The Best Man's Bride (15 page)

The guy turned only fractionally, meeting Nick’s gaze over his shoulder. His eyes, a steely gray, flickered with recognition. “Yeah. Hey, Doctor, do you need something?”

“I thought you were off the clock.”

Broad shoulders shrugged. “I’ve got no place else to be.”

“I hear you,” Nick commiserated. He could find no place to escape thoughts of Colleen.

South sighed. “But I’ve got no one but myself to blame.”

“I hear you,” Nick repeated. He’d had a choice. He could have stayed in Cloverville—with Colleen. But he’d chosen to run.

“You know my name, Eric South,” the other man said, as he turned fully and extended the hand not holding a coffee mug to Nick.

Nick hesitated a moment before taking the hand and offering his name. Not because of any residual jealousy. The long, jagged scar on Eric’s left cheek had drawn all his attention. And concern. “Nick Jameson.”

Eric released his hand, then touched his scar—not self-consciously but as if used to people staring at it. “You should see the other guy.”

Nick visually examined the scar and evaluated it. “A fist didn’t do that damage. I’d say jagged metal, maybe glass fragments. Car accident?” Had he been in the car when Colleen struck the colonel?

“It was no accident,” Eric said, his voice hoarse. “Afghanistan.”

“How long have you been back?” Although the scar didn’t look fresh, South might have had a good reason for missing Josh’s wedding—a better reason than the bride could have had. But this man needed to see Josh, who’d undoubtedly have some ideas about how to repair the man’s scar.

“I’ve been back a couple of years.”

Nick nodded. “You were a medic over there.” Now he understood the paramedic’s skill.

“Yes, with the Marine Corps.”

“You did a good job with Westin.”

Eric nodded. “Heard you did, too.”

Nick shrugged. He didn’t want to discuss the surgery, which would have shocked the hell out of Josh who often got sick of shoptalk.

“Couldn’t have been easy,” the paramedic continued.

Nick’s arrogance had his chin whipping up. Even if a surgery were hard, he’d rarely admit it was. “No…”

“Because of your poison ivy,” Eric explained, gesturing toward the rash that could be seen on Nick’s arms. “I break out every time I set foot near Cloverville Park.”

Nick glanced down at his rash, remembering how he’d gotten it. He didn’t regret anything but leaving. “I gave myself a cortisone injection and made sure I wasn’t contagious before I came back to work.”

South nodded. “Still damned uncomfortable. So where’d you get it?”

“Cloverville Park. But you knew that,” Nick surmised.

The corners of Eric’s mouth lifted, the right side higher than the left, into a grin. “You’re the other one of the
GQ
docs.”

Nick’s jaw tightened. He really hated that nickname.

South nodded. “You’re the best man. Gossip around town is that you were spending time with Colleen McClintock.”

Not nearly enough time. “I should have known someone would hear about us.”

“There are no secrets in Cloverville.”

Nick grinned. “No, there aren’t. You were supposed to be in the wedding party, too.”

Eric nodded. “Yup, but there was no wedding.”

“No, there wasn’t.” And Nick suspected Eric South was a big part of the reason. “So you’re where Molly McClintock was staying.”

Eric nodded. “She’s gone home now.”

Maybe it was time Nick went home, too. To Cloverville. And Colleen.

Unable to sleep, just as she’d been every night since Nick had come to Cloverville, Colleen had risen at dawn and left for the park. Usually at this hour of the morning she had it to herself—just her and the colonel until Mr. Meisner brought Lolly for her morning walk.

But today she stepped through the gates to a cacophony of metal clanging against metal and the hiss of a torch. Occasionally—when the colonel’s head fell off—teenagers took it and positioned it in other areas of town. On top of mailboxes and the order-taking speaker of the drive-through window, for example. But no one had ever entirely dismantled the statue before. Although no one but her apparently cared, she’d already hurt their proud town founder; no one else should be allowed to do him more harm. She ran over to the colonel and yelled at the man who was welding. “Hey! What are you doing?”

The man shut off his torch, turned to her and lifted his welder’s mask. Pale green eyes gleamed in a dirty face. “Hello, there.”

If not for the wrinkles rimming his eyes and circling his jaw, the man could have been Nick. And he wasn’t dismantling the colonel; he’d actually been putting him back together. Properly.

“Hello?” she said, befuddled by his presence in Cloverville, in this park.

His pale eyes twinkled. “You’re Colleen McClintock.”

“You know who I am?” she asked, surprised. “Were you at the wedding?” She remembered Nick saying that Josh had named one of twins, TJ—Thomas Joshua—after Nick’s dad, so he’d undoubtedly been invited to the wedding.

He grimaced. “No, I was driving in for it, but I got caught in a traffic jam. Then Nick gave me a call on the cell phone the boy insisted that I have, and he told me to forget about it, that…”

“My sister had gone out the window?” she guessed.

He smiled. “So I turned around and missed out on the fun. I would have liked to have a dance with a pretty girl like you.”

“How do you know who I am?” she wondered.

“My son described you well.”

“He didn’t have to describe you,” she said. “He looks so much like you.”

He lifted his chin, as if offended. “Of course, I’m better looking.”

“Of course,” she agreed, and couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re Thomas Jameson.”

The older man grinned. “Only my mother ever called me Thomas, and usually when I was in trouble.” He winked before adding, “I was in trouble a lot. It’s Tommy to you, honey.”

Colleen’s smile widened. She saw now where Nick had inherited his charm. “Tommy, it’s nice to meet you.”

The old man whistled. “Nicky didn’t do you justice. You’re even more beautiful than he said.”

Now she laughed. “He didn’t warn me about what a flirt you are.”

But then he hadn’t ever expected her to meet his father. He’d left Cloverville because he wanted nothing more to do with her. She blinked back the threat of tears, but she couldn’t suppress the sting of pain over his rejection.

“I don’t understand what you’re doing here,” she admitted.

He lifted the blackened torch toward the colonel, whose head had been reattached. Even his hat and ear had been fixed so they were no longer dented and mangled. “Fixing this proud old soldier.”

Colleen sighed. For years the city council had refused to spend the money to properly fix the colonel. Mr. Carpenter hadn’t been the only spendthrift; Clayton, as a town council member, hadn’t wanted to repair the colonel, either. She realized now that he’d wanted a reminder of what he’d considered Abby’s carelessness. He’d wanted a reason to not fall in love with her. Since he’d finally admitted his love and put their mother’s old engagement ring on Abby’s finger, he must have decided it was past time to repair the town founder. “It’s long overdue.”

“That’s what my son thought,” Tommy Jameson said.

“So the town council didn’t hire you?”

He shook his head, rattling the welder’s mask. “No. Nicky did. Tried paying me, too, that crazy kid.”

Crazy kid? The serious, no-nonsense Dr. Jameson? No one at the hospital would have believed his father’s description of him.

“Nick asked you to come here from Grand Rapids?” she asked.

“Detroit, honey. I still live in Detroit, where I raised Nicky and his older brother, Bruce. He wants me to move, says the neighborhood’s getting bad.” He shrugged. “Maybe it is. Maybe I’ll consider moving now. This sure is a pretty town. But I really like being close to Evelyn.”

“Evelyn?” she repeated, reeling from all the information he’d divulged. Nick had grown up in Detroit?

“Evelyn, the boys’ mom.”

Of course. Nick had never told her anything about his mother. Or really about the rest of his family. His father’s name had only been mentioned in passing, when he’d told her the twins’ name. And what he’d told her about Bruce had probably been intended more as a warning than a confidence.

“She won’t consider moving?” Colleen asked.

Tommy’s eyes dimmed with sadness. “She’s dead, honey. Died shortly after Nicky was born.”

As if it hadn’t been bad enough that Nick had lost his older brother, he’d already lost his mother before that. “I’m sorry.”

“If it wasn’t for his brother, Bruce, and my mother, God rest her soul—” the old man lifted his eyes heavenward “—I don’t know how I would have managed. Nicky always was a handful.”

“I didn’t know.” Because Nick hadn’t told her. No wonder he didn’t trust women—he’d never known any who’d stuck around. Of course his mother hadn’t left by choice, but she wondered if Nick understood that.

“Oh, I think you know that the boy’s a lot of work,” Tommy said, obviously misunderstanding her remark. “He can try the patience of a saint.”

She glanced up at the mended statue of Colonel Clover. “I’m no saint.”

“Good,” he replied with satisfaction. “You’d only bore my son if you were.”

Her face heated with embarrassment. “Oh, no. We’re not together. You have the wrong idea about us.”

“If I have the wrong idea, honey—” his pale eyes gleamed with affection “—it’s because Nicky gave it to me.”

“I don’t know why he’d do that…” Not when he’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her.

The older man shrugged. “Then you should ask him to explain himself, because for the first time in a long time, I think the boy has finally got things figured out.”

Things? What about Colleen and his feelings for her? Had he figured those out? And if he had, why tell his father before he told her?

Of course she’d assured him that she hadn’t fallen in love with him. She’d lied to him; she’d kept her secret. Maybe it was time that Colleen stopped avoiding Nick and gave him a piece of her mind. It was only fitting since he already had her heart.

T
HE DOOR TO
N
ICK’S APARTMENT
crashed open, banging against the wall and drawing his attention from the box he was packing. The cat, its calico hair raised up like when the boys visited, streaked across the carpet toward the hall and probably the bottom of the linen closet, where it liked to hide.

“Hey, if you’re a thief, you’re not very subtle,” he remarked to whoever had broken into his place. “Did I leave the door unlocked?”

Because he hadn’t, the intruder had to be someone he knew. Only two people had keys to his condo—Josh and his dad. The soft footsteps didn’t sound as though they belonged to either one of them. His pulse quickened, not with fear but anticipation. He couldn’t see his intruder until she came around the pile of already packed boxes filling his apartment. Then his breath left his lungs. “Colleen.”

“Josh loaned me his key.”

His best friend might have called Nick, warned him that she was coming. So that he could have been prepared to see her again. Only a few days had passed since he’d left Cloverville but he’d missed her so much. How could he have forgotten the exact shade of her hair, of her eyes…the pale silk of her skin. She was so damned beautiful.

“Well, to be honest…” she said.

And he believed she was always honest.

“I didn’t give him much choice.”

“Who?” Him. She’d left him with no choice but to fall in love with her. At first sight.

“I left Josh no choice about giving me your key and directions to the condo.” She glanced around as if just noticing the boxes. “You’re moving?”

He nodded.

Her enormous eyes darkened with pain. “What? Grand Rapids isn’t far enough for you to get away from me?” She blew out an agitated breath. “Now I’m even angrier with you.”

“You’re angry with me? I wouldn’t have guessed from the way you broke down the door,” he teased, loving her feistiness.

She ignored him, her attention focused on the packed boxes. “Where are you going?”

“I’m moving
to
Cloverville,” he explained. “I bought the Barber house.”

“But you
hate
Cloverville. You never wanted to open the office there.”

“I was wrong.” And not just about Cloverville. “But why are you angry with me?”

She sucked in a breath, as startled as if he’d slapped her. “You admitted you were wrong?”

He laughed. “Yeah, Josh has been rubbing it in, too.” How the mighty have fallen and all that. He probably deserved it; he’d been an arrogant, above-it-all jerk for too long. Until he’d realized for himself that no one was
above
love.

The expression on Nick’s face as he looked at her, his pale eyes warm with affection, unnerved her. What had happened to him in the few days since she’d seen him last, rolling in poison ivy in the woods behind the park? While she hadn’t broken out, she could see that he had. He’d pushed up the sleeves of his jersey, where the healing rash had dried on his forearms. He wore an old hockey jersey with faded jeans, tight and worn at the seams. His feet, long and narrow, were bare, sinking into the plush beige carpet like the heels of her sandals.

She drew in a breath and struggled to focus on anything but him. Across the street from the tall windows of his condo, the Grand River rippled and glistened with afternoon sunshine. Nick had a great view and his condo development, in a renovated furniture factory, was just around the corner from the hospital. No wonder he’d balked at leaving Grand Rapids.

“Josh didn’t tell me you were moving to Cloverville.” Not that she’d given him much of a chance. After she’d left Nick’s father in the park, she’d been so furious that Josh hadn’t managed much more than a single word before handing her Nick’s key. Too bad she’d had to work, but Clayton, sensing her dangerous mood, had let her go early.

“Why are you mad at me?” he asked again.

She struggled to remember. Those pale green eyes stared at her, bright with emotion, and she lost track of her thoughts, of time itself. Then she remembered. “You fixed the colonel.”

“Dad worked on it, not me. Did he finish it?” He returned his attention to the box in which he’d been packing stereo components, ignoring her as he had all those years she’d volunteered at the hospital.

Her impatience surged back, and she kicked the box away from him.

Instead of responding with anger, the corners of his mouth lifted in an amused grin. “You’re that mad that I had Dad fix the colonel?”

“No.” Frustration frayed her nerves. But along with the frustration there was strength. Not only had she finally realized how strong she was, she’d tapped into that strength to fight for what she wanted.

Nick shook his head as if confused, but his eyes gleamed. “Then, I don’t understand.”

“I’m the one who doesn’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me about your mom? About where you grew up. How you grew up.” Tears burned her eyes, and she blinked furiously.

“No, you don’t have to answer that. I know you didn’t want to let me into your life. You didn’t want me to get any closer.”

“That’s right.”

He didn’t lie to her. She should appreciate that, but it deflated her anger, left her defeated. And hurt. And mad at herself now, for being stupid, for ignoring all those warnings—even her own—and falling for him anyway.

“I told you about my brother, though,” he reminded her.

“And that’s the toughest thing I’ve ever had to deal with. I didn’t even know my mom. I can’t remember her. It wasn’t like what you went through when you lost your dad. I was just a baby when she died.”

“How did she die?”

“A car accident.”

She nodded, understanding even more his reasons for becoming a doctor.

“Like I said, I don’t remember her. I don’t remember the crash, but my dad told me when I got old enough and started bugging him with questions.” He swallowed hard, as if struggling with emotion. “Bruce and I were in the car with her. Even though Bruce’s leg was broken, he got himself out and came back for me. The car had rolled over, but it was still running and leaking gas. Dangerous as hell, but he got me out and to safety. He couldn’t get to her in time, and he probably wouldn’t have been able to help her if he had. He’d been just a kid himself—only ten.”

She let the tears fall now, burning streaks down her face. No wonder Bruce had been his hero—he’d saved his life. And for years Nick had wished he’d been able to return the favor. Her heart ached for him. “I’m sorry. I know how much it hurts to lose a parent.”

“I don’t,” he said, as if dismissing her concern, her sympathy.

“I never knew her. You can’t miss what you’ve never known.”

Yet his voice held a wistful quality. He might not have known her personally, but Colleen was certain his father had talked about Evelyn so much that Nick regretted never having had a chance to know her.

His mouth lifted in a slight grin, the dimple a shallow indentation in his cheek. “And my dad is still around. He’s something else. Well, you met him.”

“He’s a sweetheart.” On her way out of town, she’d spied him in Mrs. Hild’s yard, admiring her flowers. The older woman’s face had been flushed pink, and Colleen suspected it wasn’t because of physical exertion in the yard. She’d been a widow for far too long to know how to handle a man’s attention. “He’s very charming.”

His grin widened. “Now you know where I get it.”

“Get what?” she teased, then giggled as he reached for her. His arms slid around her waist, but instead of pulling her close for a kiss, his fingers traveled up and down her ribs, tickling her until she squirmed free and dodged away from him.