Triple Dare (9 page)

9

“A
RE
YOU
SURE
you’re okay?” Noelle stared at her sister across the kitchen table.

“That’s like the tenth time you’ve asked me that.” Ivy stabbed an asparagus spear with her fork. “And for the tenth time, I’m fine. You didn’t have to drive all the way up here to check on me. Unannounced.”

Thank goodness Cade was on duty tonight, although she was pretty sure he planned on swinging by after his shift. She’d texted him to keep right on going if he saw Noelle’s MINI Cooper in the driveway.

“Yeah, I kind of did.” Noelle looked at her own, barely touched plate of food as if the grilled chicken, brown rice and mixed vegetables were her mortal enemies. “Mom made me promise.”

“Mom?” Ivy froze, her fork halfway to her mouth.

Noelle cut off the teeny tiniest bit of chicken and nibbled at it. “She said you’d been acting strange lately. Forgetting stuff at the nursery. Mixing up deliveries. Ordering the wrong seeds.”

It figured their mother was involved. Nothing got past her. Especially not the way Ivy had been walking around with her head in the clouds for the past week. Not that she was admitting that to Noelle.

“Honest mistakes. I haven’t worked the sales floor in years. A lot has changed. It takes a little getting used to.” Ivy bit off the top of the asparagus spear. “Anyway, I hired a part-timer to cover afternoons and weekends, so I can concentrate on opening in the mornings and doing the books. And keep up with Hank’s slack.”

She’d done her first gig, the mayor’s publicity shots, the day after Hank had handed over his contacts. It had gone great, as had the other jobs she’d covered that week: a family portrait, a sweet sixteen and a ribbon-cutting ceremony at the local hospital.

What she’d told Hank had proved right ten times over. It was a lot more fun—and rewarding—taking photos of normal, happy people doing normal, happy stuff. Sure, it was still hard work, running around, bending, crouching, contorting herself into all sorts of strange positions to get the right camera or lighting angle. And yeah, there was plenty of drama at the sweet sixteen with something like fifty girls fighting over the handful of boys in attendance. But it was nothing compared to the hissy fit one model threw when she was served the wrong brand of mineral water. Or the time a
Sports Illustrated
cover girl walked off set just because Ivy asked her to remove her belly-button ring.

“An extra pair of hands is nice, and it’s sweet that you’re helping Hank,” Noelle said, cutting into Ivy’s thoughts. “But that’s all beside the point.”

“And what is the point, exactly?”

“The point is you’re distracted.” Noelle paused for dramatic effect, using the time to eat a few grains of rice. “Mom thinks you’re seeing someone.”

Ivy almost choked on her chicken. “Aside from the people at the nursery and my photography clients, the insides of my eyelids when I fall into bed at the end of the day are about all I’m seeing.”

“You know what I mean.” Noelle put her fork down and tented her hands under her chin. “She thinks you’re hot and heavy with some guy.”

“Mom’s words?”

“Close enough.”

“Has she checked out the available dating pool in this town? There’s not exactly a bumper crop of eligible males.”

“That’s what I told her.” Noelle drummed her fingers together. “But she’s pretty insistent. Says she knows when one of her
bambini
is ready to take the plunge.”

“The plunge?”

“Fall in love.” Noelle let a wistful half smile creep onto her face, and Ivy wondered if she wasn’t the only one hiding something. “All Mom’s words this time.”

“Then why isn’t she having this conversation with me?”

“She figured you’d talk more freely to your baby sister.”

“She figured wrong.” Ivy stood and started to clear the table. “Want some coffee? I won’t bother to ask about dessert.”

“Nice change of subject, but you’re not getting out of this that easy.” Noelle fished something out of her Birkin bag and held it up between her fingertips. “And I brought my own herbal tea.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Ivy grabbed the kettle off the stove and filled it with water.

“My trainer says it cleanses my system and supports my body’s natural defenses.” Noelle sat back in her chair and crossed her long, dancer’s legs, clearly settling in for the long haul. “But back to you and your mystery man.”

“There is no mystery man.” Ivy clanged the kettle back down on the stove and turned on the burner.

“Mom says otherwise. And her romance radar is never wrong. She called it with Holly and Nick. She even pegged Gabe and Devin, and no one saw that coming.”

“Well, she’s wrong this time.” Ivy picked up the remote for the thirteen-inch, flat-screen TV mounted under the cabinet by the sink. “Mind if I turn on the news? They’re doing a piece on the mayor’s new community parks initiative, and they’re going to use the head shot I took for her.”

She hit the power button and flicked to the local news channel, but instead of the mayor the screen showed a group of rescue workers huddled around a hole in what looked like the parking lot of the Bag ’n’ Feed. Then the screen flashed and the picture changed to a shot of one of the workers being carried off on a stretcher.

It was a worker in turnout gear with a familiar head of dirty blond hair, now matted to his forehead, and blue eyes, usually dancing with mischief, hard and flat with pain.

“Hey.” Noelle stood and came up behind Ivy for a closer look at the TV. “Isn’t that Cade? Turn up the volume.”

Ivy didn’t—couldn’t—move.

Noelle snatched the remote from her and pumped up the volume several levels.

“A seemingly innocuous rescue turned dangerous today at the Bag ’n’ Feed on East Main Street. Crews were working to free a kitten from a drainage pipe outside the store when a firefighter was struck by a drunk driver. Onlookers say the firefighter was injured when he pushed several bystanders out of the car’s path. No names have been released, but sources say both the driver and the firefighter were taken to St. Raphael’s Hospital for treatment. The cat was eventually freed and is recuperating at the Stockton Animal Clinic, which has already received a number of adoption requests.”

“Who cares about the cat?” Ivy screamed at the television. “What about Cade?”

“So that
was
him.” Noelle grabbed the cordless phone off the counter.

“What are you doing?” Ivy asked, her voice rising several notches to a pitch she was pretty sure only dogs could hear. How could her sister stay so calm with Cade hurt, maybe seriously?

“Calling the hospital. Hopefully they can tell us something about Cade’s condition.”

“Screw that. I’m going over there.” Ivy pushed past her sister, turned off the stove and hunted for her purse. Where had she left the damned thing? She could have sworn she’d seen it somewhere.

“Oh. My. God. Mom was right.” Noelle followed Ivy into the living room. “There is a guy. Cade.”

“We’re friends. That’s all.” Ivy found her bag behind the couch and fished out her keys.

“Give me a little credit, Ivy.” Noelle tossed the cordless phone onto the sofa. “You’ve had a thing for him since you were in diapers. Who could blame you for finally making your move?”

“Look, I don’t have time to argue with you about this now. Are you coming with me or not?”

“Oh, I’m coming with you, all right.” Noelle plucked Ivy’s keys out of her hand. “In fact, I’m driving.”

“Then we’re taking your car.” Ivy snatched the keys back and dropped them into her purse. “It’s faster.”

* * *

C
ADE
TURNED
HIS
head at the
whoosh
of his hospital room door. A nurse in pink scrubs strode through, followed by Cappy, Sykes and Hansen, still in their turnouts, their faces streaked with dirt and worry.

“Two minutes,” the nurse admonished them, hands on her hips for emphasis. “That’s it. He’s heavily medicated and he needs rest.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Cappy answered for the rest of the crew.

The nurse gave him a curt nod and left.

“How’s the cat?” Cade tried to smile, but his face felt numb.

“A damn sight better than you,” Sykes joked, moving into the room to Cade’s bedside.

“And before you ask, the two bystanders you saved are fine, too,” Hansen added, joining his partner.

“Thank God,” Cade croaked, his throat dry.

“They want to thank you.” Cappy stopped at the foot of the bed. “The department’s already talking about an awards ceremony.”

“I was just doing my job.” A job he wouldn’t be doing for the next six weeks, minimum, Cade thought, grimacing at the cast on his left leg.

“You know how the brass is.” Cappy sighed. “Always willing to cash in on a chance for some publicity.”

“The press will eat you up with those movie-star good looks,” Sykes teased.

Hansen nodded. “They’re camped outside, waiting for you to be released.”

“Well, they’re going to be waiting a while. We’re keeping him overnight for observation.” The nurse was back with a cup of water and some pills. She handed both to Cade. “Take these. They’ll help you sleep.”

With a groan, he propped himself up, popped the pills into his mouth and washed them down. “Thanks.”

Then he collapsed against the pillow.

The nurse checked the chart hanging by the bed and turned to Cade’s guests. “Time for you boys to leave. I broke protocol to get you in here after visiting hours, but that’s only because I’ve got a soft spot for first responders.”

“No problem, ma’am,” Cappy said.

“Call me
ma’am
again and there’ll be a problem.” The nurse’s smile softened her snappy rejoinder.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Cade.” Hansen gave the blanket an awkward pat.

“Let us know if you need anything.” Sykes clapped Cade on the shoulder. “Like booze. Or broads. Or dirty magazines.”

“Very funny. Now get out of here and let me sleep.”

Cade closed his eyes and listened until the only sounds were the beeps and whirs of the monitors.

His head ached. His leg throbbed. Broken in two places, the doctors said. They also said he was lucky it wasn’t worse. Both clean breaks, no need for surgery. No internal bleeding, all his vital organs intact.

But he didn’t feel lucky. He felt like shit.

Six weeks in a cast meant six weeks out of work. Maybe longer until he got cleared for more than light duty.

What the hell was he supposed to do until then? He lived the job. He was the job. His days and nights, work and free time, all revolved around the station.

Fucking pathetic.

It was no surprise that the guys from B Company had been his only visitors. His own parents hadn’t even called. The hospital had left a message for them as his next of kin, but as far as he knew they hadn’t bothered to respond. And Ivy...

Ivy.

Did she even know he was hurt? It wasn’t like he could ask the nurses to call her, with their relationship a better-kept secret than the formula for Coca-Cola. And he didn’t have a clue what had happened to his cell phone.

He reached for the nightstand and fumbled around. No phone, but he did manage to knock over a plastic pitcher of water and the TV remote.

Cade sank back onto the pillow. His eyes drifted shut again and his breathing slowed. Whatever the doctor had given him was working, that was for sure. And that meant whatever he wanted to say to Ivy would have to wait for morning.

Until then, he’d have to be satisfied with dreaming about her.

It could have been ten minutes or ten hours later when soft voices pierced his semicomatose state.

“Are you sure this is okay?”

Ivy?

“Sure, I’m sure.”

The pink-scrubbed nurse.

“I don’t want to get you in any trouble.”

Yep. Definitely Ivy.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. If anyone asks, just tell them you’re his fiancée.”

His what?

“His...what?” Ivy said, echoing his thoughts.

“Fiancée. They won’t bother you then.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“My pleasure. The pictures you took at the ribbon cutting for the new pediatric ER were great. My supervisor loved them.”

Rubber soles squeaked, the door
whooshed
and the scrape of wood on the linoleum floor told Cade the nurse had left and Ivy had pulled up a chair next to his bed. Her hand rested lightly on his arm just above his IV, and the sunny, springy scent he’d come to associate with her mixed with the pungent, antiseptic smells of the hospital.

He cracked open one eye slowly, hesitantly, afraid to find out he might still be dreaming.

“Hey.”
Nope. Not a dream.
The hand on his arm trembled along with her voice. “You’re awake.”

He opened both eyes, blinking against the glare of the hospital’s harsh fluorescent lights. “You’re here.”

“Is that...okay?”

“Of course it’s okay.” He gave her a weak smile that he hoped she read as reassuring and not
scary clown
. “It’s better than okay.”

“I heard some of the guys from the station came by.”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat and struggled to sit up. “My parents...”

“I spoke to them.” She cut him off. “They’re in Edmonton. You dad’s giving the keynote at a botany conference and your mom’s working on a paper she’s coauthoring with a professor at King’s University College. They wanted to know if they should cut their trip short and fly down.”

“God, no.” His stomach rolled at the thought. He’d never hear the end of it if his little accident interrupted their precious careers.

“That’s what I told them, after I reassured them your condition wasn’t life threatening.”

“Thanks.”

“They’re idiots.” She squeezed his hand.

“I know.” He squeezed back. She got him. She really got him. Anyone else would spout some crap about how his parents loved him in their own way. Not Ivy. She knew better. And so did he. He was barely a blip on their radar, an afterthought in their busy lives. On the rare occasions when they did remember his existence, it was to rehash what an embarrassment he was to them. His lack of ambition. His blue-collar job. His parade of women.