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“Heard from who?” It certainly hadn’t been Emma. She preferred to keep the details of her breakup with Camden to herself.
“My grandmother. She and Bea sing in the church choir together. Bea wasn’t happy with the way your boyfriend treated you, and she let everyone in the choir know it.”
“That’s...embarrassing, but I don’t see what it has to do with what happened tonight.”
“Is it possible your ex is upset? That maybe he wants revenge? Or wants to drive you back into his arms?”
She laughed, her breath catching as pain shot through her ribs. “Please! Camden is way too busy to chase me down.”
“He’s a lawyer, right? A very successful one, according to Bea. He could have hired someone to do his dirty work.”
“No way. He’s not an idiot. He’d know that he’d get caught.”
“Smart criminals often make the biggest mistakes,” Bea said suddenly.
“You’re awake!” Emma turned to her aunt. Aside from the curlers, she looked the way she had when Emma was a kid. Pretty and plump and lively.
“How could a person sleep with all the noise the two of you were making?” she responded, brushing wrinkles from her skirt and using her walker to stand.
Two months after she’d fallen and broken her hip, Bea still didn’t have all of her mobility back. Emma wasn’t sure if she’d ever regain it, but she brought her aunt to physical therapy twice a week anyway. “I’d say that I’m sorry we woke you, but I’m glad you’re up. It’s three in the morning. You need to be home in bed.”
“I’ll sleep in my own bed when you’re able to sleep in yours.” She patted her hair, frowned. “What in the world?”
“You have your rollers in,” Emma explained.
“Why didn’t someone tell me?” She shot a hard look in Lucas’s direction.
“You just woke up. Besides,” he said, “I thought it might be the newest fashion trend.”
Bea responded with a quiet humph.
“I need to make myself presentable.” She shuffled across the room, her walker tapping on the tile floor. Her shoulders were more stooped than they’d been when she’d visited Emma in Boston the year before. Age had carved deep grooves in her face, but she was still the woman who’d walked Emma through the rough teenage years, who’d cheered her on when she’d gone to culinary school, who’d believed in her even when she hadn’t believed in herself.
She disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door.
Emma sat on the bed, refusing to give in to the urge to follow her aunt.
Bea might be slowly fading, but she’d told Emma that she didn’t plan to go down without a fight.
And, boy, had she been fighting lately.
“What’s wrong?” Lucas asked as he settled into a chair. He looked as if he planned to stay there awhile, his legs crossed at the ankles, his hands clasped behind his neck. He’d always been handsome, but time had refined him. He wasn’t a good-looking kid anymore. He was a very attractive man.
Too bad she was out of the dating market.
Not that she’d have looked in Lucas’s direction if she hadn’t been. He wasn’t her type. She preferred the more academic kind of guy. College professors. Lawyers.
Losers.
“Em?” He raised a dark brow, and she realized that he’d asked a question and that she hadn’t answered it. “You’re worried about Bea, aren’t you? Want me to get her a ride home?”
“I can call a cab for her.”
“Or you could let me call Slade McNeal. He’s on duty, and he’s your neighbor. I’m sure he’d be happy to give her a lift.” He pulled out his cell phone and made the call.
She let him because she didn’t have the energy to fight and because the only other way to get Bea home was to call her a taxi. She doubted a taxi driver would help her aunt up the porch steps or make sure she actually went inside the house.
She didn’t realize that she’d closed her eyes until someone touched her face.
“You in there, Em?” Lucas asked.
“Where else would I be?” She looked straight into Lucas’s eyes. Had they been such a dark green when they were kids?
“Someplace nicer than this hospital?” He leaned in, his hand sliding from her cheek to her nape, the warmth of his palm seeping into her cool flesh.
Her heart did a tiny little flip and her pulse jumped a notch. “Somewhere nicer than Sagebrush would be even better.”
“Speak for yourself. I’ve always loved this city.” He smiled.
“You moved away for a while, though, didn’t you?” Bea had once mentioned that he’d stayed in Houston after college. At the time, Emma hadn’t been all that interested in anything or anyone that had to do with Sagebrush. Since she’d been back in town, she hadn’t had time to think about old friends or to look up high school buddies. Between getting the diner ready and caring for Bea there hadn’t been room for anything else.
“I joined the police force in Houston after I graduated college. Came back to town a few months ago.” He patted the pillow. “Maybe you should lie down. You’re pale as paper, and I still have some questions to ask.”
“About my ex?”
“His name is Camden Maxwell, right?”
“Yes.”
Lucas jotted something in his notebook.
“What are you writing?” She leaned forward, then wished she hadn’t. Her head spun, stars dancing in front her eyes.
“Lie down, Em,” Lucas said, his voice sharp, his hands gentle as he urged her back.
She closed her eyes for a second, took a couple of deep breaths. “I’m fine.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he murmured, his gaze on the notebook and whatever he’d jotted there.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve always been tough.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I don’t think that I said there was,” he pointed out, looking up from the notebook. “So, let’s get back to the questions. Your boyfriend wanted you to stay in Boston. You wanted to come to Sagebrush. He wasn’t happy about your decision. Is all of that accurate?”
“You’re like a dog with a bone, Lucas,” she muttered. She didn’t want to discuss Camden’s ultimatum with anyone, and she especially didn’t want to discuss it when she was woozy from pain.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Lucas responded easily.
“He might not have been happy, but Camden wouldn’t hurt a fly.” She didn’t add that he’d have been too afraid of ruining his designer suits to get into a physical altercation.
“I’d like to speak with him anyway,” Lucas said. No doubt he expected Emma to offer Camden’s contact information. She didn’t want to. The last thing she needed was a visit from Camden, and he’d been looking for an excuse to fly down and see her. Which she didn’t understand, since he’d hooked up with Leticia Anderson about three seconds after Emma had left Boston.
“Can I have his contact information?” Lucas prodded.
Emma rattled off Camden’s address and cell phone number. There was no sense fighting the inevitable. Lucas was like a force of nature when he got a thought in his head—completely unstoppable.
He scribbled the information in his notebook, a lock of dark hair falling across his forehead. He’d let his hair grow longer than when they were kids, and she had the absurd urge to reach over and brush her fingers over it just to see if it was as soft as she remembered.
“Is there anyone else who might have a grudge against you?” he asked.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m—”
A loud crash interrupted her words, the sound reverberating from the bathroom.
Bea!
Emma jumped up, the IV line ripping from her arm as she ran to make sure her aunt was okay.
FIVE
The night had been a disaster and the day wasn’t shaping up to be any better.
Emma had spent most of the early-morning hours sitting silently beside her aunt’s hospital bed. She’d spent the rest of them answering Lucas’s questions. Now, with the sun just passing its zenith, she and Bea had finally been discharged and could return home.
Unfortunately, home wasn’t where Bea wanted to go.
“You have to be reasonable about this, Bea,” Emma said for what seemed like the hundredth time. “You took a bad fall a couple of hours ago. There’s no way you should be walking around the mall.”
“It’s nearly Christmas, Emma. Do you expect me to not shop?” her aunt replied.
“That’s exactly what I expect. We’re both exhausted. I’m injured. We need to rest.” She tugged on the ends of her T-shirt. Or what had been her T-shirt about fifteen years ago. Thankfully Bea had managed to find jeans that Emma had brought with her from Boston.
“You need to rest, dear.” Bea patted her hand. “I’ll take the bus to the mall.”
“You can’t—”
“Everything okay in here?” Lucas walked into the room, his jaw shadowed with the beginning of a beard. He still wore his police uniform, the legs of his pants just a little wrinkled. Had he gone home? Or had he stayed at the hospital all night?
“Lucas Harwood? Is that you?” Bea used her walker to cross the room. “It’s been forever.”
Emma’s heart sank at the words, but she didn’t correct her aunt. Pointing out her memory lapses only added to Bea’s frustration and fear.
“It seems that way,” Lucas said with a kind smile. “I heard you two had been discharged. I thought I could give you a ride.”
“You can bring Emma home. I’m taking the bus to the mall,” Bea replied. “I have Christmas shopping to do.”
“That sounds like fun.” Lucas held the door open as Bea shuffled through, and if Emma had been close enough, she would have been tempted to kick his shin. Just to let him know that Bea going to the mall on a bus was not a good idea.
“Doesn’t it? There are a few children at church whose families are going through tough times. I plan to buy them each a gift,” Bea continued.
“They’ll appreciate that. I’ll just call my grandmother and ask her to stay with Emma while you’re gone.”
“I don’t need—” Emma began, but Lucas shook his head.
“Why would you do something like that?” Bea huffed, her blue eyes flashing with indignation. “I can certainly take care of my own niece.”
“You said you wanted to go shopping,” Lucas reminded her.
Bea frowned, her gaze jumping to Emma. “Well, I certainly don’t want to go if you need me, Emma.”
“I do.” Emma followed Lucas’s lead. That was so much easier than arguing with Bea.
“In that case, we’ll go home. I’ll make some of my chicken noodle soup and get a package of frozen peas for that cheek.”
“Thanks, Bea.”
“You don’t have to thank me, dear. I love taking care of you.” Bea smiled beatifically as the elevator doors slid open.
Emma stepped in behind her, pressing close to the wall as Lucas followed. He smelled like soap and sunshine, and he looked exactly as she thought a hero should.
Which was a problem, because she didn’t need or want a hero in her life.
He leaned toward her.
“You can thank me later,” he whispered, his lips brushing her ear. Warmth shot through her, and her heart jumped. She wanted to lean her head against his shoulder the way she had when they were teenagers, but they weren’t teenagers anymore. They were nothing more than strangers who’d once been friends.
“I’d rather do it now and get it over with,” she responded, bracing herself as she looked into his eyes. “Thank you, Lucas.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re welcome. Although I have to admit I was hoping you’d thank me with a meal. I hear you’re quite a chef.”
“Who’d you hear that from?” she asked as he led them off the elevator and into the hospital lobby. Watery sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, the parking lot beyond packed with cars and people. Nothing to be afraid of, but she felt a sharp zing of anxiety.
“Your ex. Camden had a lot to say about the wonderful meals you made for his family every Sunday.” His hand settled on her lower back, his palm warm. Emma’s breath caught, her nerves suddenly alive with longing.
She met his eyes, saw her surprise reflected in his gaze.
He’d been married and widowed. She was pretty sure of that.
Was he dating now?
It was a question she wouldn’t ask, because the answer shouldn’t matter.
