs.” The allusion to a compliment, coupled with the way Heath tossed a grin her way, warmed Kendall. The man was easy to like.

Heath turned the conversation to small talk all the way to the restaurant, entertaining her with stories of life in Africa. The wait for a table was minimal, and before long they sat in a booth ladling bits of savory chicken into lettuce leaves and waiting for their main courses.

“I wonder—oh, never mind.” Heath focused his attention on folding a lettuce leaf over the filling he'd scooped inside.

Kendall swallowed the bite of appetizer. “What is it, Heath?”

“I don't want to impose, but I could use your help with something.”

“Well, ask. I'll let you know if I can't help you.”

“I'm considering raising funds for the organization by selling some products from Kenya. Things made by women—mostly single moms. Jewelry. Baskets. That kind of thing.” He motioned for her to help herself to some more shredded chicken. “I
need to have several boxes of sample items shipped here. Three, maybe four boxes. I'm actively house hunting and I'm not certain how long I'll be at the hotel. I'm not sure when the boxes will arrive—you know what overseas mail can be like. I'd hate to have the boxes get lost because I'm moving around. Would you mind if I had them shipped to your office?”

Sounded simple enough. “That wouldn't be a problem at all.”

“Really? Kendall, thank you so much.”

She waved off his thanks. “It's no big deal. I'll let my receptionist know to expect them.”

“It may take a few weeks. Just let me know when they arrive and I'll come over right away and get them out of your way.”

“Where are you in putting your organization together? I mean, what's your plan of action, if you don't mind me asking?”

“I don't mind you asking at all.” Heath paused as the waiter stopped beside their table with their entrées. She'd convinced him to try one of her favorite dishes—a chicken, melon, and walnut mixture in a sweet sauce—and she hoped to conquer his skepticism.

“I'm putting together my board now—mostly other medical professionals with overseas experience, but I've included a lawyer so that I properly walk through all the red tape. And my Realtor is also looking for an office space—nothing as nice as yours. I'm trying to keep costs down.”

“I wouldn't have managed my building, except for an inheritance from my grandmother. I'd invested it for several years—and it paid off well.” Kendall scooped brown rice onto her plate. “And doing the combo home and office means I'm only paying the one mortgage.”

“If I was a smart man, I'd have you on my board, too.” Heath paused with his chopsticks midway to his mouth. “Wait. I am a smart man. Why don't you come to the next board meeting?”

Kendall stared at him over the rim of her glass of Merlot. “Just because I agreed to let you ship a few boxes to my office doesn't mean you have to invite me to a board meeting, Heath.”

“That's not it at all. Look, I know you're busy with your practice, so I'm not asking for a long-term commitment—yet.” Heath paused to finish off a bit of melon. “But I'd love for you to sit in on the next meeting, get a better understanding of my vision. Tell me what you think. And then, if it's something you'd be interested in getting involved with, let me know.”

“I have to admit, that's an intriguing proposition.”

“The next meeting is in a couple of weeks. I'll call you with the time. We're meeting at the Craftwood Inn over in Manitou.”

“Ve-ery nice. That's reason enough to say yes.”

“Ah, I can see you're not above being bribed, Dr. Haynes.” Heath's chuckle disappeared as his face turned serious. “No, really, one of the reasons I would love to have you involved is because your reputation precedes you.”

“There's no need for flattery, Heath. I've already said yes.”

“This is not about flattery. You're well respected in the medical community here, Kendall, by other medical practitioners. And by your patients. That's admirable.”

“Thank you. I've worked hard to build my practice. I hope it has a good reputation.”

“One of the best.” He motioned to the entrées sitting in front of them. “This is just as good as you said. Catch up with me before I eat the rest.”

“I'm glad I didn't steer you wrong.”

“Not at all. Lead on, Kendall. I'll follow you wherever you suggest.”

Yeah, the guy was a bit on the corny side. But she liked it.

She sighed when the ping of her iPhone pulled her attention away from the man seated across from her.

“Excuse me, Heath. I'm on call. I need to get this.”

“Sure thing. Go ahead.”

Kendall walked to the front of the restaurant, slipping past the crowd of people waiting to be seated to go outside to better hear the caller. The night air wrapped her in a chilly hug, reminding her how quickly temperatures in Colorado dropped once the sun disappeared behind Pikes Peak.

“Dr. Haynes, this is Nurses on Call. I have a Griffin Walker asking to speak with you.”

Kendall paused just outside the restaurant's entrance. “Griffin Walker? Did he say what the problem was?”

“Not specifically. He said you were aware of the situation.”

Odd.

“Dr. Haynes?”

“I'm sorry. Go ahead and patch Colonel Walker through.”

Within seconds, Griffin Walker's frustration-tinged voice came over the line. “Kendall?”

“Hello, Griffin. Is Ian all right?”

“Yes, he's fine. That's not why I'm calling.”

Kendall paced in front of the restaurant, the heels of her shoes clicking on the sidewalk. Why had she left her coat inside?

“Are
you
sick?”

“No, no. I'm fine.” There was a moment's pause. “Is your offer to help with my Jeep still open?”

“Excuse me?”

“My Jeep—you offered to help me work on it.”

Kendall stopped walking, facing the restaurant. Inside—back where it was warm—sat Heath Parker. And here—outside where it was so cold her teeth were chattering—she stood talking to a man who didn't even like her.

“You called the emergency line to talk to me about your Jeep?”

“I didn't know how else to reach you. Look, I've spent the last four hours fighting with a universal joint. Right now, the universal joint is winning.”

Kendall tried to contain the laughter that burst past her lips, but she couldn't.

“Fine. Laugh at a man when he's down. I'm desperate. You said you had an arsenal full of tools. You wouldn't happen to have a disc grinder, would you?”

“You realize this does not constitute a medical emergency, Griffin.”

“If you spent the last four hours working on your Jeep with nothing to show for it but some bloody knuckles and a head full of words you're struggling not to say, you'd be more sympathetic. What happened to your loyalty to another Jeep comrade?”

She decided not to make the man grovel. Besides, she was freezing. “It just so happens I have a disc grinder. And I'd be happy to bring it over tomorrow. Is that soon enough?”

“Yes. I concede the battle with the beast tonight.” The man sounded worn down, his voice ragged. “I stripped one of the bolts and now I've got to cut it off with a grinder—which I don't have.”

“It's no problem. I think my dad owned every tool ever made.”

“I'm so frustrated right now, I could almost sell this thing. But hey, it's—”

“It's a Jeep. I know.”

Their laughter mingled together over the phone.

“I'm abandoning my garage and getting a shower—and then I'm going to order a Meat Lover's pizza and watch a movie. Something where we win the war.”

“Sounds like your best option. I'll be over around eight tomorrow to rescue you. Sound good?”

“Make it nine. No need to get up early.”

“I don't have a choice about that, Griffin. Sully's the early riser in the family. G'night.”

“Good night, Kendall. And thanks.”

She double-stepped it back into the restaurant, her fitted skirt hindering her attempts to get back inside and thaw off.

Imagine that. She had a mostly friendly conversation with Griffin Walker. And he asked for her help.

Huh. Miracles still happened.

“I should have called you sooner.”

Griffin looked across the garage to where Kendall sat on the middle step that led back into the house. She wore a pair of scuffed blue cowboy boots, faded jeans, and a long-sleeved red henley top. All in all, the woman looked about sixteen years old—and cute, even with a streak of grease across her chin. As she took a sip of water from the bottle he'd gotten for her, he noticed her hands were also marred with grease.

At his admission, Kendall raised the water bottle in a mock salute. “True.”

“Now, was that nice?” He wiped his hands on a piece of old towel, being careful not to displace the Band-Aids on his knuckles, and then tossed it into a white plastic bucket in the corner of the garage near the snow shovel.

“I just agreed with you.”

Griffin walked over to the spare fridge he kept in the garage, searching among the assorted sodas and bottled waters and selecting a Mountain Dew. It wasn't as if he needed an extra fridge. The one inside the house was never more the one-third full. Milk. Eggs. Bread. Lunch meat. Lettuce and tomatoes that
spoiled. Oranges that usually shriveled up. And after Ian's near-death episode, he stopped buying avocados and bananas. Some days it was easier to skip the produce section of the grocery store altogether.

He sat on the cement floor in front of Kendall, unable to prevent a groan from slipping out. “Thanks for the help.”

“It wasn't me. It was the grinder. And maybe the coffee I brought along.”

Griffin twisted off the bottle cap, holding the cold bottle up to his forehead. “That, too. But don't downplay your part. You do know Jeeps.”

“I thought we settled that on the side of I-25.”

When she tossed him a wink, he chuckled. “So, didn't you say your dad and you rebuilt your CJ5?”