Texas Strong (11 page)

“No, I’m not crazy,” Laura said to her sister as her car barreled down the road.

“Don’t bet on it. You have a man—a hunk, by the way—who’s never so much as winked at another woman. Who loves you to distraction, has provided for his family and, despite a very busy career, missed few of the kids’ plays and games and recitals—and you’re leaving him?”

“You don’t understand.” Laura couldn’t blame her sister. Chrissy’s ex had not only cheated on her but had done worse, she suspected, though Chrissy wouldn’t discuss it. “Everything’s different now.”

Chrissy’s sigh was loud. Frustrated. “He still returns home to you, Laura. He loves you. How bad can it be?”

Laura chewed at her lip. Decided. “He forgot Our Day.”

“Oh. Wow.” Chrissy had babysat their children many a year so that this one inviolable celebration could go on. “But maybe he—”

“Chrissy,” Laura said. “Please be on my side right now.” She couldn’t keep the tears from her voice. “I don’t want to do this, but nothing gets better. He’s like an addict who doesn’t believe there’s a problem even when his arms are covered with needle marks.” She blinked hard. “I’ve talked to him, been patient, made excuses for him. That what he’s doing is so important only makes things worse. But I’m scared to death of winding up like Bob Hunter’s wife, Linda. I’ve got a lovely home and no financial worries, but I didn’t marry a house or money. I married a man I hardly ever see anymore.” She sniffed back tears. “I miss him so much.”

“Of course you do.” Chrissy became solicitous. “I’ll make up the sofa. It’ll be ready by the time you get here.”

“No,” Laura said. “I’m terrible company. I think I just want to be alone. Besides, Puddin’s with me.”

“Okay, now I really am worried. You’ve kidnapped Jake’s dog. That’s serious stuff.”

“He’d starve to death if I left him there.” Laura stroked the head of the gray-muzzled mutt. “And he’s my dog, too.” Though it was Jake who’d found him and brought him home. Ever the savior.

“Everybody adores Puddin’. Come here, Laura. Let me take care of you for a change.”

She wanted to so much. But she was the one who cared for everyone. Being the sister in need was hard. Most often, Laura had been the one who’d had things wired, who picked up the pieces when Chrissy’s luck had gone astray. It had been a point of pride for Laura that she had the perfect family, the dream home, the complete package.

She wanted that dream back. She longed to turn around and go home. Let Jake have one more chance.

But she was very afraid that nothing would change if she did.

“Not now. Not yet, at least. I need to think.”

“I’d say you could do that here, but I hate to lie to someone I love.”

Laura found a slightly soggy laugh. “I appreciate the invitation, really. And maybe I will, but I just need—” She didn’t really know what she needed.

Besides Jake.

“Where will you go?”

She didn’t really know, but Chrissy would worry. “I have a friend with a cabin.” That much was true, though she wasn’t ready to tell anyone but Chrissy that she was leaving her husband.

The words tore the breath right out of her lungs.

Please, Jake, let this wake you up. Let us find our way back to each other
.

She was terrified he would choose medicine over her.

So Laura petted the dog for comfort.

And kept driving.

Jake’s butt was seriously dragging as he approached the tiny break room off the ER administrator’s office, but worn out though he was, he couldn’t help noticing the crowd spilling out the door. He frowned and tried to skirt past because all he wanted to do was be home and horizontal as soon as possible.

But someone hollered out his name. “Yo, Doc. Your woman is amazing.”

His head snapped to the side. “What?”

“Come here,” said Stella. “Let him through, you hogs. Let the man have a chance at the goods.”

A path widened for him, and he spotted what the fuss was all about.

A spread, the likes of which made his mouth water, filled the entire table. Fat clumps of grapes, plump strawberries, an array of meats and cheeses, vegetables, crackers and dips. A variety of pastries that smelled like heaven.

Vintage Laura. Despite the fact that every hand he saw was full, there was plenty of food left, and all of it beautifully presented.

“You are one lucky sonofagun, Cameron,” said a male nurse he was certain belonged to ICU and not the ER.

Jake glanced around and saw that the crowd held many more people than simply trauma personnel. Laura understood their lot; the staffs housed in this wing seldom got proper breaks to go eat. Everything they did was about speed and immediacy. The lives under their care couldn’t wait for someone to return from a leisurely meal, and the people here were dedicated to an extreme degree. Long shifts, high pressure and little down time exacted a toll.

Damn. What a woman. “I am,” he responded, and ducked Stella’s gaze. He’d screwed up so badly and what did Laura do? She made him a feast. Sure, she’d cooked it for all of them, but he knew whom she was really caring for.

Him. Lucky sonofagun Jake Cameron.

Starving Jake Cameron. He dove in, snagged a handful of food and wheeled to go.

Home to Laura.

“Wait—” The unit secretary grabbed his arm.

“Uh-uh. I’m way overdue to leave.”

“I understand. But she sent you something special.”

Jake spotted a bag in the woman’s hands, with his name on it. He accepted it and resumed his departure.

“Hey, Doc, you’re not going to let us peek?”

Recalling all the times Laura had packed him a lunch and slipped in something private and often racy, Jake shook his head. “Nope.” And winked before he left. To the sound of whistles and jeers and laughter.

Excellent stress relief.
Thank you, Laura. From all of us
.

He practically inhaled the food as he loped toward the doctors’ locker room. Once inside, he made certain he was alone before he opened the bag, already grinning in anticipation.

Then he frowned.

A package of underwear. With a note.

Here. Thought you might need this
.

No signature. No
Love, Laura
. No sketched heart.

Why would he need new underwear? There was plenty at home, always clean and folded in his drawer.

What had that note in the kitchen said?

The cook ran off to join the circus
.

But she’d made food for them, when she’d said the kitchen was closed. Food meant love to Laura; she’d always told him she put her heart in every meal.

She wouldn’t actually leave him.

Would she?

Jake didn’t wait to change; he remained in his scrubs, simply tossed his clothes and shoes in his gym bag and seconds later was out the door.

The kids had just dropped off to sleep after a busy, exciting second day at their new school. They’d both chattered from the moment they stepped off the bus, and Becky’s highlight was still her new teacher, while Thad was thrilled that a boy in his class had thrown up.

She grinned as she straightened up the after-bath mess. Oh, how relieved she was that the second day had gone as well as the first. Becky had met one little girl who’d invited her to sit by her at lunch the first day, and they’d become fast friends already. As shy as her daughter was, the power of that little Samantha’s generosity couldn’t be overstated.

Thad, who had never met a stranger, hadn’t waited for any invitations. He already knew the names of more children than she would ever remember, and he’d had a thoroughly good time at recess and lunch.

She paused for a moment in the living room and just took a deep breath. Things might work out here—oh, how she hoped so. Her children weren’t the only ones who needed a place to belong. She stepped out on the back porch to enjoy the waning light of the warm evening.

A noise off to the side alerted her. City instincts had her backing away toward the door to go inside and lock it—

Until she saw the light in the garage.

He’d come. Without a word to her, but…he’d shown up.

Equal parts nerves and anticipation rode her as she crossed the grass. She could see his long powerful legs sticking out from under the car. A clang and muffled curse emerged, and she couldn’t help her giggle.

The legs went still.

She went to her knees and peered beneath the car.

“What are you doing here?” they both asked.

“I live here,” she answered first. “What are you doing?”

A small shrug. “Changing your oil.”

“You know how to do that, too? Without a bay dug in the ground or anything?”

A faint smile curved his lips. “Old school.”

“Can I see?”

“Not unless you want to get filthy, and that’s without getting near the oil.”

She glanced down at the ancient jeans and faded t-shirt she wore. She’d been certain he wouldn’t show, so she hadn’t bothered with her appearance. “I’m game.”

“You’ll regret it.”

“Hey, I might need a new job one day. This is a good skill to learn.”

But when she rolled to her back and scooted under the car, suddenly she realized how close the quarters were. They lay shoulder to shoulder as he used his impressive arm muscles to work at what seemed to be a stubborn bolt.

“This is the oil pan,” he said, voice strained.

“What are we doing with it?”

“The old oil has to be drained out before the new can be put in.”

She eyed what he’d called the oil pan. “I’m guessing putting it in from down here would be tricky.”

A quick slash of white grin. “A little,” he drawled.

“So…?”

He grunted as he put extra muscle into the wrench. “All right, you—” He stopped mid-curse and cleared his throat. “I mean, that bolt was really stuck.”

“I won’t faint at a little swearing.” Her ex was fluent in profanity.

“You’re a lady.”

She was so stunned at the notion that it took her a minute to respond. “Not really.” She held up her hands with their short nails and no polish. “These aren’t lady hands. I’ve always had to work hard. Hard work doesn’t scare me.” She turned her head to meet his gaze. “And neither does a curse here and there, when it’s called for.”

His skepticism showed, but he didn’t argue. “Can you get that plastic pan over closer to me? And scoot away some, so you don’t get splashed?”

She complied, then watched him center the pan beneath the bolt.

“Watch out,” he warned, then scooted away himself, but still close enough to reach the bolt. With one quick twist of his wrist, he pulled out the plug, then oil came pouring out.

She watched the oil—until she felt his eyes on her.

She couldn’t see anything else but him.

Abruptly the oil slowed to a thin stream, then to individual drops. Tank skillfully replaced the plug and bolted it back down. “Okay, let’s get out from under here. You first.”

She complied, thinking of how she’d have to wash her hair before she went to bed. Mechanic work was dirty business.

She remained sitting on her heels as he emerged from beneath the car, towing the pan with him.

Then he rose to sitting beside her, their knees nearly touching.

Their eyes locked, and she wondered if he could see the worlds of interest in hers.

He went silent and still.

She leaned in, rose a little as she got close.

“Chrissy, don’t.” His voice was strained.

“They’re wrong,” she whispered.

“They’re not. I’ve been that bastard they warned you against.”

“Maybe before,” she said with more calm assurance than she could credit. “But not with me.” She hesitated. “I’m not afraid of you, but just so you know, if anyone ever tried to hurt my children, I’d kill them.”

“You’re too small.”

“But I’m mighty.”

His unexpected grin broke the trance. “That you are, I’m beginning to realize.” Quickly he rose to his feet and held out his hand to help her stand.

The touch rattled her. Rattled him, she thought. He went still again and took a step back.

“Tank…”

He shook his head and turned away. “So the next step in the process is…”

She missed half the words as she puzzled over whether he just wasn’t interested or—