New Year, New Love Page 9

  “I don’t think it’s anything major.” His comment sounded unfinished, as if there should have been a “but” after it.

  She supplied it. “But—”

  Mr. Taylor hesitated for an instant. “But I don’t think she’s telling me the truth.”

  “You think it’s worse than she says?”

  “No. I don’t think she sprained it at all.”

  Disbelief and anger succeeded in ruining Sharon’s mood completely. “If you think that, you don’t know Emilee very well. She would never do something like that.”

  Gabe flicked a curious glance at her, then went back to pretending not to listen.

  “Nevertheless,” Mr. Taylor said, “I’d bet my reputation she’s faking this injury. I wonder if she should talk to the school psychologist.”

  “Psychologist? That’s outrageous. Emilee’s never been in any sort of trouble before.”

  “Perhaps not, but trouble always starts somewhere, doesn’t it?”

  Sharon couldn’t believe her ears. She forced her voice lower. “I’ll tell you what, Mr. Taylor. I’ll come and get Emilee and I’ll take her to the doctor. If you’re wrong, I expect you to apologize to Emilee and to me.” Without giving him a chance to speak again, she broke their connection and stuffed the phone back into her purse.

  “Trouble?” Gabe’s voice reached her through the red haze of maternal anger.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, gathering her purse and coat and sliding to the edge of the booth. “I need to get to the high school. Emilee’s hurt.”

  “Badly?”

  “The school nurse says not. In fact, he accused her of faking the injury.”

  Gabe pulled his wallet from his back pocket and removed several bills, which reminded Sharon she needed to pay for her share. She started to dig for her wallet, but Gabe tossed enough onto the table to pay for both meals. “I’ll cover it for now,” he said, placing one hand on the small of her back and steering her toward the door. “We can work it out later. Right now, we need to take care of Emilee.”

  We. To her surprise, she liked the way that sounded. It had been forever since she’d had someone with her during a crisis, and she found Gabe’s presence comforting. Her common sense told her to rely on herself the way she always did. But every other part of her wanted to accept what he offered. A shoulder if she needed one to cry on. A listening ear. Friendship.

  For the first time in a long time, Sharon silenced the logic and listened to her heart.

  EMILEE LAY BACK on the narrow cot in the nurse’s station and smiled up at the ceiling. Her mom would be here soon, and so far everything had gone according to plan. Last night, she and Christa had agreed to find someone who could make their mom laugh. Emilee figured Mr. Taylor could do that. He was always joking around with the kids at school.

  She couldn’t believe her luck. Imagine, Mr. Taylor, of all people, single. Divorced. Thank goodness, Emilee had mentioned The Plan to her friend Brittany who knew all about Mr. Taylor because he was a friend of her dad’s. According to Brittany, Mr. Taylor had two kids in high school and one who’d graduated already, which meant he must be about the same age as Emilee’s mom. And that made him a perfect candidate. Not too old. Not too young. Just right.

  Okay, so his hair was thinning and he had a paunch. And his nose was kind of big. Maybe he wasn’t Brad Pitt, but he wasn’t bad looking. Not really. And Brittany said he was nice. Not too macho. Not shy and boring.

  As if her thoughts had conjured him, Mr. Taylor pushed open the door and peeked inside to check on her. “Any swelling yet?”

  Emilee glanced at her ankle and tried to look injured. “Maybe. Yes, I think a little. It feels puffy.”

  “Pain?”

  “Lots. It’s throbbing.” Throbbing sounded good. He couldn’t ignore throbbing. “Did you call my mom?”

  He nodded. “She’s on her way.”

  She tried not to grin. “I knew she’d come. And I’m sure she’ll want to talk to you about it. You know, in case it’s broken or something. She’s a really good mom. Very concerned about us.”

  He didn’t look impressed, but Emilee didn’t let that discourage her. Once he saw her mom, that would change.

  As if on cue, the familiar rhythm of her mother’s footsteps sounded in the corridor. Emilee worked up a groan just as her mother stepped into the doorway behind Mr. Taylor.

  Her mom hurried past him into the room. “Emilee? Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay. But my ankle hurts.” Emilee watched through narrowed eyes, waiting for the moment when they’d take their first good look at each other.

  To her dismay, her mother ignored Mr. Taylor completely and settled on the edge of the bed. She ran her hand across Emilee’s forehead. “What happened?”

  “I twisted it on my way down the stairs.” Emilee kept her story simple. No added frills. Those would only trip her up.

  “Did you fall? Are you hurt anywhere else?”

  Emilee should have thought of that. A bumped knee would have been a nice touch. But she couldn’t afford to change her story now. She shook her head sadly. “No, just my ankle.”

  Her mother tossed a look over her shoulder at Mr. Taylor. Emilee knew that look. It wasn’t her mom’s friendliest one. She held out a hand to help Emilee stand. “I’m taking you to the doctor.”

  “The doctor?” She wasn’t supposed to do that. “It’s just a sprain, Mom.”

  “Yes, I know.” Her mom wrapped an arm around her waist. “Do you think you can walk to the car?”

  “Probably.” Emilee tried to look uncertain. “But don’t you think you and Mr. Taylor should talk before we go? You know…in case there’s something special we should do?”

  “Mr. Taylor has already offered his suggestions.” Her mom’s voice sounded tight and angry. Not good.

  “But—” Emilee held back a sigh of exasperation and tried again. “I mean, am I supposed to keep my foot elevated? What should I take for the pain?” She glanced at Mr. Taylor helplessly. “Did you tell her that already?”

  Sharon kept moving toward the door. “It’s a sprain, Emilee. I know how to deal with it. Besides, Gabe Malone’s waiting in the office for us, and I don’t want to keep him too long.”

  Nothing her mother could have said would have surprised her more. Emilee stopped short, remembered she was supposed to need help and forced herself to keep limping. “What’s he doing here?”

  “He helped me take the snowblower to the shop. He was with me when Mr. Taylor called.” Her mom’s voice sounded different. And did Emilee only imagine it, or was she blushing?

  No. She hadn’t imagined it. Her mom’s face had turned red.

  Emilee didn’t like that. Gabe was a total hunk, but she and Christa already decided he was completely wrong for their mother. She limped a bit farther and saw him pacing the length of the office. To her surprise, he looked worried.

  He caught sight of them and started forward to help. Dumbfounded, Emilee stopped walking. He was worried about her. Totally cool.

  She smiled slowly and beefed up her limp a little. Maybe it hadn’t brought her mom and Mr. Taylor together, but who knew what might happen now?

  CHAPTER SIX

  GABE WISHED he’d taken the time to clear the walks before he and Sharon left the house. He trailed her, carrying Emilee’s backpack and books, and watched her help the teenager slowly along the narrow path leading toward the garage. Beneath the snow, ice made their progress treacherous.

  The wind had picked up again, and now it flung bits of snow, needle-sharp, into his face. He hunched farther into his coat and waited while Emilee, favoring first one foot, then the other, climbed the two short steps to the door. He didn’t want to upset Sharon, but he thought the school nurse just might be right.

  He didn’t have to be a brain surgeon to figure out why Emilee wanted her mom at school. Norman the nurse must be single. But why would Emilee try to line her mother up with that geek? He wasn’t Sharon’s type at all. He was t
oo short. Too dumpy. Too…nerdy.

  He forced the whole subject out of his head. He didn’t care who they found for her. The guy could be Attila the Hun, for all Gabe cared. Still, you’d think the girls would have better taste than that.

  Grim-faced, he watched Sharon climb the steps. She certainly was easy to talk to. He’d found himself telling her more about himself than he’d intended and he might have said even more if they hadn’t been interrupted. Sharon was different from any woman he’d ever known. Her reaction to his work clothes told him that. But neither of those things changed his mind about avoiding women. Besides, he had the bet with Jesse to consider.

  He forced himself to look away, but from the corner of his eye, he saw Emilee turn and notice the way he’d been watching her mother.

  She grinned at him.

  He scowled and followed them into the living room. He had to nip this in the bud—he didn’t want Emilee or her sister getting any big ideas about him.

  Sharon helped Emilee settle onto the couch, tossed her coat over the back of a chair and hurried away, muttering something about pillows. He didn’t watch her leave, but let his gaze travel around the room. Two wingback chairs, each covered in pale blue, flanked the living-room window. Throw pillows in a light plaid of blue, yellow and beige matched the almost-colorless carpeting and couch. Nice.

  He held out the backpack and books. “Where do you want me to put these?”

  Emilee shifted her weight on the couch to see him better. “Anywhere. So, you and Mom were together when I called?”

  He nodded warily. “We took the snowblower to the shop and then stopped for lunch.”

  Emilee’s eyes widened in surprise. “Lunch? Where?”

  “The Blue Iguana.”

  “Really?”

  “It was on the way.”

  Emilee nodded thoughtfully. Too thoughtfully, to Gabe’s way of thinking. Before the girl could say anything else, Sharon came into the room carrying two pillows covered in crisp white cases. She settled one behind Emilee’s back and the other beneath the foot Emilee favored most often, then stepped back and propped her hands on her hips.

  Gabe decided now might be as good a time as any to leave. “I think I’ll finish the walks—”

  Sharon whipped around to face him. “But you didn’t get to finish your lunch. I’ll fix you a sandwich before you start working again.”

  He decided not to turn down the offer. “All right, but let me give you a hand with it.”

  “Not on your life. I’ve already put you out enough. I’ll just get Emilee an ice pack and call Dr. Hartvigsen—”

  Panic darted across Emilee’s face. “I told you I don’t need to go to the doctor.”

  “I’m calling him, anyway,” Sharon insisted.

  “Mom—” Emilee’s voice changed to a whine Gabe recognized only too well. The same tone Tracy used when she wanted to wheedle something out of him. “I don’t want to go to the doctor. My ankle will be better in a couple of days.”

  Gabe would bet money on it.

  Sharon sighed and perched on the arm of the couch near her daughter’s feet. “I know it’s probably nothing serious,” she conceded, “but I want that nurse at your school to know you’re really hurt.”

  That obviously caught Emilee by surprise. “What do you mean?”

  “He doesn’t believe you’ve sprained your ankle,” Sharon told her. “And he had the nerve to suggest you might need to see the school psychologist.”

  “But I did sprain it,” Emilee insisted. She looked so frantic, Gabe had to turn away to hide his smile. He’d give almost anything to see the look on her face when the doctor examined her.

  “I know you did.” Sharon unfolded a thick afghan and settled it over Emilee’s lap. “You wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

  Sharon left the room again. Gabe felt Emilee watching him as he slipped out of his coat. Sensed her assessing him as he settled into the chair. Caught the slight smile on her lips as he met her gaze again. He could almost see her mind working.

  She leaned back on her pillow but she didn’t look away. “My mom’s nice, don’t you think?”

  How in the world was he supposed to answer that? Anything other than an absolute no would encourage the plan he saw taking shape right before his eyes. He nodded warily.

  “She’s divorced, you know.”

  “Yes,” he said carefully. “I know.” He nodded toward her feet. “How’s your ankle?”

  “Sore. You’ll like your lunch. She’s a great cook.”

  “I have no doubt.” He wondered if Sharon could hear them, but when he heard her voice coming softly from the other room and realized she was on the telephone, he relaxed slightly. “Which ankle did you hurt again? Left or right?”

  Emilee’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “Left. See that picture over there?” She nodded toward a framed photograph of a river running through a forest of autumn colors. “My mom took that.”

  “Very nice. How did you get hurt?”

  “Walking down the stairs.” Emilee glanced around for another of her mother’s selling points. “You ought to see our yard in the spring and summer. We have flowers everywhere. Mom loves to garden.”

  “I have hay fever,” Gabe lied. “Funny. Your ankle doesn’t look swollen from here.”

  “Well, it is.” Emilee scowled slightly, then brightened again when she caught sight of Raoul stretching his way into the room. “She’s really good with animals.”

  “I’m allergic.” Another lie, but a necessary one.

  He rubbed one hand across his chin. “I wonder why that nurse at your school thought you were faking the sprain.”

  Emilee shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you have a girlfriend?”

  He deepened his scowl. “No, and I don’t want one, either.” Poor Sharon. With this girl plotting against her, she didn’t stand a chance. Neither would he if he didn’t stop her right here and now. He propped his arms on his knees, held her gaze steadily and lowered his voice. “I’m not the guy you’re looking for.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know.”

  “Well, I know you think my mom’s pretty. I can tell.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Don’t you like her?”

  “Of course I like her,” Gabe said. “But we’re completely wrong for each other. Even if I was interested in finding another girlfriend—which I’m not—it would never work.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…” He quickly replayed the list of undesirable qualities he’d overheard on New Year’s Eve. “Because I’m stubborn. Very stubborn.”

  “So’s she.”

  “And I’m pushy.”

  “I think you’re nice.”

  Simple words, but they touched him deeply. He didn’t want Emilee to know that, though. He growled just to show her how wrong she was.

  She ignored him. “Mom must like you if she went to lunch with you.”

  “That was nothing,” he assured her, surprised by how untrue the words sounded. “For my mom?” Emilee shook her head. “You don’t know her. She’s never done anything like that before.”

  An unmistakable wave of pleasure washed over him. He pushed it away. “We’re friends,” he whispered. “Nothing more.” Then more firmly, “She’s a client of mine.”

  Emilee didn’t even look slightly discouraged. To make matters worse, Sharon’s footsteps started moving toward them. He narrowed his gaze and lowered his voice even further. “You’d better get rid of any ideas you might have about me and your mother if you want me to keep my mouth shut.”

  Emilee scowled at him.

  “She’s coming,” he warned. “Do we have a deal, or not?”

  Emilee leaned against her pillow and let out a long, pathetic sigh. “Oh, all right. It’s a deal.”

  Satisfied, Gabe sat back in the chair and once again reminded himself of his long-standing rule against mixing business and pleasure. But when Sharon rounded
the corner holding a plate of food and a glass of soda, when she drew nearer and the light scent of her perfume wrapped itself around him, he wondered, just for a second, if he’d made a mistake.

  SHARON FLIPPED through a magazine in the waiting room of Dr. Hartvigsen’s office and tried to ignore Emilee’s obvious agitation in the plush seat beside her. Sunlight streamed through a window on one side of the waiting room. Someone sneezed. Someone else sniffled. A little boy hacked a cough too close to Sharon’s chair.

  “Let’s just get out of here,” Emilee whispered. “I don’t need to see the doctor. I’m fine. My ankle’s fine.”

  Sharon shook her head firmly. Emilee had said the same thing at least two dozen times since breakfast. “It’s not fine. You limped around the house all night last night.”

  “But it feels better this morning.”

  Sharon closed the magazine, keeping her finger between the pages to mark her place. “Good. And I’ll feel better after the doctor looks at it.”

  Emilee rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Mom—”

  “Don’t argue with me, Emilee.” She wasn’t in any mood for an argument. Not with Emilee. Norman Taylor was another matter entirely. She couldn’t wait to wave the doctor’s diagnosis under his nose. “You know, I had to take the morning away from classes to bring you here.”

  “That’s the whole point, Mom. You didn’t need to take time off work. I mean, it’s not as if I’ve never had a sprained ankle before. Besides, it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as it did yesterday.”

  “This may not be your first sprain,” Sharon said, “but it is the first time you’ve ever been accused of lying about it.”

  “Is that what you’re upset about?”

  Sharon rested the magazine on her lap. “Yes, that’s what I’m upset about.”

  “And that’s why you made me come here?”

  “Yes,” Sharon admitted. “I’m not going to sit back and do nothing while that nurse at the school accuses you of lying.”

  Emilee shrugged casually. “If I don’t care what he said, why should you?”

  “Because I’m your mother, and because you don’t lie.”