Scattered Ashes (11 page)

Finally, he asked, “You okay over there?  I told you standing wasn’t a good idea.”

“You’re right,” she whispered, yet she couldn’t seem to move.

“Am I interrupting something?” Sarah asked from the doorway, her eyes alight with amusement.

Michael glanced that way and shook his head.  “Nope.  Your friend here decided she was going to try and stand, and she almost ended up taking a nose dive.”  He looked back at Nicole.  “You ready to lie back down so I can look at your head?”

Nicole blinked a couple of times, and although she wanted to argue, her head hurt, and she hoped that if she did lie down, the room would stop spinning.  “Yeah.  I am.”

“I’m following your lead,” he said, and as she started moving back toward the bed, his hold eased and his hands actually just hovered there to guide her as she rested back on the bed.  “Could I have the peroxide?” Michael asked, looking at Sarah as he waved for her to come closer.

“Sure.”  Sarah still grinned as she stepped toward them and handed him the bag.

He reached into it and pulled out a small bottle of peroxide and a little bag of cotton balls, then peered deeper to find a box of bandages that he left in the bag.  “Okay, let’s get you fixed up.”

He proceeded to clean and bandage the wound.  The whole time he worked, Nicole kept her eyes tightly closed as she tried to ignore the fizzing of the peroxide.  She’d never liked that sound, and it usually made her feel sick to her stomach--yet another reason being a nurse had quickly been scratched off her list of future plans.

“You okay?” he asked softly as he pressed the Band-Aid into place.

“Peachy,” she replied, gritting her teeth, wishing this whole thing were over.  She hated being the center of attention, and for whatever reason, Michael Adams had taken a personal interest in her.  Part of her was flattered, the other unnerved as hell.

“Okay, she’s good to go.”  Michael rose slowly from where he’d sat on the edge of the bed.  Giving Nicole one last glance, he turned and grabbed the rest of his stuff.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he said, heading out the door. 

“Will do.”  Sarah waited until he’d slipped out the door and then closed it, scurrying over to the bed.  “Whoa, baby--was he hot or what?  And I think he really likes you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Nicole sputtered.  “He used to be an EMT, and those old reflexes probably kicked in.”

Sarah quickly perched on the bed and smirked at her.  So, are you going to try and tell me you don’t think he’s cute?  You’d have to be blind to miss that. And a lawyer?  Wow--what a combo.  If that doesn’t take your mind off Jordan, I don’t know what will.”

“Why do you keep bringing up Jordan?” Nicole asked, raising her hand to touched the bandage on her forehead where the soreness persisted.  “And could I get some of that Tylenol?  My head is throbbing.”

Sarah rolled her eyes.  “I’m talking about a really hot bachelor who seems to like you, and all you can think about is Tylenol.  This is the exact reason you still don’t have a boyfriend, Nic.  It’s called
priorities
.”

“We’ll see how well you drool over guys when you get your face bashed against a brick wall, okay?” Nicole muttered, glaring.  “Now give me the damned drugs.”

“Boy, are you testy.”  Sarah twisted open the bottle and dumped two in Nicole's palm before she walked to the bathroom and filled one of the plastic cups.  She paced back and found Nicole sitting up, reaching for the cup.

“Here,” she said.  “That should do you.”

Nicole took the pills, popped them into her mouth, and washed them down before lying back down.  “Maybe you should go enjoy yourself instead of staying in this boring hotel room with me.  I don’t think I’m going to be up for your mad night of partying and drinking.  Sorry, Sarah.”

“It’s all right,” she said, sighing.

Nicole shook her head.  “You really should go and enjoy yourself.  I’ll be fine here.  Promise.”

Looking at her watch, Sarah frowned.  “I don’t know, Nic.  I mean, on one hand, I’d love to go out because it seems like it’s been forever, but you really shouldn’t be left by yourself.”

“I just bumped my head.  No biggie--and I think I can call you if something happens, so there’s no reason you have to waste your weekend watching me when you could be meeting single guys.”

Sarah shook her head doubtfully.  “I dunno, Nic.”

Nicole raised her hands and waved around the room.  “Where exactly am I going to go?  I think I’ll be fine, and there’s no reason for you to waste a weekend babysitting me.”

“Are you sure?” Sarah asked, frowning. 

“Positive.  Now go get ready and let the madness begin.”

Sarah pulled her keys out of her purse.  “I’m going to go get the car and move it to the parking lot.  I’ll be back in a few.  Stay put.”

“I can do that.”

Nicole watched her friend leave and shook her head, lamenting  how things had turned out despite their best intentions.  Oh well, at least Sarah wasn’t letting it hold her up, and Nicole could always use the time to catch up on some television since she wasn’t allowed to move around, not according to Michael.

Chapter Seven

Sunday afternoon, Nicole stood before the easel, working on her painting.  The landscape was much fuller, and it seemed as though she was going about this the wrong way, filling things in from the outside.  She had yet to put herself or Jordan on that canvas, and she wasn't sure why.  Maybe it was just the idea of getting it wrong somehow.  She didn't know.  She wanted to blame it on the heat--September and still no sign of a cool front.  Fascinating.  But even though she was sweating, as some moron in  apartment complex management had made the money-saving decision to shift from air to heat, she knew better.  Her thoughts kept returning to Jordan.

The doorbell rang, and she called, “Hey, Sarah, can you get that?”

No answer.

The doorbell rang a second time, forcing Nicole to move.  Although she wasn’t still dizzy, thank God, she did have a small headache.  Still, she could live with that, she thought, walking to the door.  As she passed the hallway, she heard the distinct flow of the shower and realized that was probably why Sarah hadn’t answered.

When she pulled open the door, a huge bouquet of red and white roses greeted her—that and the flower boy’s body.  The bouquet was so huge it seemed to hide all of his head so that it looked like a strange mutant rose guy stood on the doorstep.

Weird.  She shook her head, thinking,
These must be for Sarah.

“Ms. O’Roarke?” The delivery boy/mutant rose guy said.

While she doubted he could see it, she nodded and said, “Yes.”

“Here you go,” he said and held out the roses.  Instead of taking them, she stepped back, puzzled.

“Perhaps you’re really looking for my roommate, Sarah Middleton?  She’s in the shower, but I can take them for her.”  She smiled at him, thinking,
Who would send
me
flowers?  This has to be a mistake.

“Nope,” he replied smugly as though glad to get the massive bouquet off his hands as he shoved them toward her.  “Not unless she also goes by the name Nicole O’Roarke.”  He stared at them expectantly, but Nicole just stood there, stunned.  “Look, Miss, these flowers are heavy.  Could you just take them so I can get on with my other deliveries?”

“Okay.”  She edged forward and gently took them.  “I don’t understand.  Who could they possibly be from?”

Grinning, he tapped the envelope attached to the flowers.  “Maybe you should read the card,” he suggested helpfully and abruptly turned away, headed for the parking lot.

“Gee, thanks,” Nicole said, shaking her head as she stood there for a moment longer, still in shock.  The delivery guy had been right.  The bouquet was heavy and very expensive.  Whoever had sent it had extremely good taste.

Chewing her bottom lip, Nicole backed slowly away from the door and shut it before turning and setting the ornate crystal vase at the center of the dining room table.  She stepped back to admire it.  Had Jordan sent it?  Why would he?

“I thought I heard the doorbell,” Sarah said, stepping into the room.  Her long blonde hair curled down the front of her tank top, and her shorts were just a little shorter than acceptable for public.

“Oh, you did.”  Nicole crossed her arms over her chest, not sure she wanted to read the card.  It was one thing to want it to be from Jordan, and while it was sitting there, still unopened, she could believe that, even if it weren’t true.  It was another to find out the hard way Jordan hadn’t sent it.

“Oh, my!” Sarah exclaimed.  “These are gorgeous.”

Nicole nodded slowly, unsure what to do.  “I thought they were for you.”

“For me?” Sarah turned back to her.  “Not likely.  I’m between boyfriends at the moment, and the ones I’ve dated recently aren’t so fond of me for some reason--maybe because I broke up with them.  Hmmm.”  She bent low and smelled one of the blossoms.  “Okay, so who are they from, and please don’t say Jordan!”

“I haven’t opened the card.”

Making a growling noise, Sarah straightened and set both hands on Nicole’s shoulder to shake her.  “What is wrong with you?  I’d have ripped open the card before the delivery guy was even out the door.”  She plucked the card from the stand nestled among the flowers and leaves.  “Here.  Put me out of my misery, please.”

Who's going to put me out of mine?
Nicole thought, slowly taking the envelope. It seemed to take her forever to pull the card free, and it didn’t help that her best friend kept staring at her.

She’d barely scanned it when Sarah already started jumping up and down.  “Well? 
Who
is it?  The suspense is killing me, and since no guy is going to send me flowers, I’m living through you.”

Nicole looked at the signature:  Michael Adams.  Okay, things were definitely getting a little wonky.  Lawyer guy wasn’t just a good Samaritan?  Oh, boy.

“Nic, come on!  Who are they from?”  She folded her arms over her chest.

“Michael Adams.”  She avoided looking into her roommate’s eyes, knowing Sarah was going to have a field day with this.  She was sure of that.  Instead, she focused on what he’d written above his name.

Nicole,

I’m going to be at the Red Lobster this evening at 7:30.  I know this is short notice and you may not be interested, but I thought I’d ask, anyway.  If you’d like to join me, I’ll have a table waiting.  No muggers will be invited.

Michael Adams

“Michael Adams!  The lawyer guy?” Sarah exploded.  “Holy cow!”  She tried to bustle close to her friend and get a look at the card, but Nicole hid it against her chest.  “C’mon, Nic, what does it say?  I’m your best friend.  You have an obligation to share.”

“All right,” Nicole muttered and handed over the card before she looked at her clock.  It was two now, so she did have time, if she wanted to go out with him, and that was a big
if.

“Wow!” Sarah exclaimed, dancing around the room.  “You’ve got a date, woman!  And it’s not even a blind date! Woo-hoo!”

“I didn’t say I was going,” Nicole said, plunking down at the table.  She couldn’t for the life of her sort out her feelings with her friend doing a mad dance around her like that.  Part of her was disappointed they weren’t from Jordan.  Part of her was thrilled Michael had seen something besides the head wound and a dizzy woman who acted like she was blonde.  Part of her just wanted to bury her head in the sand.