Authors: Rachel Cross
“How far is it?” she asked, overriding Asher’s vehement “God no. No ambulance!”
“Twenty minutes.” He pointed east.
“I’ll drive him then,” she said.
Thirty minutes later, they reached the hospital. Thirty minutes of listening to an
irritable Asher lampoon her car. She was starting to regret giving him a ride.
The hospital scene was the height of absurdity. People in the emergency room waiting
room recognized Asher, wanted autographs and tried to chat with him. The ER staff
was no better when they brought him back. Despite his injury he was laughing and joking
and listening to people reminisce about Spade shows.
“Listen … uh … Miss,” she paused to read the name tag of the attractive nurse
who had taken Asher aside and was regaling him with her favorite Spade videos, “can
you check him out? Or find someone who can?”
Maddy wasn’t of the opinion that celebrities should get special treatment — far from
it — but Asher was getting paler by the minute and no one seemed to want to evaluate
him. The nurse left and a white-haired man in a lab coat, who had no idea what the
fuss was about, asked Asher to lie on the table.
Maddy averted her eyes when Asher removed his shirt. He noticed. “Squeamish, Maddy?
There’s no blood.”
She watched him hoist himself up on the table, muscles rippling under golden skin
and felt a surge of lust so powerful she clenched her thighs together as a shiver
moved through her.
“Mmmm. I’m sending you for an x-ray. You might have broken a rib or two. If you’re
lucky it’ll just be bruising, which can still cause significant pain,” the doctor
said.
In short order a group of nurses clustered in the room, ready to walk him back to
the lab. Maddy looked heavenward.
Asher handed Maddy his wallet and she took out his ID and insurance card and gave
them to the receptionist, who had come in the room.
Thirty minutes after that procedure, the doctor came back, clearing the two nurses
from the room. “Mr. Lowe, the good news is nothing is broken. But you’re going to
be pretty sore for a few days. It shouldn’t cause any complications. Rest and you’ll
heal faster.”
• • •
No sooner had they returned to the Honda when Asher started up again about her car.
“Asher. You’re pissing me off,” Maddy snapped.
Asher shifted on the seat and tugged on the vinyl belt across his chest. “Tough.”
“It has airbags, great fuel economy, it’s reliable — ”
“No.”
“What do you mean ‘No’? It’s my car. Listen, Mr. Silver Spoon — ”
“
You
listen. I lost my sister in a crash.”
Maddy spared him a glance. Amazing how quickly he could go from charming and flirtatious
with the emergency room staff to irritable and angry with her.
He was practically snarling, his hands fisted in his lap. “I’m not going to have you
riding around in this … this … car,” he ground out. “I won’t have it.” He shook
his head and half turned, grimacing in pain. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice.”
Maddy watched him out of the corner of her eye.
He scanned the rear and spotted Ella’s car seat. “And Ella has been riding around
in
this
? Unacceptable.”
Maddy clenched her teeth together and pulled off the freeway and into a gas station.
She put the car in park with a shaking hand and turned off the ignition, seething.
“You outta gas?”
She turned toward him in the seat. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Me?”
“Yes. Out on
that
road in
that
car, going way too fast. You don’t get to have a death wish. It’s not about you anymore,
Asher, or hadn’t you noticed? You’re now responsible for the life of a
child.
You don’t get to be reckless. You don’t get to avoid her. Not if you want to keep
her.”
His lips pressed together so tightly they were nearly white. She couldn’t see his
eyes behind the sunglasses, but his face was set, rigid. “Who do you think
you
are threatening me?”
“Who do you think you are to lecture
me
about the safety of my car?
Me
! I drive like a freaking ninety-year old on tranquilizers when I have Ella in the
backseat. I’m sick of it. I’ve only been here two weeks … ” Her breath caught on
an angry sob and she turned away from him to stare out the windshield. “And I’m not
even sure what I’m doing. I don’t know how to help her with her grief, and you’re
…
unavailable
.” She dashed away angry tears then turned the key and the engine came to life.
Asher reached over and covered her hand on the steering wheel, grimacing at the movement.
“Okay,” he said, softly. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
She shot him a look. “Asher, I’m just the help. She’s your family. And yes, this car
is fifteen years old, but it’s paid for, and given my student loans, I’m not sure
I can get a loan for — ”
Asher groaned. “Maddy, I’m not asking
you
to buy a car. I know you’re not in a position to do that.”
Oh, yeah. He’d had her checked out. He knew she didn’t have two cents to rub together
and a boatload of debt.
“You want me to use one of your cars?” She pulled out of the gas station and back
onto the freeway.
“Hell, no. My cars aren’t known for their safety records. Most of them don’t even
have a rear seat.”
Asher tapped at his phone with an air of distraction for a few minutes, and then made
a call.
“Justin? Asher. I wrecked the Aston Martin on Stunt Drive. California Highway Patrol
may be calling you, or a tow company, possibly the media. Yes, yes, I’m fine. Maddy
took me to get checked out.”
There was shouting from the other end of the phone and Asher pulled it away from his
ear. She snuck a glance, wide-eyed.
“I’ve already been given an effective lecture, Justin. Done?” There was a pause. “Yes.
Good. Now I need you to get me a Mercedes for Maddy to drive, preferably a ML350 SUV.
Loaded. Color?” He grinned. “Red. Hell, yes, I’m serious. Have you seen what she drives?
I’m not having her drive my niece around in that. See ya.” Asher tried to put the
phone in his pocket, grunted in pain, then gave up and put it on the console.
Life was so unfair. She couldn’t pay her mom’s twenty thousand dollar debt yet she’d
be driving around a car that likely cost twice that.
“Asher, I am not driving a Mercedes. It’s excessive and … and ostentatious!”
“It’s one of the safest vehicles on the road. End of discussion.” He ignored her protests
for two full minutes before he spoke up again. “Maddy, you will not win this argument.”
She braked for a light and couldn’t help noticing that he put a hand to his head.
She was quiet the rest of the ride.
Later that afternoon, a car dealer dropped off the SUV. He even installed Ella’s car
seat. Burgundy on the outside — the closest to red they had without special ordering
— it had a rounded dashboard with wood paneling and leather. The seats were a neutral
crème, pure elegance, and Maddy hated it on sight.
• • •
Asher leaned against the kitchen counter with a full mug of hot chocolate, reveling
in the warm, golden glow of the early morning light coming through the windows and
watching Maddy go about her morning routine with Ella. He hadn’t been up this early
regularly in … well, ever. And he found himself enjoying his revised schedule, watching
and occasionally participating in the preparations for the day, which included gummy
vitamins, a breakfast bar, and a packed lunch. Ella had been living here six weeks,
Maddy four. She was a miracle worker.
“Ella, get your shoes, honey,” Maddy said, crossing over to Asher with a smile as
she put the dishes in the sink.
His niece brought her lace-up sneakers, and sat on the kitchen chair as Maddy crouched
down in front of her to tie them.
Maddy kept up a steady stream of banter about school the entire time.
Curious, Asher walked over to the table and peered over her shoulder. What was taking
so long? Maddy attempted to tie the shoelaces again. Then again. He studied her thin
hands with their red, swollen knuckles, some of the fingers on her right hand off
kilter. An involuntary sound escaped him.
She cast a quelling look over her shoulder.
He crouched next to her. “Let me,” he said, reaching for Ella’s foot.
Maddy held it away from him. “No, I’ll do it.”
Ella’s wide-eyed, brown gaze darted from one adult to the other.
Maddy sighed. “Please, Asher.”
It was obvious her hands were stiff, probably painful, and he was surprised by her
lack of dexterity. He rarely thought about her condition anymore. It didn’t seem to
affect her. But now, watching her struggle, his chest grew tight.
She finished tying the first shoe.
Asher reached to take the second shoe from her, aware of Ella’s curious gaze.
“Asher.” She met his eyes calmly. “Ella can see that I have trouble tying her laces,
especially in the morning, but I try until I get it, right Ella?”
“Right, Maddy.”
He sat back on his heels, his throat thickening as she put the shoe on the little
foot with her swollen, gnarled hands. It took her two laborious attempts to tie the
laces.
She glanced up into his face and whispered, “It’s okay.”
He rose to his feet.
But it wasn’t okay. There were those reports from his investigator. Apparently she’d
left college between her junior and senior years due to health problems. Mrs. Anderson
had spent a small fortune in medical bills. Medical bills that had led to a bankruptcy
and ongoing financial problems. Was Maddy having a flare up of the disease? He knew
what rheumatoid arthritis was, or he thought he did. He’d researched it soon after
meeting her on the plane because he needed to be sure it wouldn’t get in the way of
caring for Ella. So far it hadn’t. Until this morning, he hadn’t realized the million
little things that were difficult for her. There must be
something
that could be done.
He snapped his attention back to the scene in the kitchen as he realized Maddy was
speaking to him. “Asher, will you take Ella to the bus stop this morning?”
He nodded and held out his hand to help Maddy up. He ran his thumb over the tops of
her small hands. Hands that must give her pain.
She scowled and tugged it away. “Don’t pity me,” she hissed.
“I don’t pity you,” he replied, his eyes searching hers, astonished by the tenderness
that swept through him. “Does it hurt?”
She cut her gaze to Ella, gave a quick negative shake of her head then turned to grab
Ella’s lunch from the counter.
“Backpack,” she reminded, following them to the front door. She kissed Ella on the
cheek and knelt to give her a hug. “Have a good day, honey.”
“Can we go for frozen yogurt after school?”
“We’ll see.”
Ella’s face fell and she whispered to Asher, “That means no.”
Maddy smiled. “It means maybe.”
It was impossible to keep pace with a five-year-old. She was either skipping ahead
or dawdling behind, all the while keeping up a steady stream of chatter about her
reading buddy, a fourth grader named Olive, and what she wanted Santa to bring her
for Christmas. Christmas! It wasn’t even Thanksgiving. In the past, he’d taken off
and headed to Cabo or Hawaii with a girlfriend or group of friends. Last year he’d
taken someone — Natasha, if memory served — to a tiny island in the South Pacific;
he had vague memories of scuba diving, sailing, and squabbles.
Family holidays were out of the question after that disastrous Vegas Christmas three
years ago. Dee had spent half of the time pleading with him to stop baiting his father,
and the other half telling Sterling to quit being so argumentative. Asher had made
an effort — the first day. But the continual tension had left them all on edge and
he’d flown back to LA before things could come to a head with the old man. His stomach
churned. If only Dee hadn’t reconciled with Sterling. If only he’d had more time with
her.
This year he’d be celebrating with someone who still believed in Santa. He made a
mental note to talk to Justin about getting a tree, lights, ornaments — the whole
shebang. It would be lonely with just him and Ella since Justin and his partner had
plans to go on a cruise that week and Maddy was going home to Virginia.
Asher walked up the steps to his house, entered and closed the front door. He was
going to trash every last pair of lace up shoes Ella owned and replace them with ones
with Velcro. After he made a phone call.
He came down the stairs thirty minutes later and deposited the paper bag with three
pairs of lace up shoes near the front door. “Maddy?”
She stepped out of the living room into the hallway, a mug in hand.
“Can we talk? I have a couple of things I want to discuss with you.”
“Sure.” She followed him across the gleaming wood floor to the enormous chocolate
suede sectional and tucked herself into the corner.
Had she winced just then?
He seated himself a foot away, turning to study her. Odd. When he’d met her on the
plane, he could have sworn she wasn’t beautiful. Barely pretty. Now? He was … attracted.
No, more than that. His body rebelled against this ridiculous celibacy with surges
of lust toward her at utterly inappropriate times. He’d never met anyone less inclined
to play the temptress, and yet, everything, every move she made, was enticing. Was
it because he couldn’t have her? Was he so used to getting whatever he wanted that
now he only wanted what he couldn’t have? He grimaced. If that was the case, he was
pretty fucked up.
He’d been out a handful of times in the last few weeks and hadn’t jumped in bed with
anyone. He didn’t want to bring anyone here and he couldn’t seem to work up enough
interest to take a woman to a hotel. Maybe he needed to hit some better parties or
clubs. Then there was the getting up early thing. He didn’t feel as disconnected as
he had the first few weeks after Dee’s death. Maybe he was coming out of his funk.