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“To call the pharmacy...” She stood but swayed and grabbed the back of the chair before reaching for the purse he had in his hand. “For a refill.”
“Meg, please. Sit down.” He stepped toward her, but she waved him off. “That could take too long.”
“I’ll be okay in a minute.” She pressed a hand to her chest.
“We shouldn’t take that chance.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket. “I’m taking you to the ER.”
“No, really... I...” Her voice trailed off as she began gasping for air, struggling to keep upright.
“I’m done asking. Now I’m ordering.” Riley put his hand under her elbow and gave her no choice. “My truck. Now.”
She pulled out of his grasp. “I can...walk.”
Whoa. Obviously while gaining those womanly curves, she’d lost that youthful attraction for him, but that was okay. For once something other than combat was getting his blood pumping.
* * *
Reality, meet Meg. Meg, meet reality.
This was not how her first meeting in over five years with Riley Cooper was supposed to happen. In her imagination, she was all sexy in a little black dress and killer heels after a relaxing spa day. Yeah, right; she’d spent the day cleaning and probably looked like Nick Nolte’s mug shot. So not fair! Riley was supposed to be breathless and falling at her feet, not vice versa. Stupid, stupid asthma. Another twenty minutes and she would’ve been home, not making embarrassing wheezing and whistling noises in front of him.
In the cellar, Meg had thought Riley was a hallucination brought on by her oxygen-starved brain, but it hadn’t taken long for her to see he was swoon-worthy flesh and blood. Riley had this whole bad-boy persona going on, with close-cropped military hair, Hollywood stubble and chiseled cheeks. What was he doing in Loon Lake? Last she knew, he was in Afghanistan. Her stomach clenched. Why had he returned?
Meg plodded toward the front door. Was it lack of oxygen or his presence making her dizzy? A million questions flitted around in her head like horseflies in spring. Forget curiosity. Giving him the third degree was out of the question until she could speak in full sentences. Another round of coughing left her light-headed. Damn, fresh air wasn’t helping. She rubbed her chest, hoping to ease the new tightness settling there and chase away the black spots dancing around the edges of her vision. Every time she tried to draw in a deeper breath, the cough started again and the cycle repeated. She’d wanted to argue some more, but she could expend effort on one thing and she chose breathing.
Riley brushed past her and opened the front door.
“Wait and I’ll help you into the truck.” He turned back to lock the door.
A shiny black Ford F-150 hulked in the driveway. Great, how am I supposed to climb into that beast? “I’ll manage.”
He grunted and swept past, getting to the truck ahead of her. He opened the passenger door, swearing under his breath as he lifted a brown paper grocery bag off the seat. Glass bottles clinked as he turned, and she glanced into the bag. Bottles of Jack Daniel’s stared back. She choked on the bitter bile rising in her throat. Oh, God, Riley, no. Please. I don’t want Fiona to come home to...this.
Meg met his gaze. Riley’s eyes resembled the lake during a summer storm. Those gray eyes—Fiona’s gray eyes—dared her to say something. “Are you okay to drive?”
He lifted the bag higher, the bottles clinking and the paper bag crackling. “I haven’t touched a drop. Check the bottles if you don’t believe me.”
“I believe you.” She stepped out of his way. “Expecting company?”
“Something like that.”
He set the bag on the porch steps and hustled back to the truck.
The dots dancing around the edges of her vision had increased in both size and speed, but she tried to pull herself into the pickup. Riley seized her around the waist and easily lifted her into the seat. “Thanks.”
After securing her seat belt, she sat hunched forward and closed her eyes.
When he climbed behind the wheel, she pried her eyes open and eased back against the seat. “You remember...hospital?”
“Of course.”
Meg tried to ignore his hand draped over the steering wheel. Not a good time for taking trips down memory lane...but those hands...
She made a strangled choking sound and turned away.
He slammed the brakes on. “Should I call an ambulance?”
“No.” She motioned with her hand. “Go.”
He peered at her for a moment longer before easing his foot off the brake. “Quit scaring me like that.”
“Sorry.” But it was his fault for looking so damn sexy. So not fair that his worn camo pants looked hot and her worn jeans looked...well, old and tattered. She wasn’t wearing any makeup and Liam’s old sweatshirt swallowed her whole. Yep, Meg McBride was a real sexpot. What was she doing? She needed to remember her first priority was Fiona. Riley’s parting words rang in her ears. I’m not coming back again, Meggie. The marines are my life now. But she’d been naive enough to think she could change his mind with sex. Yeah, that worked out well. But she was in a good place in her life now and wouldn’t confuse lust with love. Not that there was anything wrong with no-strings-attached sex. She might even try it...someday.
“...and I was surprised.”
Oh, God. He’d been talking and she hadn’t heard a word. “Sorry?”
He passed a slow-moving car. “I didn’t think your family used the cottage anymore.”
Was he here because he thought she wouldn’t be?
“I—”
“Sorry.” He glanced at her. “I didn’t mean to make you keep talking. Save your breath. We can catch up later.”
Fiona had two more weeks of vacation with Grampa Mac and Doris. Most lake rentals lasted a week. Riley would be gone before Fiona came home. Meg curled her fingers into her palms. She should be thinking of ways to tell Riley the truth, not celebrating the timing of his visit. If he’d come three weeks ago or two weeks from now, there would be no escaping the truth; it would be literally staring him in the face. But now? With a bag of whiskey bottles waiting on his porch? She could last a couple of weeks. Riley had shattered her heart... What would he do to Fiona’s tender one?
“Meg? You still with me?”
She opened her mouth but began coughing.
“I noticed the musty smell. Did mold bring on your attack?” He turned onto the road leading to the hospital.
She reached out to rest her hand on the dashboard. “Yeah...spring rain and snowmelt caused some spring flooding.”
“What about your place?” He gave her a quick glance. “Do you have mold, too?”
She nodded and he continued, “I’ll take a look later and see if I can’t get it cleaned up.”
“No!” He gave her a wounded look and she softened her tone. “Don’t waste...your week.”
He slowed the truck as they approached the hospital. “No problem. I’ll be here for the next thirty days.”
What? Thirty days? Meg shook her head. Riley might not know—yet—what she’d done, but karma had obviously memorized it line, verse and chapter and was gleefully punishing her. First, Riley showed up looking like sex on a stick while she looked like something he’d step in with his size thirteen boots. And he was staying an entire month. Last night, after she’d talked to Fiona on the phone, Meg had cried because another fourteen days without her baby seemed like an eternity. Now, a week wasn’t enough time to get ready for the impending storm.
* * *
Riley took the first empty parking spot. Her color had been pale before but it had suddenly gotten much worse. He threw the truck into Park while the wheels were still rolling and winced when the transmission groaned.
Leaping down, he sprinted to the passenger door and pulled Meg to his side. Keeping one hand under her elbow, he hustled her through a pair of glass doors that whooshed open to a small waiting area with a nurse seated at a desk.
She greeted them with a smile, but her sharp, assessing gaze stayed on Meg. “What brings you here today?”
“Asthma. I—” A fit of coughing cut Meg off.
Riley slipped an arm across Meg’s hunched shoulders, easing her closer. “She’s having an asthma attack and her inhaler was empty. Ma’am, she needs to see someone. Right away.”
After they’d taken seats in front of her desk, the woman tapped her finger on a small black pad that looked like a calculator. “Can you type your Social Security number into this for me?”
After Meg typed in her number, the nurse slipped a blood pulse oximeter on her finger.
“When did the wheezing start?” the nurse asked and verified Meg’s date of birth and social.
“About...thirty minutes ago.” Meg leaned forward in the seat.
“And what were you doing?”
“Laundry.”
Riley drew his chair closer and secured an arm around Meg as if she’d slip away from him if he let go. He listened impatiently to every inane question and Meg’s breathless replies, the incessant tapping on the keypad. Geez, couldn’t they just give her an inhaler or something? What was taking so long?
The nurse checked the oximeter and clucked her tongue. “Ninety-one. We’ll get you back there right away.”
While the nurse put a hospital bracelet around Meg’s wrist, Riley glanced over at the crowded waiting room. Texting and watching TV, none of them looked as though they wanted to shout and tear the place apart until their loved one was treated. Not that Meg was...
He closed his eyes and rubbed his forefinger across the bridge of his nose, searching for calm. He’d been fighting nausea since finding her at the bottom of those stairs. Sheer force of will had kept him moving up to this moment. Sweat trickled down his sides. Meg had asked him if he’d been expecting company when he’d picked up his bag of Jack Daniel’s bottles. What he hadn’t told her was that most nights the image of Private Trejo lying in a pool of blood and spilled guts at the bottom of those dusty steps in Kandahar kept him company.
A hand touched his arm, and his eyes flew open.
“She’s going to be fine.” The nurse flashed a reassuring smile. “Someone is coming right out to get her.”
The door to the ER buzzed open and another nurse in dark blue scrubs stepped through, pushing a wheelchair in front of her. She called for Meg. Riley swallowed and helped Meg stand.
“Meg, I figured that must be you when I saw the name on the face sheet from triage.” The trim, fortysomething nurse glanced at him, did a double take and smiled. “I would say it’s good to see you, but considering we’re in the ER, I won’t.”
“Hi, Jan. I’d...” Meg coughed and settled in the chair, and Riley started to follow them into a small treatment area. “I’d say the same, but yeah, ER and all.”
Jan stopped and gave him a sharp look. “Are you a relative?”
“No.” But if you think you’re keeping me out here and away from Meggie, think again, lady.
“He’s...” Meg’s gaze bounced between him and Jan. “I’d like him with me.”
The nurse nodded and started forward again. He sighed, glad he didn’t have to fight and claw his way back there to be sure they did their best for Meg.
“We’ll get you fixed up right quick,” Jan said cheerfully as she wheeled Meg down a short hall with curtained treatment areas. “I ran into Brody the other day at the Pic-N-Save. He said Fiona is enjoying her trip. Bet you miss her like crazy. It was the Grand Canyon, wasn’t it?”
Meg bit her lower lip. “Yes. Grand Canyon.”
“They went by motor home, didn’t they?”
“Yes.” Meg’s fingers gripped the sides of the chair, her knuckles white.
Riley looked to Meg, but she ignored him. Who was Fiona and why would Meg be missing her like crazy? And who was Brody?
She’s made a life for herself complete with new friends in the past five years, dumbass.
The nurse stopped in front of a curtained treatment area, engaged the brake on the wheelchair and helped Meg transfer to a narrow stretcher. She closed the curtain and pulled a hospital gown from an overhead cabinet. “Sir, if you’ll wait on the other side of the curtain for a moment.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He was loath to leave Meg, but took a step back. Getting escorted out by security wouldn’t be a good idea.
“Thanks.” The nurse smiled at him as she yanked the curtain closed in his face. “Now, Meg, take off your shirt and unhook your bra.”
The curtain hadn’t closed all the way and he could still see Meg. He should be a gentleman about this. But he needed to reassure himself they were taking proper care of Meg. Yeah, right.
Jan, the nurse, clucked her tongue, saying, “Oh, my.” Riley stiffened as she continued, “Looks like you’ve got some mold on the back of this sweatshirt.”
“I must’ve brushed up against it in the basement,” Meg responded.
“I’ll bag the shirt up just as a precaution and look for a scrub top for you to wear home,” Jan said and there was some rustling.
“There, all covered,” Jan said, as if signaling the all clear, and Riley stepped back around the curtain.
A tech came in right behind him and took Meg’s vital signs while the nurse did an evaluation. He clenched his jaw. How many questions did they have to ask before they treated her?
The curtain flew aside and the doctor stepped in, stethoscope looped around his neck and holding a clipboard. He introduced himself and pulled a small black stool up to the stretcher and sat down.
“So you’ve had an asthma attack. Was this one any worse than the others?”
“No, but I had used up my inhaler and someone got a little freaked out.”
Riley opened his mouth but thought better of arguing and shut it again.
“I see. Let’s have a listen.” The doctor stuck his stethoscope under the gown and listened to Meg’s chest, right upper, left upper, right lower, then left lower, then repeating the process on her back all the while explaining, “We’re going to get your asthma exacerbation under control by giving you several updrafts back to back and, if necessary, an IV steroid.”
When he finished, he went to the computer to document his findings and the nurse tied the gown. “It says you have inhalers. Did you say you used one today?”
Unable to keep silent any longer, Riley stepped away from the wall he’d been leaning against. “The one she had was empty. I found her at—”
“And you are?” The doctor turned and studied Riley over the top of his glasses.
Riley flexed his fingers. Good question. What was he to Meg? Blowing out the breath he’d been holding in, he said, “Riley Cooper, sir.”
The doctor glanced at the chart. “Are you a relative?”
Riley stepped closer to Meg. “I’m—”
“He’s just, uh...just a neighbor.”
