The Medic's Homecoming. Lynne Marshall
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in the driveway and the long row of box bushes bordering the Howards’ yard. As he bent to reach for it, he heard footfalls running down the sidewalk. He popped his head over the car bumper in time to see Jocelyn jog by. He hadn’t seen her in almost ten years, yet he instantly recognized her.
She wore black thigh-length form-fitting running shorts and a sports bra. More athletic than voluptuous, she could get away with it. And did she ever. Her long torso, thin legs and arms looked fit, covered in a light bronze California tan. Her fawn-colored hair, held high in a ponytail over the back of her visor, shone in the sun.
Flooded with good memories and hit by an impulse, he shot out from behind the car after her. Her long ponytail wagged back and forth with each stride, begging to be yanked. Nearly catching up with her, he reached out for her hair and tugged.
“Hey there,” he said.
She gasped and spun around, recoiled with muscles tensed, eyes large and dark with surprise—or possibly fear. Idiot, you scared her! Maybe he should have thought through his bright idea a bit more.
Just as suddenly, she beamed with recognition.
With the yank on her hair, Jocelyn almost leaped out of her skin. Every muscle in her body went on alert as memories of another time she hadn’t been paying close enough attention to coursed through her. She spun around … and couldn’t believe her eyes. Trying to catch her breath and reel in her wildly beating heart, she broke into a smile.
It was Lucas, all six feet and change of him. He stood before her wearing a T-shirt and shorts that seemed to have been left in the dryer too long. He looked like a never-forgotten, though rumpled, dream. A dream from ten years ago that hadn’t ever faded.
She grinned wider, her lower lip trembling. His shoulders seemed broader, and his flat stomach, muscled arms and legs advertised one super-fit male. His dark brown hair stuck out in several different directions, and by the goofy, upside-down attempt at a smile he was glad to see her.
After ten years, Lucas had finally come home, and the sight of him practically made her knees buckle.
“Lucas!”
Chapter Two
Jocelyn kicked out at Lucas. “I could crown you!” she said, taking a swing at him. “You could have given me a heart attack.”
He dodged her swing. “I’m sorry.” He held up his hands, fighting back his grin and enjoying every second of her protest. “I saw you run by, and, well, I never could resist pulling your ponytail.” The warm feeling in his chest caught him off guard, plus the fact he was genuinely glad to see her.
“Were you hiding in the bushes or something?”
He tapped the newspaper in the air. “I’m not that messed up. I was getting the paper.”
Color rose on her olive-toned cheeks.
“Who says you’re messed up? You’re just a freak who likes to sneak up on unsuspecting women and pull their hair.” She squared off, hands on her hips, and stared at him.
“Not true. Not women. Only one unsuspecting woman. You.” He folded his arms and watched.
Man, she’d changed, yet she hadn’t. Gotten a lot taller—almost as tall as him. Filled out a little. Grew some hips. Looked good in sports gear. Had the same pretty teeth and shiny brown eyes … and he hadn’t even washed his face yet. What the hell was he thinking?
“So, you’re home for good now?”
“Yup. Got back last night.”
“Fantastic. Welcome home.” There was that pretty and contagious grin again. He felt dumb smiling this much so early in the morning, but, there you go, he was. “Then I guess I’ll see you around,” she said.
He nodded, wondering why he’d bothered to bug her. What was the point?
“Great!” She turned, tossing her ponytail, and resumed running. His gaze followed her long, smooth strides for a few seconds.
Without looking back she lifted her arm and waved, as if she knew he was still there. Watching.
For a moment, he’d felt like that kid he used to be, the one full of bravado, pretending to take on the universe, not like the world-weary dude he’d turned into.
“I’m glad you’re home, Lucas,” she called out two house-lengths away.
He cupped his hands around his mouth. “You run like a girl.”
She gave a single-finger salute and picked up her stride. It made him laugh, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed.
You know what? Maybe he was glad to be home.
Monday afternoon, after performing all of the basic duties for his father and setting him free in the wheelchair, he’d caught his sister making plane reservations to return home on Saturday. It only made sense. She worked as an RN in Oregon and couldn’t stay forever. But was he ready to take on the whole show—to be nursemaid, chauffeur, cook and delivery boy?
Lucas wandered out to the garage with his new best friend, Bart, hot on his trail. Well, best friend since he’d shared some of his peanut butter sandwich with him at lunch. Lost in tinkering with his Mustang, he’d enjoy the solitude for what few days were left before Anne went home. Time flew by, and soon it was late afternoon and he heard Anne scraping the grill and firing up the barbecue.
“Annie-belle, could you throw another shrimp on the barbie?” Kieran, using his worst Australian accent, sounded really close. Lucas shook his head. He had to hand it to his father—he never gave up. And somehow he had gotten the wheelchair out to the garage all by himself. “I’ve invited Jocelyn for dinner.”
Jocelyn?
Lucas pretended he hadn’t heard. Fortunately, since being cooped up in the house the past month, Dad had the attention span of someone with ADD hopped up on caffeine. Kieran’s melancholy gaze had already drifted to the totaled Harley motorcycle parked in the corner of the garage.
“It’s a crying shame, isn’t it?” Kieran said.
“Most definitely.”
“Too bad your specialty isn’t motorcycles instead of Mustangs.”
“I used to know a guy named David in auto shop who loved bikes. Want me to look him up for you?”
“Your mother would divorce me if I ever got back on one of those babies.”
“You’ve got a point.”
“Hey, let me run something by you,” Kieran said, shifting to yet another topic as he rolled his motorized wheelchair into the garage.
“I want you to help out Jocelyn with our annual athletic department fund-raiser.”
“Dad, I’m really not interested in …”
“I need you to help me, Lucas. I can do all the phoning and can make contacts with vendors and solicit donations, but I need you to be my legs.” Dad looked earnest, the corners of his blue eyes crinkled and staring Lucas down. “Jocelyn’s great. But the thing is, she doesn’t think she can sub for me as coach because she lost her track scholarship when she was at the university and she’s insecure. She needs help with the fundraiser and track. And that’s where I need to throw her a crumb—you. Not that you’re a crumb.”
This was the first Lucas had heard about Jocelyn bombing out of her scholarship. Hmm. She bombed out. He slacked. Maybe he and Jocelyn had more in common than he ever thought.
“This is our big fund-raiser for the entire year. I need someone to watch over Jocelyn, help her out and report back to me. Someone to be my eyes and ears until I can be there myself.”
“Your snoop, you mean.”
“That’s just an added bonus.” Kieran looked serious. “I really need