The Debra Dilemma (The Lone Stars Book 4) (13 page)

Now, he had a pan of carrot cake French toast from South Congress Café, a large thermos of hot chocolate from Angelina’s in Paris, and all the ingredients to make a perfect omelet. He’d been watching YouTube videos for the last hour and thought he just might have it down. He looked around at the devastation that was his kitchen. He’d be bringing breakfast down to her.

He grabbed the cleanest omelet pan, rinsed it out, and towel dried it. He’d bought five omelet pans so he could learn the fine art of omelet making in case the weather turned sour. And boy howdy, had it ever turned sour…it was downright nasty outside.

He glanced at his watch. He still had fifteen minutes and twelve seconds. He straightened his tie and sat down on the edge of his new brown leather sofa.

Was a tie too formal? The last date they’d had he’d worn board shorts and a faded blue T-shirt. He looked down. The blue pinstripe, three-piece suit might be too much.

He loosened the tie and then removed it all together. He stood and went to the mirror in the master bath. The suit looked ridiculous without the tie. He whipped off the suit coat and vest, then unbuttoned the top two shirt buttons. Now he looked like he’d just come from a really awful day at the office. He redid one of the buttons and ran his fingers through his hair. Crap, now he looked like he was walk-of-shaming it home after a pub-crawl.

Slacks and a sweater might be better. He shimmied out of his pants and shirt and threw on black slacks and a black sweater. Great, now he looked like a thug right out of
The Godfather.

One look at his watch, and he headed to the kitchen. He was out of time. After gathering up everything, he pushed the down button on his elevator. He had two minutes to spare. Debra valued punctuality and so did he. He hopped on the public elevator, hit floor five with his elbow, and almost lost the French toast, but he caught the pan before it hit the floor. The omelet pan slipped out from under his elbow and hit the wooden floor, landing right side up.

The elevator doors rolled open, and rather than bend over to pick up the pan and possibly lose everything else, he kicked it gently with his left big toe.

Holy crap on toast, he wasn’t wearing any shoes. And his socks—he squinted to get a better look—were navy blue and didn’t match the blacked out ensemble he was wearing.

Was it better to be late and wearing shoes, or be on time and pretend that he hadn’t noticed his missing loafers?

Since being on time was very important to Debra, the shoes were out. He kicked the pan down the hall to her door and knocked.

She opened the door, and his heart fell out of his chest and landed at her feet. Debra was simply beautiful. The simple red sweater made her hazel eyes appear green, and in comfortable jeans, she was the all-American girl.

He should say something, really he should, but his mouth was broken.

“Not what I’d expected.” Her gaze took in the armload of food and cooking supplies and moved lower to the pan and the missing shoes. “Do I want to know what happened to your shoes?”

“Nope.” His mouth was back. “Can you grab that omelet pan for me? I don’t want to lose the rest.”

She bent over and picked up the pan. He noticed that she wasn’t wearing any shoes either, and her toenails were painted a glittery reddish pink. He liked this version of her. With her short hair arranged with several sparkly hairclips, she was homey with a little cutting edge thrown in for good measure.

He followed her through the open living room and into the kitchen portion of the great room. He dumped his armload onto the small kitchen island/breakfast bar combo. Her kitchen had red cabinets and beige everything else. It didn’t seem like Debra. Nothing hung on the walls and there was nothing on the counters. He hadn’t remembered her being a neat freak, but maybe she was.

“So you’re cooking me breakfast?” She sounded skeptical.

“Yes, I’d planned a nice picnic for us, but that’s a no go today.” Thunder rattled the building.

“I don’t remember you being able to cook.” She looked over the stuff he’d brought. “What are we having?”

“My specialty…omelets.” He held up the omelet pan. “What do you like in your omelet?”

She slid onto a barstool, looking down to hide the barest hint of a smile. “Um, do you recall—from back when we were dating—that I’m allergic to three things?”

He did remember a severe food allergy and it was to something familiar. “I recall a food allergy, but I can’t remember what you’re allergic to.”

“Eggs.” She nodded to the carton on the island.

“Not to worry. I’ve brought French toast.” He whipped the foil off the pan and showed her. “Carrot cake French toast.”

She mashed her lips together harder. “And the two things I’m more allergic to than eggs are peanuts and carrots.”

“Ohhhh.” He drew the word out. Now he remembered. She was deathly allergic to peanuts and eggs and carrots. All of the air went out of his bubble, and he didn’t know what to do next. It looked like he was trying to murder her. “How about a ham sandwich?”

He had a sinking feeling that she was going to tell him that she’d converted to Judaism.

“How about grilled ham and cheese? That sounds good.” She smiled and he forgot how to breathe.

He nodded. She was different today. The hardness was still there but there was a softness, too. Her lips were painted a glossy red and more than anything, he wanted to suck on the bottom one and kiss her until they ended up naked on the kitchen floor. His eyes went to her V of her sweater. She’d always liked lacey underwear before, did she still?

“Earth to Warren.”

His head snapped up and he met her eyes. “What?”

“I asked if you wanted cheddar or Gouda cheese?” She slipped off the stool and headed to her stainless steel refrigerator.

A smile started at his lips and went straight down to his soul. “That all depends on whether you still get that really good Gouda.”

She’d loved Gouda but only the real thing shipped directly from Holland, and not that pasteurized stuff Americans thought of as Gouda.

She opened her fridge. “Sure do. I bought five wheels on the Dutch Caribbean island of Bonaire last summer when I went scuba diving.”

“You dive?” He grabbed the sourdough bread he’d brought down for toast. She scuba dived now. He’d missed so much of her life, he didn’t want to miss anymore. “I’ve always wanted to learn.”

“You should. I learned in Honduras. I went there for a week and ended up staying for a year…well, actually I sailed around the Caribbean most of the time.” She grabbed a triangle of cheese and a stick of butter and closed the fridge.

“You sailed around the Caribbean?” He loved her independent spirit. It was good to know that girl was still alive and well.

“Yes. After I finished paying off AJ’s and my medical bills, I quit my job, threw a dart at a map, and ended up in Honduras.” She went to a cabinet to the right of the sink and pulled out a cheese grater.

She’d paid off her own medical bills and AJ’s?

“You had a job?” The Debra he’d known didn’t need a job.

“Yes, I bartended on Sixth Street when I was pregnant and then after so I could live.” She pulled out a plate from the cabinet next to the dishwasher. She opened the cheese and grated it.

So her father had cut her off and she’d gotten a job. He’d given her up and she’d still ended up penniless.

“I’m sorry about that…and so many things.” He leaned against the counter. He was about to put the omelet pan on the stove to use to make the sandwiches, but he’d cooked eggs on it and she was very allergic.

“Are you?” She stopped grating and watched him.

“Yes, I’m very sorry.” He wanted to kiss her and nuzzle her collarbone just where he knew she liked it.

“Is that what this is all about?” She pointed to the load of things he’d deposited.

He thought about it for a second. While he felt that he owed her for AJ, he wanted to spend time with her because he loved her. “No, I want to get to know you for who you are now.”

“Why?”

That hurt. He was beginning to see that she didn’t have feelings for him anymore. He rubbed the ache in is heart. Before, she’d always been so forthcoming with her feelings and now, he couldn’t read her anymore.

“I still have feelings for you…big ones.” He’d never been a coward and he wasn’t about to start now.

“Are you sure it’s not just guilt?” She continued grating. It looked like enough cheese for a thousand sandwiches. The practical, in-charge Debra seemed to be slipping as she grated a mountain of cheese. Was it possible that she was a tiny bit nervous?

He’d show her the difference between love and guilt. In two strides, he was at her side. His hands cupped her face and he kissed her softly at first, and then her tongue darted into his mouth. He kissed her with all the love he felt. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. Her heart pounded almost as fast as his.

She broke contact and nestled her head on his shoulder.

Her breathing turned shallow and strained. She was just as affected by the kiss as he was. Relief melted the doubt inside him.

“Peanuts.” She wheezed out. “Did you eat any peanuts this morning? Or eggs?”

He might have had a Reese’s Peanut Butter cup or six and then a couple of omelets.

“Both, why?” He gently stroked her back.

Her breathing went from wheezing to labored and she pushed hard against him. “Allergic.”

She pushed even harder against his chest and he dropped his arms.

Something was wrong.

Debra pointed to her neck. “Allergic to eggs and peanuts.”

Holy shit, her throat was closing.

“Anaphylaxis. Epi-pen in my purse.” She pointed to the kitchen table. “Get it now.”

His heart took off like a rocket as he ran to the table, upended her purse, and sifted through the things until he found the long plastic cylinder. He tried to read the directions as he ran back to her, but she grabbed it out of his hand, popped the lid, pulled out the pen, and slapped it hard against her thigh.

Her eyes closed and her knees gave way and she slid to the floor. He pulled out his smartphone and dialed 911.

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?” The operator was male and very no nonsense.

“She’s in anaphylaxis. She’s allergic to eggs and peanuts. I ate them this morning and kissed her.” He was at Debra’s side. Her breathing was shallow but strong, but her eyes were still closed. He would never forgive himself.

“Is she breathing?” The man’s sense of urgency increased.

“Yes, but I think she passed out. She used an Epi-pen.” Warren felt so helpless. She could die because of him.

“Sir, what’s your address?” The man asked.

He recited the address and apartment number. “What do I do?”

“Nothing, sir.” Rapid fire typing came from the other end of the phone. “Sir, stay calm. My name is Reggie, what’s yours?”

“Warren…Warren Daniver.” He ran to the front door, opened it, and ran back to her side. He sat down next to her and pulled her onto his lap. He cradled her head against his chest.

“Warren, I’m going to stay on the line with you until the paramedics arrive. Is she still breathing?”

“Her name is Debra, Debra Covington.” He could feel her chest moving up and down. “Yes and it doesn’t sound as wheezy.”

“That’s good. The Epi-pen is helping. The paramedics should be there in sixty seconds. Just keep her comfortable and make sure that her airway is open.” Reggie was in efficient and calm mode. “You need to keep breathing too. I can hear that your breathing is erratic. You need to calm down. Debra is going to be okay. Slow down your breathing. You’re taking in too much carbon dioxide. Take a deep breath with me.” Reggie took a deep breath and Warren followed. He took another one and concentrated on taking long, deep breaths instead of shallow short ones.

Slowly, his breathing returned to normal.

“Warren, tell me about yourself.” Reggie was so calm and his voice was comforting.

“I – I own The Austin Lone Stars. I ate some eggs and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups—not at the same time—and I kissed her. I didn’t realize.” That he could almost kill her with a kiss. That was it, he was never eating eggs or carrots or peanuts again. The alternative was to never kiss her again and that wasn’t going to happen.

“Your girlfriend is going to be fine. Most people don’t realize that the allergens in food can stay in the saliva for hours. This is more common than you’d thing. It’s not your fault, you didn’t know. Your girlfriend is going to be okay. The Epi-pen saved her life. She’s going to be fine. The paramedics will give her a shot to help even more, but she’s going to be fine.”

“Are you sure?” He held Debra tight to him.

“She’s going to be fine.” Reggie was as calm as they came. It was a rare gift to keep calm in stressful situations.

“What?” Debra flinched and then tried to sit up. Her eyes were open and she was looking around like she was trying to figure out where she was.

“She’s awake.” Warren felt like crying with happiness and his heartbeat was coming down from stroke levels. She was awake. He thanked God, Jesus, Buddha, and whatever other supreme beings may be watching out for Debra at the moment.

“Where is the patient?” A man called from the front door.

“Over here.” Warren waved to get his attention.

Their eyes locked and he ran over. His partner carrying a duffle bag, ran in after him.

“My name is Earl, tell me what happened.” The first paramedic squatted down beside Debra and took her pulse.

“I kissed her and I’d eaten eggs and peanuts, and she’s allergic to both of them.” Warren felt like he’d aged ten years in the last ten minutes. “She used her Epi-pen.”

“Okay, her pulse is elevated, and her breathing is shallow.” He slipped the ends of a stethoscope into his ears and listened to her heart and then her breathing. “Everything sounds good.”

He turned to the paramedic behind him. “I need point three of epinephrine.”

The man behind him took out a syringe and a vial and drew up an injection.

“Ma’am, I’m going to administer another dose of epinephrine just to make sure that it neutralizes your histamine reaction. Can you tell me your name?” He pulled up the left sleeve of her red sweater.