Maybe Baby (5 page)

Whoa. I chose to look at Denise this time, hoping for a little reinforcement. But she looked to be rooted in the corner of my hospital room, paying
way
too much attention to her nails.

Well. Crap.

“What happened?” Trey asked, using a lofty monotone. His arms were now crossed, drawing my attention yet again to the skin his shirt didn’t cover.

“We weren’t at the pool for very long,” I told him, shifting uncomfortably in my guard-railed bed. Geez, it was hard to sit up straight in these things. “We were just having a barbeque, and sure, there was alcohol around but just beer and wine coolers. And after we ate, we went swimming.” I looked up at him, with nervous hands and a brave face, “In your pool. We were playing some stupid game where…” I made some kind of indicating hand gesture, “You do this… thing where you get on each other’s shoulders to try to make the other person lose their balance. Or something.” This was where I expected him to smirk and once again remark on the fact that we were in
his
pool.

But Trey didn’t smirk. He didn’t fire me. He didn’t roll his eyes at the stupid naïve girl who couldn’t even drink out of one of those stupid accordion-looking death straws.

He started laughing.

Not a barrel-laugh or anything. I couldn’t even tell that he was laughing at first; I just saw that he clamped his lips shut. But when he bowed his head down, and his shoulders began to shake with his arms still crossed, I was pretty much clued in. Then he looked back up with probably the most gorgeous smile on the face of this planet.

“You almost drowned while Chicken Fighting?”

Wow. Seriously, it wasn’t that I was ignoring the question so much as I was downright fascinated with what that smile did to Trey. He went from being this super sexy Versace-ad-looking employer with a temper; to just a guy who was completely mesmerizing with this riveting smile.

I got my head back in the game, blinking a couple of times. “No, I didn’t almost drown
while
Chicken Fighting…I hit my head on the side of the pool when Jenna shoved me.”

And gone was the smile. Saying that it disappeared would be a vast understatement, because Rhett my Boss was back in full swing within the next nanosecond. “Had
she
been drinking?” Trey asked.

I bit my lip, because I really hated shoving someone in front a bus. And I
wasn’t
going to do that. Even with Jenna, the girl with a pair of Victoria’s biggest Secrets. Nope. Not goin’ to happen, Mr. Sinclair. You can sit there and penetrate me with those gorgeous eyes and startling smiles all day. I wasn’t going to slip this time. Nope!

“
Jenna
pushed you, Tylar?” Denise’s hiss was accessorized with one of those narrowed-eyed looks that
most
girls have down to perfection.

Ah, hell.

“Yeah, she did,” I said more to Denise than to Trey, followed by a quick, “but that’s part of the game, right? She really hadn’t been drinking any more than I had.” I shot Ray a quick look that practically screamed
Help me, dammit!

Before he could jump in and save the day, I heard Trey’s deep breath.

“Alright,” he started, “It doesn’t matter if she was drinking. I just wanted to know what happened to you. Now, if you all will excuse me, I gotta go do some things.”

What. The…?

I would've replied to that except I wasn't sure what was going to come out of the guy’s mouth next. Luckily, Denise edged herself into the conversation again.

“Well, thank you, Mr. Sinclair for bringing Tylar here to the hospital. She’ll be like brand new in a couple days. You practically won’t even know that she’s gone!” She confettied that last statement with a false laugh, which sobered right up the second Trey gifted her with a dark look. Still, the woman soldiered right on through. “We’re just goin’ to get her bathed right up, and she’ll be nearly sparklin’.”

“Thank you,” Trey tossed at her before he threw a last glance my way. “Make sure she stays in the shallow end.”

And then he was gone. Just like that.

Chapter 4

Trey had just left when Ray spoke up, concern lacing his voice.

"Ty, we've been trying like crazy to contact your mom. We wanted to let her know what happened. Have you spoken with her?”

“No, not since she drove me to the bus station in Louisville to come here,” I answered.

“Maybe you wrote the wrong number on your emergency contact form.”

“Doubtful, but I’d have to see it to be sure. I have her number programmed into my cell though.”

“Where’s your cell?”

“Back at my cottage.”

“Okay,” he said, “I'm gonna fetch it and bring it to you this evening, okay? You need to let your mom know where you are and that you're okay.”

“Sure, okay, Ray.”

Boy, he did not know my mom; that was certain.

Ray?” I said, letting my curiosity get the best of me.

“Yes, darlin’?”

“You know there are rumors floating around the place about Trey and some scandal with his former fiancée. I wondered—”

“Damn gossip,” Ray interrupted, frowning. “Ty, that's all it is. I don’t know the particulars of what you’ve heard; all I know is that Trey's someone that I trust completely."

Denise came bouncing back into my hospital room at that moment, smiling and carrying some type of cosmetic case.

“Good news for you, girlie,” she said with a broad smile. “I'm cleared to help you with a shower. We’ll get your hair washed and conditioned, and who knows, maybe add a pinch of my magic dust to it to give you a bit of a new look, that’s if you’re game and trust me with it.”

“Oh my God yes, Denise!” I laughed. “Please make me look better!”

“Great!” she chirped. “Okay, Ray outta here, baby. We girls have some magic to work. I'll call you later to pick me up. And let Jenna in Ty's cottage to get her some proper sleepwear and bring it with you when you come back, darlin'."

“Yes, dear” he replied, trying his best to sound like the over-burdened boyfriend.

The shower felt exquisite. I lathered my hair with shampoo, twice, then rinsed and conditioned. Once I’d toweled off, Denise had me sit on the bedside chair while she combed out my wet locks. “Now, I’m going to spray on a little detangler here, hun,” she explained. "And I gotta ask, are you particularly fond of wearing your hair this long?" she asked me, wrinkling her nose slightly.

“Why?” I asked, eying her a bit suspiciously, noting she wasn't fond of my current hairstyle.

My thoughts strayed back to my freshman year of high school, two days before class pictures were being taken. Mom decided that my hair needed a bit of a trim before picture day. My hair fell to my shoulders and I loved the way it swung softly about.

“Just an inch or so, Ty,” Mom prods. “Just let me get the split ends off. It will lay better and look much healthier for your pictures. If I’m paying for those pictures then you can damn well make sure you look your best in them, hear?”

An hour later, I look at the pile of hair laying on the bathroom floor in shock. I grab the hand mirror off the vanity. I see the look of horror that appears on my face as I see my own reflection. My hair is in a short, butch cut. My mom's beside me, watching my reaction. I turn and face her incredulously.

“Now don’t blame me!” she says, holding her hands up defensively. “You got that funny shaped head and it makes it hard when I’m trying to even up both sides of it. Had to keep taking more off so I could get it evened up, but I think it’s cute. You ought to see the back. I think they call this a bob.”

When she sees I’m not buying it she gets more flustered with me. “It’s just hair, dammit! It’s not like it won’t grow back. I swear, I try and do something nice for my girl and do you think she appreciates it? Hell no - no way!"

“I’m sorry, I’m sure once I wash and style it myself it will be fine. I'm sorry, Mom."

“Hello? Earth to Tylar?” It was Denise’s voice bringing me back to the present. “How about it? I've a really cute cut in mind. I’ll mostly just put it in long layers to frame around that beautiful face of yours. Maybe add a few highlights?” she coaxed eagerly. “Nothing major, mind you, just to soften the look and highlights will give this gorgeous hair of yours more depth. What do you think?"

“Go for it, Denise,” I allowed.

Forty-five minutes later Denise had finished.

“All done,” she announced pleased with the look. We hurried into the bathroom so she could show me the results. Flipping on the light, she spread out her arms. “Voila!”

“Wow,” I said, then another “Wow!”

“You like?” she beamed proudly.

“Uh, Denise, actually, it looks…I look like—”

“—Rachel!” she squealed, delighted that I recognized the cut.

I swung my head from side to side. The layers bounced. I stared at my reflection. How could I not love looking like Jennifer Aniston’s hair double?

Denise was clearly pleased with her workmanship. My hair was now an exact replica of Jennifer Aniston’s style from, oh, what? Like fifteen years ago? As long as it was still long enough to pull up into a ponytail when I worked I could hang with it. I knew Denise was waiting for more.

“Denise,” I said, turning to her and smiling, “I love it!”

I gave her a big hug and watched as she beamed proudly.

Chapter 5

I was alone in my hospital room for the first time all day. I figured I might as well get dressed for bed.

I went to the bathroom and changed into a clean hospital gown, wishing I'd asked Ray to bring a nightgown or sleep shorts to me from my cottage.

I clutched the edges of the open back together, even though there was no need since it was just me and made my way back to my bed.

“Well, Ms. Preston, I see hospital garb suits you well.”

“Oh!” I exclaimed, startled. Trey was half sitting, half sprawled out in the only cushioned chair in the room. He'd taken his suit jacket off and tossed it over the back of the chair. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top, his tie was loosened. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to just below his elbows. His sapphire blue eyes seemed even darker as they flickered appreciatively over my body, coming to rest on the generous cleavage created by the too-small camisole. I scrambled into my bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. I could feel the blush coloring my face; I glared at him for causing it. He chuckled, displaying that magnificent dimple.

He approached the side of my bed. He lifted a lock of my newly highlighted, layered hair, thoughtfully
rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger.

“I like it,” he said thoughtfully. “Denise did a very nice job on your hair.”

“Thank you,” I managed a smile.

“It’s not exactly
my
style, but I guess I'll get used to it."

“You’re extremely beautiful, but I suspect you knew that already."

I blushed at the compliment, not quite sure how to respond to this unfamiliar territory. Maybe a change of subject would take those piercing blue eyes off of me.

“Tre…I mean Mr. Sinclair?” I started, "Why are you here?"

“Please, let’s dispense with this ‘Mr. Sinclair’ stuff once and for all,” he said, laughing and waving his hand dismissively. “After all, I’ve seen parts of you over the course of the past few days that clothes would never cover if it were up to me. It’s Trey, okay?”

I blushed when I tried to imagine the extent of what he'd seen.

“You and I need to discuss a few matters, if you’re not too tired at the moment?”

“I’m fine,” I answered, “in fact, I feel almost back to normal. I get to go home tomorrow."

“Actually you were released today,” he said. “I insisted they keep you over at least another day or two so that arrangements can be made.”

“I’m not sure what you mean about arrangements.”

“Several of the staff members have attempted to reach your mother on the number listed in your personnel file. It's no longer a valid cell phone number. It could've been put into our computer system in error. I'd like for you to call her now, please.”

“I've no problem calling my mom,” I replied, “but wouldn’t she be a little late to the party since I’m fine now?”

He handed my cell phone to me, his eyes now searching my face.

“What?” I asked.

“Call your mother,” he instructed. “She needs to know what’s going on and I need to know what your plans are so that I can schedule adjustments with the staff.”

I took my phone from him and pulled up my mom’s number. It didn’t ring. There was a three-tone signal followed by a digital recording stating that the number dialed was either out of service or had been disconnected. No further information was available. I snapped the phone shut and let it fall onto my bed.

Trey looked at me expectantly, “Well?”

“It’s either out of service or has been disconnected. You had the right number after all.”

“Is this typical of your mom?” he questioned.

“Nothing's
typical
about my mom.”

"Tylar,” he implored, “there must be a friend, a neighbor, someone you can call to get word to your mom about your injury.”

“Look,” I snapped, “maybe she hasn’t paid her cell phone bill. It happens. If you think for one minute that my mother wants me back in her house to make sure I recover to your expectations, well then you're delusional. She has her own life to live and apparently, that's what she's doing. That phone works both ways you know. It’s not as if she has called me in the last three weeks. If you don’t believe me, check the call log for yourself.”

Trey was momentarily taken aback by my outburst. “What about a job? Does she work somewhere that we can call?”

“She works Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday for Findley, Morris & Sneed. It’s a law firm in Louisville.”

He sighed audibly, walking over to the side of the bed where I could see him.

“I'll have someone here tomorrow to take you back to your cottage, okay?”

“Thank you,” I replied. “Could you please have them bring something for me to wear?”

“Sure,” he responded politely. “Ray and I'll review the staffing schedule to see who we can move around to cover your duties and where we might put you in the interim.”