Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Holt
Mookie looks up at me like she didn’t just leave the world’s largest dookie to come from the body of a seven-pound Yorkie. She stares at me with those dark unblinking eyes, like the queen of fuckin’ England, waiting for her loyal subject to clean up her mess. Which I do, because I’m a responsible pet owner. Plenty of kids run right through here during the summer as they play along the lake, getting out their energy before the parents call them inside for dinner.
“Did you get it all out?” I ask Mookie sarcastically as I bend over with a little plastic baggie over my hand. I hope to God it’s big enough to do the job. Mookie’s snout opens and she begins to pant with her tongue hanging out. She’s definitely laughing at me.
This is supposed to be a quick walk before I head off to work on this Friday before Memorial Day weekend. The town of Anchor Lake has a long list of activities planned for all ages, and I intend to indulge in as many of the activities as I can. I’ll be solo. As usual, but maybe I can strike up a conversation with some of the men around town. I’ve buried my head in work for far too long.
Mookie trots back into the cabin I’ve been renting for over two years now. It feels like home, way more than the Miami penthouse I freaking own. I get my rescue dog settled with plenty of food, water, and at least ten doggie toys before I climb into my Jeep and head to the retirement community for a full day of physical therapy appointments.
If you’d have told me five years ago I’d be settled back in my home town with a steady job, no longer traveling the country and building my therapy empire, I’d have called you nuts. The company I own mostly runs itself these days, and I’ve found the slower tempo of a small town to be soothing to my frenetic brain. I snort and shut off the engine once I find a parking spot. I must be getting old. Thirty-four is starting to feel like midlife if the highlight of my day is walking my itty-bitty dog.
“Good morning, Holt,” Megan purrs, leaning against the nurses’ station, her ass highlighted in bright pink scrubs as she sticks it out. She flips her long, curled red hair behind her shoulder, giving me a look I know all too well.
“Morning,” I reply curtly, breezing past her without a second glance. That nurse is dangerous. She’s been flirting with me since the day I moved back to Anchor Lake. So far, I haven’t taken her up on any of her blatant offers, and I don’t intend to. Everything about her screams psycho clinger. After one failed marriage, you start to be a bit more selective.
“Got a situation with Gracie,” Debbie chirps, shoving a file in my hands before I can even set my bag down. Debbie, Sunny Shores’ head nurse, wears scrubs too, but she doesn’t stick her ass out or resort to any other blatant flirting. She’s no nonsense like a drill sergeant. She also has the short haircut of a nineties Midwest woman with a propensity to go overboard on the gel. Roosters see her and experience jealousy.
After dumping my bag at my feet, I flip the file open and glance over it. “Shit.” Gracie Thatcher is my favorite patient. She’s also a permanent fixture in the Anchor Lake community.
“For fuck’s sake,” Debbie grouses, shoving a pair of glasses at me when she notices me squinting. I toss her a thank-you smile she ignores and then slide them on so I can accurately read the report. Debbie’s a hard nut to crack, but I know she loves me. Why else does she carry a pair of glasses with my exact prescription in her scrubs just to help me when I forget my own pair?
“I can help you out if you’re short-staffed,” Megan offers, inching closer. She gets cut off by Debbie.
“If you have free time you’re donating, you can start by giving John Betrowski his suppository.”
I barely swallow the bark of laughter. Megan leaves without another word, knowing it’s best to leave with your tail between your legs when Debbie’s in a mood. She’s watching the junior nurse walk down the hall. When she turns back to me, she scans my face, like she’s checking on me before she launches into what happened with Gracie.
I’m only here three days a week. The other two days are spent at another retirement center I own about an hour drive from here. I have plenty of staff to run both places without me, though I prefer to keep my hand in the mix of things. Most of the staff think I’m just the head physical therapist. Being the owner is a secret I intend to keep as it makes my life easier. People tend to clam up and act weird when they find out you own a multimillion-dollar company and have the authority to fire them. Debbie though? She knows all my secrets, even the ones I’ve forgotten about.
“She fell in the middle of the night, so we didn’t get to her until approximately an hour after when she finally remembered to press the button on her bracelet,” Debbie says quietly.
“Just a mild concussion, then?” The file didn’t mention any broken bones.
“Yep.”
“Did you contact Sean?” I mention the lawyer we keep on staff for Sunny Shores.
“Yep. First call after I got her doctor in to do a full physical.” Debbie puts her hand on my arm. “She’s not going to sue you, don’t worry.”
I snap the file shut. “I’m not worried about that. I’m thinking about the stat that’s drilled into our heads about the elderly being one fall away from death.” Leaning on the counter at the nurses’ station, I rub my forehead where a headache is brewing. “You know she used to hand out popsicles to us kids every summer. All the best flavors too. But if you tried to take two, she’d slap your hand for being a selfish asshole.”
Debbie chuckles, her double chin wobbling. “Yep, that sounds just like her. Sweet and spicy.”
I slip the glasses off my face and into the pocket of my scrubs. Debbie rattles off two patients I need to see before heading off to help the higher-level-care patients. I stow my bag behind the desk. Because I’ve hired enough physical therapy assistants under me to generally come and go as I please, I’m able to head straight to Gracie’s condo, where she’s been independently living for close to five years. The flowers in brightly colored pots outside her door are a nice touch that makes the condo feel like a real home, not just a place to sleep at night.
I knock on the front door but no one answers. I check my watch. Gracie’s usually awake by now and waiting for me to come say hello. It’s our little routine I’ve come to rely on almost as much as she does. Alarm bells ring in my head. The doorknob gives under my hand, silently turning and letting me push the door open.
“Hello?” I call in a whisper-shout, moving rapidly into the condo.
Gracie’s not in her usual chair in the living room, watching the news and lobbing her opinions at the newscasters. I pick up the pace and head for her bedroom. The door is pulled closed but not latched. With a slight creak, I push the door open. My feet stay rooted to the thick carpet at the threshold when I catch sight of a woman in a chair next to Gracie’s bed, where my favorite patient is sleeping.
The woman’s head snaps up and all the air leaves my lungs. She’s stunning. Long blonde hair with a beachy natural curl. Sky-blue eyes that turn up at the corners. Plump, pink lips against smooth pale skin. She’s not wearing makeup, at least as far as I can tell without my glasses and from this far away. Her lips part and I get this weird deja vu feeling that I’ve talked to this woman before.
“What are you doing?” she hisses, giving me an exaggerated frown that does not do one thing to mar the beauty of her face.
I stare like the fucking tongue-twisted idiot I am. No words come out. Not even my scrubs seem to register for either of us because the next moment, she’s out of her chair, her finger extended toward me like she intends to use it as a weapon.
“Maple, darling!” Gracie’s thin voice warbles into the charged silence.
We both look back to the bed to see Gracie awake. Her lined face is set in a confused smile. The woman rushes back over to Gracie’s side while dots start painting my vision.
Maple?
No, no, no. No. It can’t be Maple, the girl I kissed when I was fourteen. Could it? There’s no way. I never saw her again after that summer. After that incredible first kiss that I ruined with my fucking nerd glasses.
Gracie turns her head and her face lights up when she sees me standing there. “Oh! And you brought your fiancé!”
I nearly swallow my tongue, only adding to my current issue of appearing mute. At some point, I assume I’ll need to utter at least a word or two. My lungs ache and I belatedly remember to suck in some air. That seems to fade the spots across my vision, so there’s that. I take one single step into the room, ready to clear Gracie’s confusion before Maple can scoff at the idea of me being her fiancé. Pretty sure just walking away from her without a word twenty-some-odd years ago didn’t help her have a favorable opinion of me.
Except Maple somehow rounds the bed in a flash, slides her arm around my waist, and snuggles into my side. Her perfume hits my senses first, then the warmth of her body. I’ve smelled grapefruit, roses, and cedarwood before, but combined together and attached to the ethereal Maple from my youth is enough to have my lips slamming shut again.
“That’s right, Grandma!” Maple says on a giggle, her head coming to rest against my shoulder.
My arm doesn’t know what to do. It just hangs there behind her back as she squeezes my waist tighter in some sort of silent communication I have zero hope of understanding. My fingers twitch, wanting to touch her, but I’m absolutely certain resting my hand against her lower back and the thin cotton tank top that covers her will somehow be very, very bad.
I emit a choking noise, and somewhere in the back of my brain, I’m slapping the shit out of myself. Get it together, man! I’m not Holt McGrath of twenty years ago, zero experience with girls and afraid he’s a big enough nerd he might never land a girlfriend. I’ve been married and divorced, for fuck’s sake!
“Oh, Maple of mine.” Gracie clutches her bony hands under her chin and sniffles. “I’m so happy to see you in love. I’ve been holding out until I see you two get married. Can’t die until I’ve seen my favorite grandchild set for life!”
Out of nowhere, Maple pinches the shit out of my side. I nearly jump out of my tennis shoes, but the pain does the trick. My mouth quits catching flies and attempts words.
“What the…” I whisper out of the side of my lips, only to be cut off by Maple.
“Grandma Gracie. You’re not dying!” she exclaims, letting me go to rush back over to the bed and lean over her grandmother.
Gracie lets out a long-suffering sigh, looking nothing like the energetic pistol I talked to just two days ago. Shit. I need to talk to her doctor. Minor concussion? She was showing some signs of dementia prior to the fall, but she hasn’t even recognized me today. She thinks I’m Maple’s fiancé? Her mental confusion is worse than the report alluded to.
“Oh, I’m a tough old broad, Maple. You know that, but everyone has their expiration date. The good Lord has given me close to eighty wonderful years. Seems like it’s a bit selfish to ask for more. I just want to spend this last summer with you, see you two get married, and I’ll happily slip away.”
“Grandma!” Maple gasps.
I blink, pulling myself away from my thoughts at the tone in Maple’s voice. She’s extremely worried about Gracie, and so am I. Stepping over to the bed, I put my hand on Maple’s back. She stiffens at the contact. I’m not sure what I can do to make this situation better, but what I won’t do is add to Maple’s emotional distress. So after clutching on to the bachelor lifestyle with both hands in a death grip since my divorce, I put that aside to pretend to be someone’s betrothed. It’s the least I can do after kissing her and walking away without a word all those years ago like an absolute nerd.
Besides, it’s temporary. What can it hurt?
“Let’s see if we can talk to Grandma Gracie’s doctor, my little moonbeam.” My thumb takes liberties and sweeps across her spine. I’m not sure if it’s her or me who shivers.
Wow, that sounded dumb, even to my own ears. Maybe I should have stayed mute. All I can remember is the full moon lighting the night when I kissed Maple and out came the moonbeam endearment from my mouth.
Maple straightens and gapes at me. Then she remembers her part and nods, leaning into me and burying her face in my chest. I wrap an arm around her shoulders and breathe her in, trying really hard to focus on Gracie’s medical issues and not how good it feels to be pressed against her granddaughter’s warm body. I notice a pair of spectacular breasts pressing against my torso that I would swear on my life young-Maple did not have. I notice, but I try not to, okay?
Honestly, I have no idea what I just walked into.
How did I not know Maple was Gracie’s granddaughter?
And why does Maple smell so fucking good?