CHAPTER THREE
Even Chloe couldn’t help but return the huge man’s friendly smile. Cleetus had made her and Dylan feel as if they were family the moment they’d met him. Sweet. That was the only way to describe him.
“Just a little bit ago, Cleetus,” she said as she walked over to get one of his big hugs. “I’m kidnapping Bobby tonight for a sisters-only slumber party at the inn.” She stepped back to look up at him with a bit of mischief. “So, is Sylvie the same cute little girl who did Bobby’s hair and nails today?”
The most charming blush filled his face, but his smile got even bigger, if that was possible. “Sure is.”
“And how long have you two been an item?” she asked, relaxing as she teased him.
“Since back at the end of the summer,” he answered, shrugging out of his jacket. He hung it on the coatrack, then went to his desk in the center of the room. “Right before the fires started.”
Suddenly Chloe lost her interest in teasing Cleetus. “Bobby mentioned you were injured in one of those. Something about a house exploding. Are you okay?”
“Sure am. Just got a nasty bump on my noggin.”
“It was a bit more serious than that, Cleetus,” the other deputy said. “What he’s failing to mention is how he got injured saving Sylvie moments before the house exploded.”
Chloe swung her attention to where the tall, intense man stood near the door. She’d almost forgotten he was in the room. His blue eyes seemed to lock on to her as if he were studying a suspect. Shaking off the odd feeling, she focused on Cleetus once more. “Bobby didn’t mention that. No wonder Sylvie’s falling hard for you. A woman always loves a man brave enough to come to her rescue.”
“Well, she sure is worth saving,” he said, the blush once more filling his face. He shuffled through some papers on his desk. “Where are you two headed?”
“Gage asked me to take Ms. Roberts over to the inn and then I’m headed to Petal Pushers to chat with Henry. Gage and Bobby went to talk with Doc Clint,” Wes said, stepping to the doorway. “That leaves you in charge.”
Cleetus nodded. “Got it. Everything okay with Gage and Bobby? Sylvie said Bobby looked a bit peakish over at the Dye Right.”
How in the world did Bobby tolerate all the small-town gossip?
“Everything’s okay. Gage just wanted to talk with him about something. We have to be going.” Wes opened the door and stood there with an expectant arch to his left brow. Chloe got the idea that he’d wait until the office was as cold as an iceberg for her to exit. He also seemed quite serious about the task of escorting her to the inn.
“I’ll see you later, Cleetus.” With a huge sigh she grabbed her bag once more and strode past the inscrutable deputy at the door. Almost from the moment she’d walked in, and other than when he’d caught her eye as her sister and her fiancé had kissed, Chloe felt as if he were studying her like an entomologist who’d discovered a rare bug. That he’d done so without her ever catching him staring irritated her.
She headed to the driver’s side of her BMW only to find Wes climbing into the passenger side. Really?
“I’m sure Gage didn’t mean for you to physically accompany me to the inn,” she said, turning in her seat to stare at him with the look she reserved for hostile witnesses. “I’m sure if you just give me directions that will fulfill any obligation you have to him.”
“I know exactly what my boss meant, Ms. Roberts,” Wes said without cracking a smile. She wondered if the muscles in his face knew how to make one. “I’m with you until you’re safe and sound in the inn.”
Safe and sound. Would she ever feel that way again?
“Fine,” she said with a huff, straightening in her seat and starting the engine as she shook off the unsettling thought.
She wasn’t a coward. Never had been. After their parents’ death, Bobby had infused her courage into her and Dylan, giving them the confidence that nothing bad was going to happen to them and they could do anything they set their minds to accomplishing. She refused to cower in fear.
So why did hear heart beat a little easier for the first time in weeks with the stoic deputy seated beside her?
“Okay, where exactly is the Westen Inn?”
“Two blocks up you turn left at the light.” Without commenting, he scooped up the two empty paper coffee cups from the passenger-side floor and set them in the bag of others she kept in the backseat. It was one of her habits to try and curtail her caffeine addition.
She checked the traffic on the street before pulling out and heading the direction he’d given her. A quick glance in the rearview mirror showed no one pulling out to follow her.
As she stopped at the red light, she checked again. Only an old pick-up truck was behind her. With a slow breath, she eased her grip on the steering wheel.
“So, you going to tell me who you’re afraid is following you?”
The quiet question in Wes’ deep baritone hit her like a sucker punch. She blinked and schooled her features before glancing at her passenger.
“Excuse me?” she asked, trying to appear confused by his question. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The light changed and she made the turn, happy to see the three-story Victorian with the sign for the inn at the end of the block. The sooner she got away from this man and his intense scrutiny, the better.
She parked across from the main entrance, hoping he wouldn’t ask her anymore questions.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, lawyer-lady,” he said, making no move to leave her car. “Ever since you pulled into town you’ve been looking over your shoulder, checking your phone but not answering it and as my daddy would say, as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”
He laid one big, warm hand over hers on the steering wheel and stared at her with those steel-blue eyes. “I’d appreciate it if you’d fill me in before you put my friends in danger.”
* * * * *
“Because of the HIPPA laws, I’m limited to what I can tell you about Margaret,” Dr. Clint Preston said, seated across from Gage and Bobby.
“We’re not asking for any personal information, Clint,” Bobby said. “Just wondering if there would be any reason for her to get the entire order for the wedding completely wrong.”
“Normally, I’d laugh at the idea that Mags would get any order wrong, but she is getting older,” Gage said, leaving the statement as an opening for his cousin-in-law. He didn’t know why he wanted to look in to the odd mistake at the florist shop, but something about the incident didn’t set well with him. Given all the weird things that had been happening the past year in Westen, he wasn’t taking any chances. Especially if it involved Bobby.
With his knuckles resting under his chin, Clint stared out his office window as if he was deciding exactly what he could tell them. Finally, he looked back at them and ran his hand over his lower face. “When she was initially injured, Mags denied blacking out when she hit her jaw on the sidewalk. I did a cursory neuro exam and she appeared normal. I don’t think I missed anything, but I was focused on the injuries on her arms and ankle.”
“How about since?” Again, Gage nudged Clint for more information.
“She was in last week. I don’t recall anything that might make me question her cognitive health. Harriett’s been visiting her daily, mostly to be sure she’s following the stay-off-your-feet-orders I gave her.” He pushed the button on the old-fashioned office intercom system. “Harriett, can you come in here?”
A moment later, his nurse stepped into his office and looked at him expectantly without a word or question.
Gage fought the grin that threatened as he watched the stare down between the doctor and nurse. Bobby coughed on a strangled chuckle beside him.
Clint blinked first. He fixed an exasperated look on the nurse he’d inherited from his uncle along with the clinic. “Harriett, when you’ve been on your daily visit out to Margaret Dubois, have you noticed any forgetfulness on her part?”
“Nope.”
Harriett’s curt words and abrupt conversational style was infamous in Westen, but right now, Gage sympathized with the doc’s frustration.
“No forgetfulness? No confusion? Nothing that would worry you?” Clint asked, and Gage swore he was clenching his teeth.
“She’s not on the appointment list,” Harriett said as if that should make all the sense in the world to the three of them.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Harriett fixed her gaze on Clint, but didn’t say anything more.
Clint’s eyes narrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line and Gage wondered if he was about to fire Harriett.
Suddenly Bobby smiled and jumped in her seat as if she’d just figured out the clue in an odd game of charades. “It means that everything is okay with Margaret or else Harriett would’ve put her on your schedule to have her checked out.”
Harriett gave a shrug and left the room.
Clint shook his head. “If it’s saving my own sanity, can I claim self-defense when I strangle her?”
At that point Gage gave up the fight and burst out laughing.
The interlude with Harriett lightened Bobby’s spirits, especially knowing that Mags was truly okay.
Funny how since moving to Westen she’d grown attached to many of the townsfolk, young and old. The idea that Mags might have made a mistake because she’d been injured, or worse, growing forgetful, upset her more than the mistake itself. After all, flowers could be replaced.
“I can make a trip over to Margaret and Henry’s after hours this evening before the bachelor party,” Clint said as they walked out to the porch that ran around the old Victorian-turned-clinic.
“Nah, I trust Harriett’s assessment,” Gage said, buttoning up his sheep-skin coat. “We’re going to go by their house on our way back to the office. If Mags seems off, I’ll give you a call.”
The clinic door opened behind them and Harriett stepped out onto the porch, holding a paper out to Bobby. “Here.”
Puzzled, Bobby took the note and opened it. The name of a doctor was on it. “What’s this?”
“Best OB in Columbus. Specializes in highrisk pregnancies—especially for older, first-time moms.”
Bobby blinked, then looked at Gage, who held up his hands. “I didn’t say anything to anyone, sweetheart.”
Her gaze swung to Clint, who had a happy, but surprised expression. “Is there something you guys want to tell me?”
Instead of answering him, Bobby turned back to ask Harriett how she knew, only to find the nurse had already disappeared into the clinic. She stared at the closed door. “How does she do that? She’s like an all-knowing yenta with the skills of a ninja.”
Gage laughed and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s a common belief in Westen that back during the cold war, Harriett was trained by the CIA in black ops.”
“Well that explains a lot,” Clint muttered beside them, then broke out in a big grin. “So how far along are you?”
In spite of the heat rushing to her face, Bobby returned his grin. “I don’t know. Maybe a month or so?”
Gage hugged her tighter. “We just found out this morning for sure.”
“Great. Harriett is right. Any first-time mother over the age of thirty-five is automatically in the high-risk category, so the sooner you get in to see the obstetrician the better. And I’m assuming you’re keeping this news quiet until after the honeymoon?”
“We’d appreciate it,” Bobby said. “We haven’t even had a chance to really process it ourselves. And I’ll need to tell my sisters first.”
“Then my lips are sealed, but congratulations.” Clint shook hands with Gage and pulled Bobby into a hug. As they started down the stairs, he called out. “Try to take it easy and not too much stress until you see the doctor, okay?”
The wind gusted and a shiver went down Bobby’s spine.