ROMANCE: CLEAN ROMANCE: Summer Splash! (Sweet Inspirational Contemporary Romance) (New Adult Clean Fantasy Short Stories) (115 page)

Minister Fole was exactly his height, but a touch more broad. He had the look of an extremely active man gone somewhat to seed; his formal black shirt stretched over a slightly protruding belly, and his pants were a bit tight. He looked perfectly comfortable, however, and even the lines in his severe face seemed at home on Will's front porch. He smiled faintly.

"William," he said in a gravel-roughened voice. "I trust you know why I'm here."

"Please, come in," William said nervously, stepping back from the doorway.

Minister Fole's eyes slipped past Will to take in the wide living room, resting on the mostly empty wine bottle and half full glass. "I'd rather not."

Will bristled, annoyed. "Then can you make this quick?"
              "Certainly. Lots to do," the older man said gently. "I know you are attempting to date my daughter. Stop."

There was a tense silent. Will waited for the minister to speak again, but he stayed quiet.

"Is that it?" Will was fuming. "You're late. I told your daughter I wouldn't be dating her. This dinner is between friends, and there will be other people. There's nothing romantic between us."

"Yes, I'm sure you told her that." The minister's eyes bored into William's, and the tension in his spine heightened until he wanted to run. "But I need to make myself clear. If you go through with this, there will be consequences."

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Will snapped. The
nerve.
"I won't have you threaten me on my own property. Your daughter is an adult, and she can make her own choices. If you come back, I will call the police."
              "In this town," The minister sneered. "The police protect godly men. And let the others fall...where they may."

A shadow crossed Fole's eyes, and Will's blood ran cold.

"Stay away from me," he snarled, and stepped back, slamming the door in the man's face.

He leaned against the oak, heart racing, listening for the minister's footsteps. He heard a low, ragged laugh, and finally footfall. Then he was gone.

Needless to say, Will was more than rattled. He had two patients the next day, and the new nurse practitioner had to see one because Will was throwing up in his office. Even Cassidy texting him through the day didn't help. He raced home afterwards, warming all the side dishes and ladling them into a small buffet server. He placed fresh cut flowers throughout the house, and took pepto to calm his stomach. Sheila came early, making the main dish and a few more sides while he fretted. He was grateful to her for prattling on about Minnie and Mickey, her two Boston Terriers. It gave him something to focus on besides how terrified he'd been when the minister left the evening before. He knew he should cancel, but he had been bullied over the line, and now he was finding the stubborn streak he'd abandoned before. He was so on edge that he let out a yelp when the doorbell rang at six-thirty, and he set down the cherry pie he'd been holding.

"Go," Sheila said kindly. She heard about the minister's intrusion, and though she'd been startled and afraid when he first told her, she promised to help Will if trouble came. They'd grown very fond of each other, partially due to her maternal air. "I can handle the food."

Will took off the oven mitt and raced to the door, taking a deep breath before he opened it. He was glad he did, because he would have gasped when he saw Cassidy. She was wearing a sea green cocktail dress, knee length and flatteringly cut to show the gentle curves of her lean body. Her hair was loosely curled around her face, and a light pink gloss graced her lips. Her eyes were huge, taking in the blue collared shirt Will wore, and the black jeans he'd tried to iron three times. He felt the familiar crackle of fiery tension between them as he stepped back and she swept past him, the scent of citrus hanging in the air behind her.

She was taking in the decor, which gave William a chance to marvel at her. She was glowing, but she also seemed uneasy, as though something had ruffled her right before she walked in. She held a small box wrapped in blue paper, a neat white bow placed squarely in the middle of its top.

"Wow," she said breathily as she gazed at the thick carpet and the colorful art adorning the walls. Will resisted the urge to say
wow
as well, although he was sure it was written on his face. He suddenly felt underdressed and too stuffy simultaneously. He watched Cassidy breathe in deeply, her smooth shoulders rising as she caught the scent of roast beef and garlic potatoes from the kitchen.

"Sheila's here?" She asked softly. She walked toward him as he reached for a champagne flute next to an end table. Their fingers brushed together as he handed her the glass, and she sat down on the couch, balancing the package and glass with the poise of a ballerina.

"What's this?" Will asked, accepting the small package.

"A gift," she said simply, smiling warmly at him. She watched him remove the top, and smiled more broadly as he let out a real gasp then.

It was heavy onyx case with his name delicately inscribed across its rectangular face. He opened it, and saw that it was an incredibly well-crafted suturing kit. He picked up one of the tools, noting the fine balance and grip. This must have cost her a pretty penny. They'd texted flirtatiously about how well he stitched, but this was another story.

She was watching him closely, anxiously. "So you'll never be without," she said. She was inches away from him on the couch, and her dark eyelashes fluttered as she looked from the box to his face. "Do you like it?"

Will could only nod. He closed the case and set the box aside. Before he could talk himself out of it, he swept Cassidy into his arms for a hug. She tensed at first, and he feared he'd been too presumptuous, but she relaxed, placing one hand on the nape of his neck gently as his grip tightened. She sighed softly, and the moment grew so thick with happiness that he had to force himself to break away from her. She looked at reluctant as he did.

"Ahem," came a cough from the doorway. They both spun toward Sheila, who was grinning smugly and studying their burning faces.

"Thank you," Will said awkwardly to Cassidy, who was staring at her nails. "For the...gift." Sheila stifled a laugh.

"Food's done," she said. "But I can keep it warm for you if you wanted to do some more...gift giving."

"We're coming!" Cassidy yelped, and she leapt from the couch and ran past Sheila, who was cackling and wiping her glasses.

Will buried his face in his hands.

"It's ok, Will," Sheila said when she'd calmed down. "I understand."

You don't,
Will thought. He was trying so hard to be civil, but he was failing. He wanted something, anything, to take away the heat between them. He thought wildly about starting a fire, then he and Sheila's attention was called toward the kitchen, where Cassidy was shouting.

"No, you can't keep doing this! This is too far!" She sounded tearful, and Will's heart lurched in his chest. Her father was probably ordering her home.

"I'm not going to let you get away with this. You're dead to me! You are
not
my father!"

Sheila rushed into the kitchen, eyes wide with fear, and the doorbell rang again. Will frowned. Was minister Fole really coming to drag his daughter away from here? His blood started to boil, and his hand clenched into a fist.

The door opened on to a female police officer. She was tall and wiry, and she looked familiar, though half of the town was related, so certain noses and chins were common. Will's mind was curiously blank.

"William Stillman?" The woman said.

"Yes," Will said, feeling nauseous. "Can I help you?"

The woman held out a thick white envelope. Her eyes were behind mirrored shades, and William's own terrified face reflected back at him. "A complaint has been filed against you by one of your patients for sexual assault and battery. The victim has ordered a restraint against you, and you cannot be within five thousand feet of her home, school, or workplace."
              "What?" Will's mouth tasted like copper, and the ground swayed beneath him. "Who? I never touched---"

"The details are inside," the office cut in. "Is Cassidy Fole in? I have a request to escort her home.
Cassidy!"
She shouted the last word, projecting her voice past Will, trying to root the young woman out. What the hell was that about?

Sheila emerged from the kitchen, eyes filled with tears threatening to spill over. "She's gone out the back door!"

"What?" Will started walking toward the kitchen. The cop was backing away and murmuring into her walkie, presumably putting out an APB.

Sure enough, the back door was ajar, and the only car in the front was the idling policewoman's.

"She told me she was going home to think, but that I should ask you about the...assault?" Sheila's voice turned up cautiously at the end of the sentence, and she studied his face for a reaction.

He'd forgotten all about the envelope and the case, truthfully, as soon as he'd seen Cassidy was gone. He held up the envelope for Sheila to tear open and peer at. Her owlish face frowned as she frantically scanned the details. A needle of fear sank into his chest, ice cold, and started to melt and trickle into his bloodstream. He could lose his license.

"Clarissa Welt," Sheila said. "There's a name. Says here, five thousand feet...doctor!" Her formal nature took the forefront while she panicked, and the word came out a yelp. "Her work, school and home...you'll have to move. And move the practice. Or...close it." Her green eyes were huge and trembling.

Will ripped the paper from her hands, reading the addresses and trying to remember the lay of the town. She attended the community college, and live just outside of town, a half mile from his property. She worked at one of the gas stations, three quarters of a mile from his home. His vision started to ebb away, and his focus spiraled to a pinpoint until all he could see was the name of the woman claiming he'd harmed her. Clarissa Welt. Clarissa Welt. When had he even seen a Clarissa Welt? The name did seem familiar, so she was definitely a patient. He was ashamed, then; he was usually so proud of his ability to remember every patient he'd seen. It had been a busy week, though---

"Sheila!"

The woman jumped, and Will almost laughed in his hysteria. "Clariss Welt, when did I see her?"

"Well," Sheila thought. "Just last...no. This morning." Her brow furrowed. "She was your second patient. But you were---"

"In my office," Will said, the pressure in his head beginning to fade away. "Delia saw her, not me."

Sheila was nodding slowly. "So you couldn't have assaulted her.” She looked sad, and then determined. "I'll talk to the police for you. That must be what Cassidy was talking about. But how did she know?" Sheila was holding her glasses in her

Hands, twirling them by the arms nervously.

              "Her father," Will said immediately, bile churning in his gut. "The phone call. He was probably warning her to come home, or by dragged home by the cops. He got some poor girl to fall for whatever trash he was peddling, and got her to agree to bring charges against me. "

              "But that wouldn't work," Sheila said desperately. She couldn't ignore the corruption, but she didn't want to believe it. "The girl didn't even see you!"

              "Either she didn't tell him, or she doesn't care." He thought about the policewoman, with her heavy shades and stoic expression. "The cop is in his pocket, too. I think I saw them together at the diner, when we first met. He just wanted to put on a show good enough to scare me away from his daughter." A lump formed in his throat, and the back of his eyes burned with rage.

              "Well," Sheila said, patting his arm. "I'll stand by you. It can't be like this anymore. Even his congregation are starting to whisper."

              Will bore the comfort numbly. "I'm going to see her," he decided. He walked back into the house, Sheila trotting after him. The food was on the table, completely forgotten. He picked up his keys and headed toward the door. "Stay here, please, Sheila. I shouldn't be long."

              He grabbed his jacket and raced out the door. He was hoping the minister would be at Cassidy's apartment, too. He had some words for him. Will practiced his tough voice as he got in the car.

Soon he was racing along the curved back road leading from his home to the main road. It was quicker than taking the residential streets first. His fingers gripped the steering wheel until they lost their feeling, and he was counting to 100 to give himself time to calm down. He turned a sharp right and hit the brakes immediately, all efforts at calming himself driven from his mind: Cassidy's truck was overturned on the road in front of him.

              Later, he would swear the entire thing move in slow motion. He also swore there was a guardian angel looking over him that day, because as he pulled Cassidy's bloodied form from the front seat, he felt the weight of something square and boxy knock against his side. His hands were shaking, but his fingers found her pulse, strong and sure, and he let out a strangled cry. There were no other cars on the road, and no one within shouting distance. Her green dress was stained at the top with blood, and he saw a burn on her neck the length of his palm. Cuts covered her face, neck and chest, and the palms of her hands were completely red. The slit in her dress revealed a deep cut about six inches long, and his heart stopped. He found his hands punching 9-1-1 on his phone, heard himself tell the operator their location and that it was dire. Yes, he was a doctor. No, he didn't have his kit on him. Will tried to tie the wound off the sleeves of his jacket, then tried pressing on it to slow the flow. Nothing. He was covering her leg with his jacket again when the ebony case slid out, clattering on the pavement. Will let out noise---half sob, and half laughter. His life really was like a bad movie.