The Least Likely Groom. Linda Goodnight
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Her heart squeezed painfully. What if she wasn’t cautious enough and the careless genes that were as much a part of her makeup as they were Chris’s resur-faced in him? What if something happened to him, too?
Jett’s lips moved. “You gonna get that shot or kiss me?” He opened lazy eyes and grinned. “Either one is okay with me.”
Disturbed at her troubled thoughts Becka yanked in a startled gasp and swept out of the room, cheeks hot.
Jett Garrett was the kind of man she avoided at all costs. He was dangerous. She knew his kind. Had suffered the consequences of being too enamored with the aura of excitement such men wore like others wore aftershave. Jett Garrett terrified her.
Then why had she experienced this funny little inner twinge when he’d mentioned kissing him? And why was her pulse suddenly racing along like freeway traffic?
Sliding moist palms down the sides of her scrubs, Becka pulled herself under tight control. Certainly, a man like Jett Garrett disturbed her; he was a reminder of things better left alone. But she was a professional. For Dylan’s sake she had learned to handle anything.
She would go right back down to that room and give him the pain injection. She would sit down and talk to him. And she would not notice his perfect body or his handsome face or be affected by his sexy little quips. She would ignore the zip of excitement that threatened to undermine her safety. And by the time she returned tomorrow, Jett would be off to Amarillo and she’d never have to deal with him again.
An hour later when Becka pulled into the sunlit parking lot outside the day care center, she’d managed to push Jett Garrett out of her mind. Or rather Sid, the mechanic, had done the deed for her.
Shutting off the car key, Becka listened with a worried frown to a series of mysterious chugs before the engine wheezed into silence. Sid’s words still rang in her ears.
“I’m not even sure I can get parts for this kind of car anymore. Give it up, Becka, before you get stranded again, or worse, have an accident.”
And on those words she’d driven away, the old Fairlane patched together once more by the expertise of a kind mechanic, knowing full well she had to find a way to buy another vehicle—soon.
Getting out of the car, she opened the gate to the fenced facility and started up the sidewalk toward Kati’s Angels Day Care. The name always made her smile because Kati Garrett, the owner and proprietress, did indeed treat each of her charges like gifts from Heaven. A very protective mother, Becka was thankful to have the serene and loving Kati caring for Dylan.
Inside the long open room, she spotted her son immediately. In the company of three other preschoolers, he ran in frenzied circles around a stack of wooden blocks and toy trucks, making car noises and issuing pretend honks.
Becka stared in disbelief. He shouldn’t be running. He could fall. Hit his head. Be killed.
“Dylan!” she called sharply and started toward him. Anxiety gripped her.
Kati Garrett, having a pretend tea party at a low table with four little girls, rose at the sound of Becka’s voice. Seven months’pregnant, she moved slowly, but her face was filled with concern.
Dylan, too, heard the fear in his mother’s voice. He stopped dead still only to be pummeled from behind by an overzealous playmate and knocked to the floor. The action sent Becka into a lope. Heart beating crazily, she rushed to her fallen child and yanked him into her arms.
“Are you all right?” She heard the panic in her voice and knew it was entirely out of proportion to the incident, but she couldn’t help herself. If anything happened to Dylan, she could not go on living. Not this time.
Dylan’s lips quivered. Tears rimmed his wide, hazel eyes. “I sorry, Mommy. I sorry.”
“Is he hurt?” Kati, now beside them, asked.
Becka did a quick once over, checking the child for injuries. “No. But he could have been. Why on earth was he allowed to run wild like that?”
“Becka, little boys are naturally rambunctious. It’s a part of their physical makeup. Running is healthy. I can’t make him sit in a chair all day.”
Becka inhaled deeply then blew out a calming breath. “I know.” She shook her head, embarrassed now that she knew her son was all right. “But it’s dangerous for him to be so unruly.”
Kati touched her arm and said quietly, “I was actually pleased to see him playing with such zest. Of all the little boys, Dylan is the most timid.”
Kati’s son, four-year-old Evan, dark eyes echoing his mother’s concern, hurried over to them. “Is Dylan hurt, Mommy? I bumped him down.”
Kati laid a hand on her son’s smooth, brown hair. “He’s fine, baby.”
“I not a baby.” He patted her bulging tummy with a chubby hand. “Baby is here.”
Both women smiled indulgently. Becka hoisted Dylan higher on her hip. “Do you allow Evan to run and roughhouse that way?”
“Oh my, yes. At home he and his daddy wrestle and romp like two puppies. Colt had him on a horse by himself on his second birthday.”
Becka shuddered at the thought. “How can you stand it? Aren’t you afraid something will happen to him?”
Kati laughed and swooped Evan into her arms. “His daddy loves him. Colt would never do anything to cause Evan harm.”
When Kati spoke her husband’s name, her eyes lit up. Becka envied the couple, though she was as amazed as everyone else in Rattlesnake when Colt, the confirmed bachelor with a reputation almost as bad as that of his brother, had married his quiet nanny and adopted the infant Evan. But anyone who’d seen the family together knew they had something special.
“How was Jett doing when you left the hospital?” Kati asked.
At Becka’s look of surprise, she went on. “Colt came by earlier and told me. Is the knee as bad as he says?”
“Probably worse,” Becka answered, remembering the way Jett had tried to downplay his injury.
“Probably. These cowboys, especially the Garrett men, think they are invincible.” Kati smiled softly and shook her head, a dark, waist-length braid swaying. “Sometimes I think Colt actually is.”
Becka wondered what it would be like to love a man the way Kati loved her husband. So confident. So secure. Yes, she’d loved Chris but not like this. Theirs had been a frenetic life, always on the edge, never safe and secure. She’d learned a valuable lesson from that short, manic episode of her life. Now, safety and security were the only things she wanted. That and a new car.
She sighed, weary with the constant worry over finances, and redirected her thoughts. “Your brother-inlaw will get great care in Amarillo. If anyone can repair the damage to his knee, the orthopedic team there can.”
“Colt said he had a concussion, too. Something about him singing his fool head off.”
Becka laughed. “I’ve never seen anyone react to a head injury in such an entertaining way.”
“That’s Jett for you. Always doing the unexpected.”
“Unexpected” Becka could do without. She didn’t like surprises. She liked safe, routine, predictable. Come to think of it she hadn’t seen Sherman Benchley, her occasional date, in a while. Maybe she’d give him a call and invite him over for a movie and popcorn tonight. With Sherman she always got exactly what she expected.
The unexpected occurred a week later. Called into the hospital’s administrative office, Becka sat across the desk from the director of nurses, Marsha Simek. The two had worked together since Becka’s graduate days shortly before Chris’s death and shared a friendly, comfortable relationship.
“I received an interesting call today,” Marsha said, fixing Becka with a curious blue gaze.
“Concerning