The Lottery Winner (17 page)

She wanted to scream, to cry, to throw something. They didn't understand. She could not lose the restaurant. It was all she had left. Logan squeezed her shoulder.

“We'll take care of the Widow. I promise. And I'll line up someone to take care of you at home while you recover.”

“I can't afford—”

“I'll take care of it.”

“You can't afford it when you're funneling all your money to the PI.”

“That's on hold for now. Sign. Please.”

He offered the clipboard and the pen. Reluctantly, she took the paperwork and scratched her name on all the highlighted lines. The doctor nodded and left. Logan followed him out; the drone of their voices faded. She sagged against the pillows, angry tears pricking her eyes. One stupid fall and she'd lost control of her life.

This was all Ignatius's fault. If she hadn't been thinking about the pushy bastard and his cocky surety that they would have a date in the future, she wouldn't have fallen off her new work clogs. But the damage was done. And just like she had when she'd lost Jack, she'd pick up the pieces and keep going.

The only upside was she wouldn't have to come up with an excuse to avoid Logan's PI.

* * *

“T
HAT
'
S
IT
! W
E
'
RE
DONE
,” Sue said, and the gathered employees emitted a cheer.

“We survived a night without the boss,” Hal added. “Let's get out of here.”

Jessie scanned the dozen tired faces in the kitchen. “Miri would be proud of you. You pulled together like a well-trained team.”

After a series of high-fives, all but the cook, Sue and Jessie filed out the side door. Jessie turned to Sue. “Any updates?”

“Logan's last text said Miri will have surgery first thing in the morning.” Sue grabbed the night deposit bag. “I'm beat. Can't wait to get home and soak my feet.”

Now that the adrenaline of getting through the crisis had drained, they were all tired. It showed in the way they shuffled out the front door. Jessie looked into the parking lot and suddenly recalled her predicament—the same as last night. Stranded. But at least tonight she had a pocketful of cash. Not only had the buyers picked up the Key deer painting, another guest had bought her hibiscus. She'd been so busy trying to cover her job and Miri's she hadn't had time to bask in the glow of her second sale.

“Can either of you jump my car or recommend a tow company?” she asked as Sue locked up.

A dark figure rose from the outside bench. Jessie's heart skipped in panic, thinking they were about to be robbed, then she recognized Logan's PI friend.

“Logan told me your battery was dead. I brought cables. I'll get you running or drive you home.”

Logan had thought of her even in the midst of Miri's emergency. But the PI made her nervous. “Thank you.”

The man shrugged. “Least I can do. I'd want somebody to help my daughter.” His gaze swung to Sue. “Any news on Miri?”

“She'll have surgery in the morning. But she'll be off her feet for six weeks, maybe more.”

“How's she going to manage?”

Sue shook her head. “We'll take care of things here, but at home? I don't know. I'm hoping there's enough money to hire someone, but I doubt it. Things have been pretty tight since—” She raised her eyebrows. “You know.”

“Gotcha. I might know someone,” the PI said.

“If you do, please pass that on to Logan. Hal's driving me home. We're dropping the deposit at the bank on the way. Night, all.”

Since what?
Jessie wanted to ask what Sue meant. But she didn't. If it was any of her business, they'd tell her.

The PI turned to Jessie. “All right, missy. Let's get your car running.” They crossed the lot together. “I won't ask why you didn't call the rental company to demand a replacement car.”

Jessie gulped. He knew her car was a rental. “I didn't know I could do that.”

“Their local office would send someone to help.”

“If you'd rather I do that, I will.”

“No need. I'm here. And for future reference, the person on the lease agreement needs to call and be here.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Did he know the car wasn't in her name or was he fishing for information? “Right.”

He climbed in the American-made SUV parked grille to grille with her car and started the engine, then raised the hood and returned to her side. “Jump in and pop the hood.”

She did as he asked then joined him up front. He hooked up the cables then faced her, his expression somber. “As long as you don't try to pull any funny business on Miri or Logan, you got nothing to fear from me, Miss Martin.”

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. He knew. Her fight-or-flight instincts kicked in. Should she leave Florida?

“Have you told Logan?”

“Nope. I read enough to know why you're hiding out down here, and you're entitled to your privacy. By the way, you're prettier as a blue-eyed blonde. You look just like your mama.”

Yes, she did. He'd done his research. Fear tightened her throat.

He nodded toward her car. “Get in and see if she'll start.”

Mouth dry with panic, she complied. After two failed attempts the engine turned over and purred. “Let 'er run a minute,” the PI called out.

Jessie sat behind the wheel, her fingers clenching until they hurt. Should she tell Brandon about being discovered? If she did she'd have to explain the whole convoluted situation and he'd demand she come home. And as much as she'd longed for home a week ago, she didn't want to leave now. How could she when Miri needed her more now than before?

Ignatius unhooked the cables, shut both hoods and stopped by her open door. “She should run fine now, but I'll follow you home if it'll make you feel better.”

“I-I'm good. Thanks.”

“You gonna bolt?”

It would be the smart thing to do. But she shook her head. “I can't do that to Miri.”

“Does your family know where you are and that you're safe?”

“Yes. I talk to my brother every day. And sometimes my mom.”

“Secure line?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Smart. But I'm surprised a law enforcement guy would let you take a waitressing job if you're in hiding.”

She ducked her head, heat stinging her cheeks.

“Ah. He doesn't know, eh?”

“You don't miss much, do you?”

“Not when it concerns folks I care about. Logan's more than a client. He's a friend. And Miri's mighty special, too. So your family doesn't know what you're up to?”

She shook her head.

“Want to let 'em know I'm looking out for you?”

“No. That would...require a lot of explaining.”

Ignatius pulled a card from his wallet. “My info. Cell number's on it. Call if you need me—any time. Now get on back to your hideaway. This is going to be a long weekend without the li'l general to keep everybody in line.”

She was shaking as she drove out of the lot. Her secret was out. But was it safe with the man in her rearview mirror?

CHAPTER TWELVE

“W
HAT
DAY
IS
IT
?
” Miri's groggy voice pulled Logan's attention from the client file on his laptop.

He shifted in the hospital visitor's chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. “Friday.”

“Our busiest night. Why are you here instead of at the Widow?”

“Because you just came out of surgery four hours ago. Sue will run things.”

“She's great with the front of the house, but she can't handle the back.”

“Then Hal will do it.”

“Hal, God love him, is a fabulous cook. But he needs somebody to keep him on task. You have to do it, Logan.”

“Miri, it's been a lot of years since I worked the kitchen line.”

“It's been a long time since you waited tables, too, but you picked that right back up.”

“Somebody needs to stay here with you. You've been sick to your stomach and—”

“That was from the anesthesia. I'm fine now that the antinausea medicine has kicked in, and I have a call button for the nurses' station.”

He didn't want to leave her. Stupid, but he didn't. Seeing the ambulance pull away with her in the back had reminded him of the last time he'd seen his mother alive.

“I'm not leaving. I'll call Sue and check on things.” He checked his phone. “I don't have a signal in here. I'll step outside.”

“Fine. Whatever. But I need you at the Widow. I don't need a babysitter.”

He left a message with the nurse and headed downstairs. Text tones lit up his phone as soon as he cleared the entrance doors. I's said, “Call me. ASAP.”

But Logan called the Widow first. Gin, the bartender, answered and put him through to Sue. “How's it going?”

“All good. The team's pulling together. How's Miri?”

“Worried about keeping Hal on task. Otherwise, as good as expected.”

“Tell her to rest easy. Jessie's stepped into Miri's role and she's keeping things moving. She's also taken over totaling the receipts every night.”

A prickle of uneasiness ran through him. He was attracted to Jessie. That didn't mean he blindly trusted her with the restaurant's money. “Does she know how?”

“Says she did it in college.”

Truth? Or a way to scam them? “I'd feel better if I did it.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I'll be there tomorrow night. Lock tonight's take in the safe.”

He ended the call then punched I's contact button. He picked up on the first ring. “How's Miri?”

“Good. They'll release her tomorrow. She'll be in a wheelchair and completely non–weight bearing for a minimum of six weeks. Then she's allowed limited mobility after a few more months.”

“Are they sending her to rehab?”

“The surgeon suggested it, but most of the places don't accept that crappy insurance company she uses.”

That was his fault. She'd reduced costs by moving to a cheaper company after his fiasco.

“Then she'll be at home?”

“That's the plan...if I can make it work.”

“You gonna hire somebody to stay with her?”

“I've been checking into prices. They want a minimum of sixteen dollars an hour. Multiply that times twenty-four hours, five days a week and six weeks, and she can't afford that and neither can I. It's a hell of a mess.”

“I'll stay with her. Hire a nursing assistant to check on her and bathe her and I'll do the rest—feed her, get her to physical therapy, shop for her groceries and all that jazz.”

“I can't ask you to do that. And if I did, Miri would probably kill me.”

I laughed. “Or me. But she needs help and I'm available. I do most of my work on the computer. I can take care of her and never miss a beat. I want to help.”

“I appreciate your offer. And I'll take you up on it until I can find someone we can afford.”

“Deal. Get me a key, and I'll take care of the rest. Oh, and you might not want to mention the arrangements to Miri just yet.”

Understatement of the year. “Roger that. I'd spell you in the evenings and on weekends, but I'll have to spend that time working at the Widow.”

“What's up?”

“Sue just told me Jessie's handling the deposits. We've never run a background check on her, and I'm not comfortable putting all the cash and credit card info in her hands.”

“Forget about it. Jessie's okay.”

Hearing that from I, a self-professed skeptic, was unusual. “Is that your personal opinion or your professional one?”

“It's a twofer. Jessie shouldn't be a problem.”

“You checked her out, didn't you? What did you learn?”

“That she's unlikely to be a problem.”

Too vague. “Unlikely?”

“I don't offer guarantees. But I wouldn't worry about Jessie.”

“What can you tell me, I?”

“That there's nothing you need to know.”

More ambiguity. But he knew I well enough to know the man wouldn't talk if pushed. He said his goodbyes and headed back inside.

He'd confront I later and try to pry more information out of him. But for now, like it or not, Miri was stuck with Logan watching out for her at least until he got her home.

* * *

S
ATURDAY
AFTERNOON
M
IRI
eyed the brand-new handicap ramp leading to her front door with distaste. It reminded her how long she'd be banned from her life and the doctor's threat that her knee would never fully recover if she didn't stay off it as ordered. “Who built that monstrosity?”

Logan pushed her wheelchair toward the ramp. “I.”

That single letter filled her with a volatile cocktail of emotions. “We don't need his help.”

“Sorry to hear that, Miriam Louise.” Only when she heard his voice did she notice Ignatius Smith sitting in
her
front porch rocking chair.

She jerked upright, sending a dagger of pain slicing through her leg beneath the heavy plaster cast. Hating for him to see her weakness, she tried to suppress her grimace, but the sympathy clouding his eagle eyes told her he hadn't missed anything.

“I, this looks great,” Logan said. “I had no idea you were going to build it. Thank you.”

“No problem. I enjoyed sharpening my rusty carpentry skills. And we need to be able to get Her Majesty into the house and out here to her garden.”

“What are you doing here?” Miri demanded, interrupting the men's chitchat.

“I'm here to serve.” He bowed.

“You're what?”

“I'm going to be your nurse. Logan can't be here 24/7. I can.”

“That is not funny.” She looked over her shoulder at Logan. His cagey expression sent alarm slithering through her. “You said you'd hired someone.”

“I did. A nursing assistant will come by every morning to give you baths and get you dressed. I volunteered to stay the rest of the time, including overnight.”

This man in her house? Sleeping here? Seeing her at her worst? “No. No. Absolutely not. I need a woman to help me with...things. Hire someone else.”

“That's what the aide is for, plus Sue and Jessie will take turns coming by before and after work every day. I have client meetings I can't miss in the mornings. Evenings I'll oversee the Widow. I will help you in any way he can, Miri. All you have to do is ask.”

She grabbed the wheels and spun the chair around to face her nephew. He jumped back to avoid her slamming into him with her upraised leg. “Logan, I don't want that man here.”

“That's tough, Miriam Louise,” the cocky rascal in question replied from directly behind her. She hadn't even heard him descend the ramp. His big paws landed on her shoulders and squeezed, then he leaned down and whispered into her ear, “Because like a tattoo, I'm going to be hard to get rid of. Whether or not you're willing to admit it, you need me. Let's get you into the house.”

The distracting tickle of his breath on her ear was the only reason he was able to wrestle control of the chair from her. He pushed her up the ramp. He'd built a smaller second incline from the porch into the house.

Anger whipped through her like hurricane-force winds. The man had taken over and made changes to her house without her permission. She opened her mouth to let rip a blistering rant, but finding her living room fully decorated for Christmas stole the wind from her sails. A tree adorned with twinkling lights and familiar ornaments stood in the bay window. Greenery, candles and bows she hadn't used in years decorated tabletops. She hadn't had time to decorate.

“Who did this?”

“I did,” Ignatius said. Carefully, she twisted to look at the culprit. His ears and neck were a blotchy red.

“You snooped in my attic?”

“Christmas is only seven days away, woman. Your place needed a little holiday cheer. I figured you had stuff somewhere, so I looked. Anyway, I'll bet you could use some real food after two days of hospital swill. I've laid in enough grub for a good, long hurricane party. Looks like you'll get to sample my culinary masterpieces after all.”

As the idea of being trapped with him for an extended period was freaking her out, a heavenly smell registered. Something Italian. “I don't need you cooking for me.”

Her ungracious tone embarrassed her, but the man had overstepped too many boundaries to count. She felt as if she'd lost control of her life—to him.

“Too bad. You can't reach the stove. I like to cook and I gotta eat, too. I'm not much on fast food or delivery junk. So you'll get Grandma Smith's best recipes, like it or not.”

His grandmother had taught him to cook?

He shoved her toward the kitchen table. The chair facing the window to the backyard had been removed. He positioned her very carefully so that her leg didn't hit the table. A snow globe with a Harley in it sat in the center of the glass oval. It wasn't hers.

“What is that?”

“Your bike until you decide to buy one. Figured it's the only one you can handle for a while.”

His actions...disarmed her. But him living here? She scowled at Logan. “He cannot stay.”

Her nephew's stubborn face didn't bode well. “You can't be alone. Doctor's orders. Either I stays or you go to a rehab facility. The closest one with an opening that will accept your insurance is in Homestead.”

“I can't keep an eye on the Widow from almost three hours away. When will the one in Key West have a spot?”

“They weren't sure. What's it going to be? I have to notify the doctor if you refuse to accept these arrangements.”

She glared at Logan. How dare he put her in this position? Then she scowled at Ignatius. “If this is your way of trying to finagle a date, then you're wasting your time. I will not go out with you again.”

“Not for at least six weeks. You'll have to resist my manly charms. Think you can handle that?” His dark brows waggled and his eyes twinkled with mischief. “My money says no.”

Her stomach flipped—in disgust, she assured herself. She wanted to throw the snow globe at him—doubly so when she heard a cough that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle from her nephew.

“I'm staying here. But you—” She pointed at Ignatius. “You'd better behave yourself or my Ruger will be doing the talking.”

“If you can find it. My mama didn't raise a dummy, and my granddaddy taught me how to handle volatile women. I already put your firearm and all the sharp knives out of reach.”

She gripped the arms of the wheelchair and struggled to calm herself. He'd been in her nightstand drawer. She inhaled, long and slow, then exhaled the same way, praying for patience.

Lord, please get me through the next six weeks without killing the man.

* * *

J
ESSIE
HUSTLED
THROUGH
the Widow's employee entrance Sunday morning. The prep staff had beat her to work.

“Good morning! Y'all are impressive. Everybody's early.” She turned for the locker room to put away her keys and wallet and barely avoided colliding with someone who'd been behind her. Strong arms clamped her biceps. Her body recognized Logan's scent and touch before she looked into his intensely blue eyes.

“Sorry.” The word whooshed out as her lungs emptied. The last time she'd been this close to him he'd kissed her. The memory sent her pulse rate out of control, and her whole body flushed, making her uniform feel clingy and hot. Despite everything, as much as she hated to admit it, she was attracted to him. And if her life weren't a lie—

She wiggled free and put a yard between them. “I didn't see you. How's Miri?”

“Home. Cranky. But surgery went well.” Logan searched Jessie's face. “Did you do something different?”

The bottom of her stomach dropped out. She'd bought replacement contacts Saturday morning, but she hadn't been able to find the same brand. While her new contacts were still brown, they were tricolored instead of bicolored. She hadn't thought anyone would notice a few additional flecks of gold.

She lowered her gaze. “Must be my makeup. Thanks for asking your friend to jump-start my car. He must be a good guy if he offered to help Miri.”

“He is. I'd trust I with anything. And you're welcome.” He remained in her path as if he had something more to say. Apprehension trickled through her. Had the PI revealed what he'd discovered despite his assurance that he wouldn't?

“I've already notified everyone else. We're reverting to the Widow's old hours, and we'll be closed on Wednesdays and Thursdays while Miri's out. I hope she'll keep those hours once she returns.”

She nodded, avoiding eye contact and needing to escape. “I'm glad you could stop by with updates. We're all thinking about Miri, and I'm keeping her in my prayers.”