Second Chances (Nugget Romance 3) Read online

  “Is everything all right?”

  “I think so. Sophie was just here and didn’t say anything.”

  Griffin straddled one of the chairs in the waiting room. “Let’s do another bowling night. That last one was fun. This time we should invite Wyatt. What’s the deal with you guys, anyway?”

  Darla had decided she wasn’t going to talk about him anymore. After unloading on Colin the other day, she’d felt pretty bad. Her and Wyatt’s business should stay private. “We had a thing once. It’s ancient history now.”

  “So you don’t mind if I invite him?”

  She did, but what could she say? “No.”

  “I was thinking that we should include Colin too, since he’s been hanging out with Harlee a lot. But then we’ll need more women to even up our numbers.”

  Darla didn’t know that many women their age. When she used to come to stay with her dad it had always just been Wyatt. “I’ll see what I can do. What about Lina?”

  “She’s not coming back until Christmas,” he said. “Hey, I sold another Sierra Heights house. Nate Breyer bought one of the midsize ones. Right on the golf course. I guess with Sophie due, he wants to have a place here.” Everyone knew that Nate was the biological father of Sophie and Mariah’s baby.

  “That’s great.” And here she was throwing a ticker-tape parade for a bottle of shampoo and conditioner.

  Griffin checked his watch. “I’ve gotta bounce. A guy’s delivering my car-wash equipment. Talk to Harlee about our bowling night. Pick a good date.”

  “I will,” she said, and walked out with him for a breath of fresh air. It had stopped snowing and the sun had peeked out from behind the clouds.

  Across the square, someone was blowing leaves off the Lumber Baron’s expansive porch. A group of teenagers lined up in front of the takeout window at the Bun Boy. And Darla almost threw up in her mouth when she saw Wyatt Lambert come walking out of the Ponderosa with his arms draped around a woman’s shoulders.

  Colin drove back to Nugget from his second acupuncture appointment not feeling any less phobic than he had the day before. Of course he wasn’t in a large crowd or even in a tight spot. So to be fair, who really knew? But wouldn’t he at least notice the cells in his body coming alive with Qi, or whatever crap was supposed to happen to him after being stuck with needles?

  Nope. All he had was a scratchy throat and throbbing headache. Colin hoped like hell he wasn’t getting a cold. He’d been coughing and achy the last couple of days. But he didn’t have time to get sick. Not with furniture to make for the Christmas rush and construction projects to finish.

  At the last minute, Harlee hadn’t been able to come with him to the appointment. One of her clients needed soothing after finding out that the “divorce lawyer” she’d been dating for the last six months had actually been disbarred two years earlier for having sex with his clients—men and women.

  It was probably for the best that she hadn’t been able to accompany Colin. Ever since the kiss, he’d been on shaky ground where she was concerned. Too much temptation. But he couldn’t seem to give her up either. He was a masochistic bastard.

  Before reaching Nugget, he pulled off on McCreedy Road. Emily Mathews had called earlier and wanted him to give her a bid on a kitchen. As far as work, this town had been good to him. He never went long without a job and his furniture had begun to take off. He wasn’t what you would call wealthy, but he had enough to live comfortably. At least by his standards.

  One of the reasons he liked Nugget so much was the people here were self-sufficient and humble. Lots of mom-and-pop businesses, artisans, farmers, and ranchers. Take Clay McCreedy. The man owned a fortune in land and cattle, yet he wore faded old Levi’s, dusty boots, and the same brand work shirts as Colin.

  As he pulled into the driveway, the two McCreedy boys waved to him. Colin didn’t know them well. He’d heard through the Nugget grapevine that the older one had had some behavior issues, but was currently riding the straight and narrow. Colin sincerely hoped the kid’s problems were behind him. Bad things happened when they got out of hand. He knew that from experience.

  Clay greeted him at the door. “Thanks for coming over, Colin. I know you’re busy with Sophie and Mariah’s place, especially while the weather holds.” He popped his head outside and gazed up at the clear sky. “Lord knows how long it’ll last.”

  “You looking at a new kitchen, huh?”

  “Emily is looking at a new kitchen. I just write the checks.”

  “Oh, be quiet, you.” Emily came up alongside them and blinked up at Colin. “You look fantastic. Maddy told me Darla cut your hair.”

  “Yeah. It was getting out of control.”

  Clay grabbed his Stetson off a hook. “You two get started without me. I’ve got a few things to do in the barn.”

  When he left, Emily said, “He grew up in this house and is a little nostalgic about the kitchen. So I want to keep the general feel of it. But for my work it’s a bit antiquated. You have a good eye, Colin. Hopefully, you’ll know how to make it modern and old at the same time.”

  “What about the barn? Why don’t you use that for working on your cookbooks?” Emily had moved here last summer and had rented a barn that Clay’s late wife had converted into a beautiful apartment.

  “For the most part it’ll be my office, but I’m constantly testing recipes and I want to be here for the boys when they get home from school. I love what you did with the Lumber Baron kitchen and have actually used it a few times for photo shoots. Speaking of”—she broke off, disappeared for a few seconds, and returned with a book under her arm—“it’s out.”

  She showed him the cover of Della James’s new cookbook, quickly flipping to two facing pages showcasing pies and featuring his farm table and rocking chair. The photographs credited Colin as the craftsman. Emily turned to the back of the book to a resources page and showed him where Colin Burke Furniture and his website were listed. Pretty cool, he thought as he leafed through the book.

  “That’s yours to keep,” Emily said. “Della signed it for you.”

  “No kidding.” He was quite taken aback, knowing full well that Emily was behind the kind gesture. “Thank you.”

  “I hope it brings you business. You do such phenomenal work.”

  He brushed off the praise with a sheepish smile. “Thanks. Let’s take a look at your kitchen.”

  Two hours later, Colin headed for home, his head throbbing worse than ever and his chest burning like a chemical fire. He still had to pick out a few pieces of furniture for Harlee’s mother and hadn’t decided whether to ship them or drive them himself. The trip was four hours each way, which would burn a day. And it sounded like Emily wanted the kitchen work done as quickly as possible, which meant Colin would have to fit it in between Sophie and Mariah’s job. He needed to be flexible if he wanted to continue getting work.

  When he pulled into his driveway, Harlee’s Pathfinder was there. She stood off to the side, playing fetch with Max. Colin sat in his truck, watching her for a while. She didn’t seem to mind that the ball Max returned was covered in slobber. Harlee just scooped it up while the dog stared up at her in expectation with those multicolored eyes, and pitched as far as she could. Colin thought she threw like a girl.

  Eventually, she came up to his driver’s door. “How was acupuncture?”

  He tried to appear enthusiastic because she wanted it to work so badly. “Good, I think.”

  “Is it too soon to go somewhere? Maybe try a restaurant to see if it’s working?”

  “Yeah, too soon,” he said, unable to keep his eyes from moving over her. Today she wore painted-on jeans and a short, fitted jacket that hugged her curves. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail with little wisps falling around her face. A face that could launch a thousand ships, he thought, because she was that beautiful.

  He wanted to kiss her again, but instead shoved Della James’s cookbook into her hands. “Check it out.”

  She let out a little
squeal of delight. “This is the one you’re in, right?”

  “Not me,” he corrected. “My furniture.”

  Flipping through the pages, she found the spread with Colin’s table and chair. “Wow! This is huge. I’m calling my mom.”

  She followed him into the house with her phone pressed to her ear. Colin went into the kitchen and rummaged through a lower cabinet, looking for a bag of dog food, while Harlee talked to her mother. She spoke in a stream of exuberant non sequiturs and Colin found it difficult to track the conversation. Something about how Harlee’s mother should buy Della’s book and display the furniture pages in her shop.

  “My mom wants to know when we’re coming down.”

  He stopped what he was doing and stood up, the motion making him dizzy. God, he felt like hell. “I got another job today, remodeling a kitchen,” he said. “It looks like I’ll have to ship the furniture.”

  “That’s great, Colin.” She got back on the phone. “Mom, did you hear that? Okay, I’ll call you later.”

  She reached down, grabbed the dog food, and put it up on the counter. “Whose kitchen?”

  “Emily and Clay’s,” he said, and crossed to the other side of the room, needing air. “I’ve got to check my email.”

  “Okay.” She got Max’s bowl and replenished his food. “You want me to heat up leftovers?”

  He should’ve told her to go home, that he needed to go to bed, but he liked having her around so much that he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “Sure.”

  “Are you all right? You seem a little weird,” she called to him in the office.

  He rested his forehead against the window, letting the coolness from the glass revive his damp skin. “I’m good,” he called back, but he wasn’t. He felt weak, clammy, and like an eighteen-wheeler was speeding through his head. “Probably just a little tired.”

  She came into the office holding a dishtowel. “Any new orders?”

  “Let’s see,” he said, and started to walk to his desk so he could turn on the computer. But he felt like his feet were nailed to the floor. And where had the strobe lights come from? All he knew is that they were flashing and whirling, making his eyes feel like they were going to burst.

  “Colin?”

  He could hear Harlee’s voice, but it sounded so small and muffled, like she was far, far away.

  “Colin?” She reached for him, but her hand singed him. He was so hot. “Colin, what’s happening to you?”

  He held on to the windowsill for stability, trying to keep upright. “Acupuncturist,” he said, but wasn’t sure the words had made it past his lips. “Trying to kill me.”

  Then everything went black.

  Harlee grabbed the phone and dialed 9-1-1. About twenty minutes later, Chief Shepard and an ambulance rolled down Colin’s driveway.

  “He’s conscious,” she told the chief as he came through the door, amazed at how calm she sounded, when she’d never been more worried in her life. “I’ve been applying cold compresses, but he’s burning with fever.”

  Two paramedics pushed by her and the chief followed them to the office, where Colin lay prone on the hardwood floor.

  “Hey, Colin,” one of the medics called, while the other checked his vital signs and inserted an IV into his arm. “Heck, man, the last time I saw you, someone had tried to knock your head off.”

  Colin didn’t reply, but Harlee flicked her head at the police chief. “What is he talking about?”

  “It’s a long story.” The chief turned to the paramedics. “You taking him to Plumas General Hospital?”

  “Yeah,” one of the medics responded. “His temperature is close to a hundred and four degrees.”

  “Could acupuncture do this?” Harlee asked, and all three men stopped what they were doing to look at her.

  “Come again?” one of them asked.

  She didn’t want to give away any of Colin’s confidences, but if it had something to do with his fever, they needed to know. “He just got back from an acupuncture appointment.”

  “If the needles weren’t sterilized, he could’ve gotten a bacterial or viral infection. But same day?” The guy looked dubious. “Seems unlikely.”

  “We’ve gotta go,” the other one said, and they lifted Colin onto a gurney, strapped him down, and started to carry him out of the house.

  Harlee jogged to keep up with them, and when they reached the back of the ambulance she said, “Wait a sec. He’s got claustrophobia. Did you transport him in an ambulance last time, when he got hit in the head?” She had every intention of getting to the bottom of that story, but it could wait.

  “He was unconscious,” the police chief said, walking to the side of the stretcher. “Hey, Colin, you okay to ride back there?”

  Colin groaned something unintelligible.

  “I’m going with him,” Harlee said, afraid that Colin was delirious from fever but would freak out as soon as he found himself in close quarters.

  “Are you related to him?” one of the medics asked.

  She knew the rules. “I’m his wife.”

  The chief rolled his eyes but didn’t rat her out.

  She waited for them to load the gurney into the ambulance, then got inside. “I’m here, Colin.” Considering how high his temperature was, his hands were so very cold. She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “You’re okay.”

  They made the forty-minute drive to Quincy without lights or sirens. And without incident. Colin was so out of it, he didn’t seem to realize he was in the small hull of an ambulance. The two paramedics wheeled Colin into the emergency room when they got to the hospital. Harlee tried to go with him, but a nurse told her that someone would come for her in a little while.

  She went to the waiting room and called her father. He was a doctor and would walk her through this, assure her that Colin would be okay and that she hadn’t nearly killed him by sending him to an acupuncturist. When she couldn’t reach him, she left a message on his voice mail.

  A short time later, a scowling Chief Shepard and his wife walked through the door. Harlee waved to them and they joined her.

  “How’s it going, Mrs. Burke?” the chief asked.

  “You can cut the sarcasm, Rhys,” Maddy admonished, and directed herself at Harlee, whispering, “I’m glad you lied. Poor Colin. Rhys thinks he has the flu. Apparently there’s a particularly virulent bug going around. Colin is the fourth person in the county who has had to be hospitalized.”

  “But everyone survived, right?” Harlee asked.

  “Oh yeah,” Maddy said. “Colin is a big, strong man. This is the kind of flu that’s mostly dangerous to old people and young children.”

  “And pregnant women,” Rhys piped in. Maddy stared daggers at him, and he stared right back.

  “Have they come out yet to let you know what’s going on?” she asked Harlee.

  “Not yet.”

  “It’s a good thing you were there with him. Otherwise no one might’ve realized that he was sick until he failed to show up for work.”

  Harlee nodded. She wondered if Rhys had told Maddy about the acupuncture and the claustrophobia. Colin would be upset if a lot of people knew. He guarded his privacy. And despite how unassuming he was, Colin was sort of a macho guy. That’s something she’d learned very quickly about him. He had a wariness and toughness that made her think of a street fighter.

  She wanted to tell Maddy that they didn’t have to wait. But it seemed presumptuous, given that Maddy had known Colin longer than Harlee. Still, she could tell that her husband was concerned about her catching something.

  “If you guys want to go, I could call you and give you updates. All three of us don’t need to be here,” she said.

  “How you planning to get home, Mrs. Burke?”

  She’d forgotten that she didn’t have a car. Before she could reply, a man in scrubs with a stethoscope around his neck came out and quickly perused the waiting room. Besides them, there was only an African-American family seated.

>   “Are you Mrs. Burke?” He addressed her, and she caught Rhys doing the eye-roll thing again.

  “Yes,” she said, sending the police chief a death glare, silently warning him: Sell me down the river and I will cut you. Screw HIPAA. “Are you the doctor?”

  He nodded and held out his hand. “Rick Morgan.” Dr. Morgan joined them on one of the faux-leather beam seats that killed Harlee’s back and made her butt sore. “Colin’s got a severe case of the flu and a lower-respiratory-tract infection. We’ve given him amoxicillin, made him as comfortable as possible, and want to keep him at least overnight.”

  “But he’ll recover, right?” Harlee knew that a lower-respiratory-tract infection was basically pneumonia. She wasn’t a doctor’s daughter for nothing.

  “He’s a healthy young man. As long as he responds to the antibiotics, he should be feeling much better in a few days.”

  “I’d like to see him,” she said.

  “Me too,” Maddy said, adding, “I’m a friend of the family.”

  Rhys mumbled something that sounded a lot like an expletive. And Maddy shot him a murderous glare.

  The doctor took one look at Maddy’s rounded belly and gave Rhys a commiserating smile. “I think it would be best for just Mrs. Burke to visit with him.” He turned to Harlee. “They’re admitting him right now, but as soon as he’s settled into a room, someone will come get you.”

  When the doctor left, Harlee told Rhys and Maddy, “You guys shouldn’t wait. I’ll stay the night here with Colin.”

  “That’s nuts,” Maddy said. “We’ll wait until you’ve checked on him and then we’ll take you home.”

  “I don’t want him to be alone,” she said, concerned that the hubbub of the busy hospital might trigger Colin’s demophobia.

  “That’s very nice of you, Harlee,” Rhys said. “But Colin will probably sleep through the night. He won’t even know you’re here. Go home, get a comfortable night’s sleep, and come back first thing in the morning.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she argued. “They might even have a cot they can put in the room.”