The Best Medicine (20 page)

Wife and babies to support? Scotty had this all wrong.

“We’re not getting married, Scotty. We’re not even dating, technically. And nobody supports me except for me. I don’t need your brother’s help.” I kept my voice low but insistent. Not that my words would make much impression. I’d spent enough time in the emergency department to know that trying to communicate with a drunk person was rather pointless.

His body lolled to the side before he righted himself, and he laughed again. “Doesn’t matter if you need it. He’s just . . . there. Helping. You think I wanted him to take the heat for me in court? No, sir. Ma’am.” Scotty scrubbed a hand over his close-cropped hair, and I felt the first flicker of sympathy for this reckless little brother, but before I could say so, there was Tyler, holding out two cans of Coke.

“What are you two whispering about?”

“Singing your praises, bro. Singing.” Scotty took a can and struggled to open it. He finally managed on the third or fourth try. “Did you tell her about Dad’s boat, Ty? You should tell her about Dad’s boat.”

Tyler’s sigh was audible. “Not really. Who’s driving you home tonight?”

Scotty stood up and looked around, then pointed at the two little blondes in the teeny bikinis. “Them?”

Tyler patted him on the shoulder. “Yeah, that’s going to happen. Good luck. Call me if you need a ride. And don’t go swimming, OK?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Scotty stumbled away without saying good-bye, and Tyler sat back down, eying me thoughtfully.

“Sorry if my brother was obnoxious. It’s a talent he’s really cultivated.”

“He was fine.” That was the universal kind of
fine
. The kind that meant
you’d better ask me again
.

“But?”

I shrugged, hoping I’d sound indifferent even if I didn’t
feel
particularly indifferent. I felt unsettled by virtually everything Scotty had said. The college, the boat, the married with children. What the hell had Tyler told him?

“But he said I’m fucking up your head and messing with your plans. What boat is he talking about?”

Tyler wrapped his arm around my waist. “Evie, Scotty is a moron and he talks too much. Don’t listen to him.”

“What plans?” I prodded. I guess the good news was, at least he had some. But now I was nervous to hear what they were. He scratched his fingers across his jaw. Then he stood up and held out his hand.

“Come on. Let’s take a walk.”

We strolled down the beach, leaving behind the warmth of the fire and the splashing and laughter of the party. I knew I shouldn’t let Scotty’s words get under my skin, but they had. They hinted of accusation, as if I was Tyler’s biggest problem and not the legal issues he was facing in Scotty’s place.

“Have you ever heard that joke about how to make God laugh?” Tyler said after a few minutes. He sounded more contemplative than teasing.

“No. How?”

“You make plans.”

I squeezed his hand. “I hadn’t pegged you as particularly religious.”

He took a drink from the beer he carried. “Twelve years of Catholic school, not that much of it stuck. At any rate, I do make plans, Evie. All the time. Sometimes they work, sometimes they fall through. Then I just make different plans.” I sensed an underlying disappointment, though he said this in a casual way, swinging our clasped hands as we walked.

“Like what kind of plans?” I tried to sound casual too. “Like . . . college?”

He looked down at me. “Yep. College was in the plans. What exactly did Scotty tell you?”

“He just mentioned you’d dropped out. Why is that?”

Tyler pointed ahead. “Let’s go sit in that lifeguard tower, and I’ll tell you my life story, OK?”

We climbed the ladder up to a little five-foot-by-five-foot hut with a built-in bench, three walls, and a roof, a cozy little shelter that hid us from the world. Moonlight splashed against the water, giving us just enough light to see each other and the beach in front of us.

“I had a tennis scholarship to Albion,” he said, once we were sitting side by side. He held my hand and toyed with my fingers as he talked. “But I tore my ACL during my junior year and came home for surgery. Funny thing about scholarships. When you can’t play the sport, they don’t let you keep the money.”

“So you couldn’t afford to go back?” It was easy to take my education for granted. My parents had paid for medical school, and I’d never wanted for much of anything. Except maybe attention.

“Not really. Plus husband number two was giving my mom a lot of trouble. He’d always made it pretty clear that
her
kids were
her
problem. My older brother had taken off by then; Scotty was acting out. Surprise, surprise. And my sisters were double the bad news, so by the time I came home with a busted knee and needed help, he was done with us. So he left.”

Tyler took a drink and paused while I wondered how different my life might have been if either of my parents had married someone I disliked. My father’s wives had all been pleasant enough. Indifferent, but pleasant. And my mother hadn’t dated at all. She was too busy with her career.

“Him leaving was the best thing for everybody,” Tyler continued. “But it was hard on my mom. I didn’t feel like I could just pick up and go back to school and let her figure everything out on her own. She’s not very . . . dependable. So I got a job at the marina. Remember, my dad used to run a charter boat, so I know my way around. I still go out on runs once in a while, whenever some old friend of my dad’s needs an extra set of hands. But I needed something steady, something with some benefits, so that’s how I ended up an EMT.”

“Do you like being an EMT?” It was a hard job, and not everyone was cut out for the more grueling aspects of it. People tended to love it or hate it.

Tyler nodded. “Yeah, I do. I work with some great people. I like the variety and the pace. I like being useful, helping people.”

Scotty’s words filtered back to me.
My big brother likes to fix things. He’s just there . . . helping.

Tyler continued, “Being an EMT was never part of my grand master plan, but yeah, I like it.”

“So what was the grand master plan?”

He shook his head and gave a rueful chuckle. “If you’d asked me that when I was twenty, I’d have bragged about being a tennis pro. But like I said, plans change. After the knee surgery, I just couldn’t get my game back.”

I pictured him in the shorts. His injury was a loss for him and for female tennis fans everywhere.

“I’m sorry. That must have been a big disappointment.” I felt him shrug next to me.

“Yeah, it was. But I’m sure not the first college athlete who never made it to the big stage. I had a plan B. Sort of.”

He paused, taking another quick sip of his beer, then offering it to me.

I shook my head and held up my can of Coke, then twined my other arm around his, pressing a little closer.

“OK, so what was plan B?” I asked.

Another hollow chuckle. “You’ll probably laugh if I tell you. It’s not a very lucrative plan.”

“I won’t laugh. Of course I won’t.”

He rested his head against the back of the bench, staring upward.

“OK. Well, I’ve told you Scotty always wanted to enlist, right? Be a soldier like our dad? My plan B was to save up enough money and restart his charter fishing company. He told us right before he shipped out that when he got back, we’d go into business together. Connelly and Sons Charter, he said. He loved being out on the water, and I guess I inherited that from him, because I love it too. Really love it. Unfortunately, every time I save up some money and think I’m getting close to making a move, something comes along and screws it up. Like this thing with the Jet Ski and the dock. My dad always used to say, ‘Millionaires can afford to have boats, but you’ll never make a million dollars by fishing.’ And that’s the truth. Eight years since I dropped out of college, and I still haven’t managed to get that damn boat back in the lake. Right now it’s sitting in a barn at my mother’s house, and I’m thinking it might be time for a plan C.”

Tyler took another long drink. His frustration was evident, though he tried to mask it with another false chuckle, and my heart squeezed tight. I’d had every opportunity available to me, every door opened, while he kept getting slammed by circumstances, mostly created by other people. Wanting to restart his father’s business was sweet and nostalgic, and his sense of loss was palpable.

I leaned my head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry it hasn’t worked out yet, but it still could, couldn’t it? I mean, besides the financing, what things are in your way?” Certainly not me. I was brand-new in his life. But the whisper of Scotty’s words repeated in my ear.
He can’t do anything if he’s got a wife and kids to support.
As if I’d expect him to support me. That was absurd.

Tyler turned and pressed his lips to my forehead in a soft kiss. “Financing is a big enough issue all on its own. Then there’s the unpredictability of being successful. The season in Michigan is temporary, so even in the best circumstances, it’s only a part-time job. That’s why I thought the EMT thing was a good combination. I’m working on some other things right now, though. Things with more potential. More stability.”

“Such as?” I wasn’t trying to push. I was sincerely interested. Not because I thought I played any role in his future, but because I wanted him to succeed. OK, and because I wanted to push. A little bit.

Tyler slid his arm around behind me. “Just some plans. But I’ll tell you about them later. In the meantime”—he pulled me onto his lap—“you’re just about to turn into a pumpkin, and I’m not ready to take you home.”

“You’re not? Why? Do you have plans for me?” The mood in our little lifeguard hut shifted from meaningful discussion to lusty innuendo. I looped my arms around his shoulders, and our concerns about the future melted as the heat from his body warmed me through. His hands were tight around my waist.

“Yes. Big plans. Immediate plans.” He moved underneath me, and I laughed at the evidence of that.

“My, what big plans you have.”

I thought he’d laugh, but he kissed me instead, and the world disappeared. Breathless, teasing kisses deepened until he started to pull up my shirt. I caught his wrist with my hand.

“Wait. We can’t do this here. Let’s go back to my place.”

He pressed his mouth against my neck and murmured, “Of course we can do this here.” He pushed at my shirt again.

“No, we can’t. We’re outside. Someone will see us.”

He tipped back his head. I could make out his face in the glow of the moonlight.

“No one will see us. Everyone is over at the party. Trust me.” His voice was husky but full of mischief.

“But we’re outside. I’ve never . . .” My indoor girl was not having any of this, but I could tell he was smiling.

“You’ve never what?”

“I’ve never fooled around outside,” I whispered in his ear.

Laughter shook his whole body. I could tell because I was sitting on him, and it felt pretty damn good, in spite of the fact that his humor was at my expense.

“Never? Live a little, Evie. We need to fix that right now.” His effort to remove my shirt increased, and before I could shout
indecent exposure
, I was topless. Even my bra had been tossed to the floor of the little hut.

“Seriously, Tyler. What if someone sees us?” I leaned out to look around. Thankfully, no one was near us in either direction. I could see the bonfire far away, but the rest of the beach was deserted.

“If someone sees us, they’ll be very jealous,” he said as he pulled off his own shirt and dropped it on top of mine. His muscles gleamed in the moonlight.

Live a little? He was right. I should do that.

Starting now.

Chapter 21

THE SISTERS WERE BACK. THIS
was getting tedious, but I should have expected it. Hilary stomped into my office already shaking her head, followed by Gabby, who was wearing a lime-green dress and a huge smile. They both sat down, but nobody had brought me coffee this time. I wished they had, because I was exhausted. I’d stayed up with Tyler well past the witching hour and was in surgery by six this morning. Now it was nearly two o’clock in the afternoon, and I was drained.

“I thought we agreed Tyler Connelly was bad news,” Hilary said. She was using her mad mom voice. That’s how I knew I was in real trouble.

“You may have suggested he was bad news, but I’m not sure we agreed on it.” I avoided eye contact. “And anyway, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I knew exactly what she was talking about. I should have known I couldn’t show up at that bonfire without word getting around. I just didn’t think news would spread so fast.

“My cousin said she saw you two at a beach party last night, and then you snuck off into the bushes.” Gabby’s cheeks were pink with anticipation.

I frowned and started rummaging around in my desk drawers for a granola bar or something. Maybe some food would wake me up. And calm my nerves. I felt an inquisition coming on, and I did not want to face that on an empty stomach. “We did not sneak off into the bushes.”

Gabby’s face fell, until I added, “We snuck off to a lifeguard tower.”

“What?” Hilary’s screech was owlish. Mice scurried. I think she may have popped a blood vessel in her eye. “Please start at the beginning, and explain to me how this happened. I thought you had a good time with Chris Beaumont.”

“I did. But I tried to get you to cancel that, remember?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t realize it was because of Tyler! What are you thinking, Evie?” She’d transitioned to her
I’m-so-disappointed-in-you
mom voice. That one was a drag.

But I was in a damn good mood today, and she wasn’t going to change that. Turns out sex outside is delicious, and other than an inconveniently located splinter, my body was still enjoying the memory of it.

“What am I thinking? I’m thinking your advice to me was to have some fun,” I said. “Remember? Wasn’t that you on my birthday telling me to get a little something-something?”

She rolled her eyes like a preteen drama queen. “Yes, to fun, but why would you waste your time with some doofus like Tyler Connelly when you could have somebody handsome and smart like Chris Beaumont? You said yourself
he met most of the requirements on your list. So I don’t get it.”

“Look,” I said, closing the desk drawer. “Don’t make a big deal out of this, Hilary. Tyler and I are just . . . ships passing in the night. OK?”

Gabby’s phone pinged, and she pulled it from her pocket. “Well, you might try having him dock his dinghy someplace a little more private than a lifeguard tower. This is from a different cousin, and he saw you too.”

“Do you have your entire family spying on me?”
God, I wish I had a granola bar.

Gabby held up the phone and read the message out loud. “Saw hot redhead getting on TC last night. Think it was your boss.”

My stomach did the tango from one side of my abdomen to the other. I was a hot redhead?

“Doesn’t your family have anything better to do than send you texts about me?”

“Not in this town. Plus I have more bad news. That wasn’t a private text. That was Twitter. Hashtag boo-yah-sex-on-the-beach.” Gabby giggled.

“Oh, that’s just great,” Hilary said, crossing her arms and her legs simultaneously. “Your affair with Tyler has gone viral.”

“It’s not an affair! It’s just a . . . it’s just . . . well, yeah, I guess it is an affair.”

“Yay!” Gabby clapped her hands and tapped her feet on the floor.

“You’re doing this on purpose.” Hilary’s voice rasped with frustration. “You’re deliberately choosing the worst possible guy because you know this is going to crash and burn. And you’re going to ruin any chance with Chris in the process. You say you want a real, adult relationship, but obviously you don’t.”

“Why are you getting so mad about this?”

“Because I need you to be part of a couple! I never see you anymore. I can’t invite you to any of my dinner parties because you always come alone and it screws up my seating assignments.”

“You want me to get married because I’m screwing up your social life?” Something told me there was more to this than table assignments.

Hilary stood up and smoothed the front of her Calvin Klein dress. “Evie, I found you a perfectly acceptable man. If you’re going to mess it up on purpose, I can’t help you. You’re on your own.” She sounded more weary than angry, and I found myself wondering why, but she turned and left before I could ask.

Gabby watched her sister leave then swung her gaze back to me. “She’ll be all right. She’s in some dumb fight with Steve and taking it out on everyone else. She even snapped at Delle. I mean, who does that?”

“What’s the fight about?”

In a town of few secrets, Hilary had managed to keep her fears of Steve’s infidelity to herself, and I was not going to be the one to spill those adulterous beans.

Gabby fluffed her skirt. “She booked some fancy bed-and-breakfast place for the weekend to surprise him, but then he couldn’t go because he had to work. What did she expect? She knows he’s working on some big project. Now she just can’t let it go.”

It looked like Hilary and I were in need of a long-overdue heart-to-heart, like the kind we’d had back in our residency days. I wished I had time right then to perk up her spirits, but I had patients to see. That girl time would have to wait.

“And speaking of not letting go,” Gabby said, “why do you say you and Tyler are just ships in the night? Why put an expiration date on it? I mean, maybe he’s the one. Maybe he’s your Mr. Dr. Evelyn Rhoades.”

I swallowed a giggle at the thought of it. “Oh, come on, Gabby. You can’t be serious. For starters, he’s too young for me. And he . . . um . . .” My mind went blank after that. I knew there were lots of other reasons. Very valid, logical reasons. But they’d scattered like M&M’s hitting the floor when the bag rips open. I couldn’t retrieve a single one of them.

Gabby leaned forward in her seat. “OK, so he’s young, but he’ll grow out of that. And in spite of what Steve has told Hilary, everybody else thinks Tyler is a good guy. My cousin Regina, who works at the bank, told me he’s been paying his mother’s house payments since she lost her job last year. That’s a pretty cool thing to do.”

I stood up. “Wow. Your cousins are ubiquitous. And I have patients to see.” My joke was flip, but my internal reaction was anything but. Tyler Connelly was paying his mother’s house payments? Of course he was.

“So I said to myself, ‘what’s the best way for me to spend this alimony check?’ and then it hit me. New boobs. That’s going to drive my ex-husband crazy, seeing me strut around town with a couple of C-cups. Serves him right, lying, cheating piece of shit.”

My last patient of the day was a beautiful twenty-eight-year-old, fit, trim, full of vitality. She was a perfect candidate for this kind of surgery. Still, I had my job to do.

“Madeline, I think it’s important to consider the reasons behind wanting cosmetic surgery. The purpose is to help people develop a healthy self-image and grow their self-esteem. You need to make sure you’re doing this for yourself.”

“Oh, listen, Dr. Rhoades, this is absolutely for myself. This is the best decision I’ve ever made. I got rid of one lousy boob of a husband, and now I’m getting two awesome new boobs in his place. I feel fantastic about this. I didn’t realize how miserable that slob was making me until he was gone.”

Her smile was bright, and I couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm.

“OK, then. Let’s get you scheduled.”

“Great. And do you know any nice single guys?”

I let out an even bigger laugh over that. “You do not want advice from me on that front. Sorry.”

I finished with my patient and was packing up my work bag to take home when Hilary shuffled back into my office, shut the door, and slumped down into my chair.

I put my hand on her shoulder and spoke softly. “What’s up, Hil? Why the crazy-town lately?”

She looked up, her big brown eyes as sad as Bambi on the first day of hunting season.

“I think Steve is having an affair with the tax-coding whore.” And then she burst into tears.

Hilary and I sat on the couch at my apartment, sharing a pint of Ben & Jerry’s while she filled me in on all of Steve’s alleged escapades over the last few weeks. It all sounded pretty circumstantial to me, but I was trying to be supportive.

“They should make a flavor called Cheating Spouse,” she said, putting a fist-sized bite into her mouth. “They could fill it with all the stuff women give up eating when they’re trying to stay skinny for some jerk of a man. Although I guess that’s the definition of all ice cream, isn’t it?” Her eyes were still red from thirty minutes of weeping, but at least her sense of humor had begun to resurface.

I took a bite. “I’m still not clear on what you think happened.”

“I told you. He’s working all these extra hours, he wouldn’t go away with me for the weekend, and he’s also spending a ton of time at the gym. Who is he getting buffed up for? Not for me.”

“How do you know it’s not for you? Have you asked him?”

“No. But then there’s the fact that he changed his e-mail password. I used to have access and now I don’t. What’s he hiding?”

“Maybe confidential client information?” It occurred to me then that maybe Steve hadn’t told her anything about Tyler at all. Maybe she’d read it in a file. I wasn’t certain if that should give me slightly more confidence in him as a lawyer, or less.

Either way, Steve Pullman had a pretty high opinion of himself, but he’d never seemed like the kind of guy who would cheat. And Hilary was a dream wife. If I was going to swing the other way, I’d want to marry her.

“Do you think I should confront him?” Her eyes started to puddle up again.

“Yes, I do. I think rather than driving yourself crazy and getting a tummy tuck that you don’t need, you should talk to him. No matter what you find out, it’s better than worrying and not knowing.”

“I suppose.” She took another enormous bite. This was more calories than I’d seen her consume in all of the previous year. “So, what’s really up with you and Tyler? I know I haven’t been very supportive, but it’s only because I don’t want to see you waste your time on some deadbeat guy.”

I bristled in defense. “He’s not a deadbeat. He’s the opposite of a deadbeat. Aside from that stupid mishap with the Jet Ski, he’s working like crazy to support his family. He’s practically Prince Charming.”

Hilary quirked an eyebrow.

“OK, maybe a dented, smudgy version of Prince Charming.” I took the ice cream container from her.

“I know you, Evie. You are blinded by hormones right now. And even if he’s as great as you say, he’s not the marrying kind. Not for you. I mean, think about it. You drive a Mercedes. He drives a Jeep POS. He’s a college dropout who probably makes thirty-five grand a year if he’s lucky, and you make six times that much. Why wouldn’t he be hitting on you?”