Nick Of Time (Blue Ridge Romance 2) (8 page)

She made a noise somewhere between a yell and a groan as he went back to his seat. She was trying to keep her cool, knowing Tucker did these kinds of things for attention. The same as he’d done when he was a kid.

“If I can’t interest you in the nap thing, maybe you could keep it down so you don’t disturb mine.” He grinned at her and then covered his face with the towel.

She left the pool area, dripping and pissed off.

“I can’t believe I was stupid enough to think he was an adult. That immature mother fu—”

“Nichole Christina Atherton!”

Nichole knew the voice, and for a moment she hoped if she simply didn’t turn around she could pretend her mother wasn’t standing right behind her.

“What on earth are you doing, dripping wet and cursing like a drunken sailor? Have you no respect for your family’s reputation?”

Her mother always used those words,
family’s reputation
, which made no sense. The only family they had was the two of them, and they didn’t even share the same last name, let alone social circles.

She wanted to argue, but she knew it was no use.

“I fell in. I’m going to go take a shower and then change into dry clothes. Why are you here so early? The wedding isn’t until three.”

“Nettie Levine asked me to carpool with her, being one of Cooper’s former clients when she divorced Roger. He got her a nice settlement on that one, let me tell you.” Her mother nodded in approval. “Anyway, I don’t carpool. So I told her I needed to come up early to have brunch with you. So go get dressed and meet me downstairs so we can have brunch.”

“I just ate breakfast.”

“Well, of course you shouldn’t eat anything, dear.” The woman looked her over pointedly. “But you can keep me company and validate my story, should anyone ask.”

Who was going to ask? Poor Nettie Levine had dodged a bullet by not having to spend an hour in a car with Nichole’s mother and she didn’t even know it.

Despite her desire to crawl into a hole until it was time for the wedding, Nichole showered and put on a pair of khakis and yet another sweater. She picked up her phone—thank God she hadn’t been carrying it earlier—and checked in with the clinic as she went downstairs. Her mother was waiting for her in the lounge with a plate of fruit and an extravagant Bloody Mary.

“Nichole,” her mother called and waved her over. Too late to get away now.

T
ucker was pissed.

Not at the mother who had taken over the pool area with her five little rug rats who were splashing and screaming at a very intense volume.

And not at Nichole for what she’d said about Cooper loving her more. Hell, he knew it was probably true. His brother would do anything for Nichole with a smile on his face, while Tucker was no more than an annoyance.

He was mad at himself for not dealing with this before now. He went to therapy once a week, and they had touched on his feelings of inadequacy regarding his older brother, but so far he hadn’t been able to open up about his jealousy and anger toward Nichole.

He’d thought he was over it after he’d had tons of sex with her earlier this week, but it had surfaced in a fury and he’d done something stupid.

He’d dropped her in the pool like a teenager.

And now he would need to apologize.

He called Cooper.

“Yeah?” Coop answered, sounding a little out of breath. There was no way Tucker would ask why.

“Can you give me Nichole’s cell number? I need to find her,” he said as one of the kids in the pool shrieked and splashed water in his direction.

“Why?” Cooper asked.

“Just text me the number, Cooper. I’m not in the mood,” he said before he hung up.

To his surprise, Cooper sent it a few seconds later.

Tucker took a long moment, trying to come up with something clever yet heartfelt to say. She deserved an apology, and he was going to give her one of his best. He’d gotten really good at apologies over the last year. He’d had to give them out to everyone he’d hurt during his rehabilitation. There’d been a lot of people who had gotten caught up in the tidal wave of his destruction.

His mom and Cooper had been the biggest casualties. They’d wanted to help, but there was nothing they could do. It made all of them frustrated and tense.

As he was getting ready to dial the number, he heard a different kind of shrieking by the pool. He looked up to see the mother screaming and pointing. Then Tucker spotted the little boy lying motionless at the bottom of the pool.

Without a second thought, Tucker jumped in and grabbed the boy’s arm, hoping the kid was playing. But as he pushed him up on the cement he couldn’t help but notice how blue the kid’s lips were. This was real.

“Oh my God! He’s not breathing!” the mother wailed in Tucker’s ear while he tried to remember what to do.

It had been so long since he’d taken CPR. He knew he needed to clear the airway, and something about chest compressions. But wasn’t there something different you had to do for babies? Was this kid considered a baby? Had they switched the order of chest compressions and then breathing? Why did he have a vague memory of a Bee Gees song?

“Shit!” he said, feeling helpless and stupid. Then he remembered he had access to a doctor. He ran over to where he’d dropped his phone and let the call go through.

 

Only because she was in desperate need to get away from her mother did Nichole answer her phone when it rang. She didn’t recognize the number, but even if it was a telemarketer, she could pretend to be interested. Anything to get her out of this conversation about how her mother had read about a center in Idaho where they were able to cure “the gays,” and how maybe there was still hope for her and Dennis.

“Hello?”

“Nic, it’s me,” Tucker said, sounding winded. “I need you by the pool. A kid drowned; I’m not making this up. Please come right away.”

Only as she was running down the hallway toward the pool did she even consider this still might be a prank. If it was, she was going to walk up and knee him right in the nuts.

She only vaguely heard her mother following behind, yelling at her to slow down. Apparently, running wasn’t ladylike even in an emergency.

When she pulled open the door to the pool she was met by a rush of yelling and crying. Then her gaze locked with Tucker’s, and all the sound fell away with that desperate look.

Years of training kicked in as she ran around to the other side of the pool and took in the small boy, probably no more than three or four. The mother was holding him up and patting his back forcefully.

Nichole took him from his mother’s grasp and lay him flat on the cement. She heard Tucker assure the woman that Nichole was a doctor as she bent to listen for breath sounds. She wasn’t surprised when she didn’t hear anything.

She interlocked her fingers and placed them over his tiny chest. Thirty compressions as she hummed the Bee Gees’ “Stayin’ Alive.”

After a quick sweep of his mouth for obstructions, she sealed her lips over his while pinching his tiny nose and blew in two deep breaths of air. When his chest lifted she was certain his airway was clear.

She went back to compressions as she heard Tucker on the phone with 911. He was telling them a doctor was performing CPR, and it took her a second to realize he was talking about her. There were still times when she forgot she really was a doctor. Especially when faced with a severe trauma she didn’t feel capable of handling. But somehow her instincts took over and she was able to do her job.

Part of her brain was still doing CPR as another part of her mind calculated how far away the nearest ambulance might be. They were in the middle of nowhere, but she wouldn’t underestimate local EMTs and firefighters.

It was during her third round of chest compressions that the little boy choked and made a small moaning sound.

Nichole had him on his side in a second as a torrent of water came out, along with his breakfast. Then he started to cry.

His lips were already turning a normal color as she moved back, letting his mother comfort him.

Her hands had been rock steady while she was working on him, but now she noticed they were shaking badly.

While his mother held him, she reached over and held his chin so she could look at his pupils in the light. They seemed reactive and normal, which was a good sign.

“I think he’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” the mother cried.

“Yeah, thanks,
Dr. Atherton
,” Tucker said while rubbing her shoulder. “You were awesome.”

“Please,” Nichole’s mother scoffed behind her. “She went to a Yankee school. She’s barely a doctor.”

Nichole saw something in Tucker’s eyes she’d never seen before. She found herself cringing and was relieved that he wasn’t focusing that glare on her.

“She’s a damn fine doctor and she just saved a little boy’s life. Could
you
do that, Mrs. Welles?”

Tucker had used the wrong name. Maybe he didn’t know her newest one, or maybe he did and just wanted to piss her off.

“It’s Mrs. Roth now.”

“Whatever. Why don’t you go find your next husband and let the doctor take care of things here? You’re kind of in the way right now,” he dismissed her.

There was nothing that offended her mother more than being dismissed as unimportant.

A twist of fear followed by glee filled Nichole’s chest as her mother turned in her four-hundred-dollar shoes and huffed off without another word.

Nichole looked back at Tucker, who was smiling at her.

“I’m going to apologize to you later for being a dick and throwing you in the pool, but now’s not the time,” he said as he patted the boy’s head with one hand and squeezed her hand with the other. “You were amazing, Nic. Really.”

When the EMTs got there, they ran his vitals and checked him over thoroughly, determining that he seemed fine but suggesting a trip to the ER just to be safe.

As the little guy was loaded onto the gurney, the mother hugged Nichole, thanking her profusely.

When everything was under control, Nichole found herself exhausted from the crash after the adrenaline rush.

“I think I might need that nap after all,” she admitted. It was almost impossible to believe it wasn’t even noon yet.

Tucker gave her a smile and pulled her toward the elevator. He followed her to her room, and when she was about to turn to say good-bye, he stepped through the opened door.

“Tucker, I’m not—”

“I know. I’m not trying anything. Honest. We’ll take a little nap and we’ll both be refreshed in time for the wedding.”

She tilted her head, unsure, but decided she was too tired to argue.

He set the alarm on both their phones, as well as the alarm clock on the nightstand, and then called down to the front desk to request a wake-up call.

“No way in hell I’m going to be responsible for both of us being late,” he muttered as he lay down on her bed and opened his arms in invitation.

She fell into them and closed her eyes, noticing the feel of his strong arms around her, and then she didn’t notice much else.

 

“I slept like the dead,” Tucker announced as he stretched an hour later. “How about you?”

“I feel pretty good.” She nodded. She actually felt better than good. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so soundly. Okay, maybe she could and it was last Monday, when she was lying next to Tucker after the ice storm. “You have to go.”

“Right.” He laughed and stood up to go. “Oh, hey.” He stopped and came back. “I’m really sorry about throwing you in the pool. What you said about Cooper loving you more . . . I guess I’m a little sensitive about that, and I reacted like an asshole.”

She’d never given a thought to the possibility she and Cooper might make Tucker feel like an outsider. Or maybe she had and had never cared before. She was the one who always wished she could be part of their family, and Tucker had that. She figured he was the lucky one. Maybe he didn’t know it.

“I guess no one is happy with what they have,” she said out loud without meaning to.

“Did you just figure that out?” He gave her a crooked grin. “I’ll see you for pictures. Don’t fall back to sleep.”

“I won’t. I’ll see you soon.”

After another shower, Nichole started the preparations to make herself look like a classy best man.

She put her hair back in a bun, much like the one she’d worn in her almost wedding with Dennis. A few of her red curls hung down along her neck.

As she did her makeup, she realized she hadn’t put so much effort into her appearance since that day in October, when her world had turned upside down.

It was like she’d lost part of herself. She didn’t care about the things she used to care about anymore. Some of it was good, but some of it she missed.

Like getting dressed up for a special date with Dennis. Or getting a new dress or shoes to try to get him to notice. He never had.

Now she felt like she was waiting for something. She knew there was obviously no going back, but she didn’t seem to be moving on either. She hadn’t had a date. Unless she counted the hookup with Tucker, which she was certain didn’t count.

She applied lipstick and smiled at herself.

“You’re not bad-looking. You’re a kick-ass doctor who saved a kid’s life today. You’re young. You deserve to be happy.” She nodded to herself. “Let’s find your next boyfriend tonight! You can do it.”

With the pep talk over, she slipped on her pleated white shirt and secured her bowtie before pulling on the fitted pencil skirt and jacket. She forewent the compression wear, deciding she liked breathing better than having the illusion of a smaller ass. Lastly, she slid her feet into her designer heels and stood in front of the mirror.

“You’re the best best man this side of the Mississippi.”

Her phone chirped and she picked it up to see a text from the same number Tucker had called from during the emergency.

I can’t tie this fucking tie
, it said.

Where are you?
she typed back.

She sighed and pulled open the door.

“Why didn’t you just knock?” she asked.

“I was afraid you would think I had an ulterior motive or something.”

“I still think that, even though you texted.”

She shook her head and reached up to his mangled tie.

“Thanks. I even looked it up on YouTube, but I couldn’t do it because I’m left-handed.”

She glanced up to his eyes to see if he was joking, but he seemed serious.

“How did you learn how to do this?” he asked when she’d pulled it tight and stood back.

“My dad used to wear ties for the fund-raising events my mother dragged him to.” She smiled at the memory. “He would say, ‘Nicki, never trust a man who wears a clip-on tie. It’s a sign he’s a fraud.’” She laughed and shook her head.

“He called you Nicki?” Tucker asked.

“Yes. He was the only one. My mother always insisted everyone else call me Nichole. I let my friends call me Nic because it pissed her off. But I don’t let people call my Nicki; that was for my dad.”

“I get it.” He nodded.

For a moment, she got caught in his gaze. She wavered, drifting a little bit toward him, and then with a quick blink she stepped back.

“We should get going. The limo will be waiting downstairs to take us to the cabin.”

“You look . . .” he started. She paused, waiting for him to say something vulgar. He looked her over once more and then stared at her lips. “Beautiful,” he finally said.

“Thanks. You look pretty good yourself.”

He held the door open for her so they could leave. “It’s the tie.”

It wasn’t the tie. It was everything. It was the fact that he’d shaved and fixed his hair so it looked more professional banker than performer. She found herself liking this look as much as she missed his other one.

She also liked the way his broad shoulders looked in his jacket, and she remembered rubbing her hands over them without anything in the way.

She swallowed and walked out of the room with him following behind.

“God, I love eights,” he murmured, causing Nichole to hide a smile.