House Calls: Callaghan Brothers, Book 3 (7 page)

As much as he would have liked to continue expressing his ideas on the matter, he felt the little warning telling him not to overdo it.  He’d given her enough to reflect on.  He’d planted the seed of suggestion, now he just had to let it take root.

“So,” he said, firming his tone into what Maggie had dubbed his ‘doctor voice’.  He hadn’t realized he had one, but if it gave her another excuse to tease him, he would ensure he used it more often.

“I’ve left you something for the pain.  Two tablets every eight hours, with food if you can manage.  They’ll make you sleepy, so no operating heavy equipment or driving, right?”

Her lips twitched.  “Got it.  Keep the tractor in the barn.”

He grinned back.  “Exactly.  And for today at least, consider yourself on bed rest with bathroom privileges.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little much?”

“Not at all.  Concussions don’t always present themselves right away; you need to be very careful for the first twenty-four to forty-eight hours.  If you would let me take you down to the hospital we could do a quick, painless scan and know for sure –“

Maggie was already shaking her head (though slowly and with great care).  “Not happening.  I already told you.  I’m fine, just a little sore, that’s all.”

Damn, but the woman was stubborn.  His lips thinned a little.  She was lying through her teeth.  He could see the pain in her eyes, see the trouble she had focusing or following anything on her right side.  Not to mention the stillness with which she held herself, as if even the slightest movement was difficult.  Yet she resisted him thoroughly on any and all suggestions to get checked out.  He’d even assured her he would do the tests himself if that would make her more comfortable, but she refused to even consider it.

“Right.  Then you won’t mind if I stop back this evening to check in on you?”

Something sparked in her eyes, then disappeared as quickly as it had come.  She looked down at her hands.  “Michael... Just so you know, I don’t hold you or your brothers responsible for what happened last night.  It was my own fault.  It was stupid and careless and clumsy, but it was an accident.”

Michael bristled as her meaning sank in.  “Is that why you think I’m here, Maggie?  Out of fear of litigation?”

“No, probably not,” she admitted, her shoulders lifting in the slightest of shrugs.  “But perhaps you do have a little bit of chivalrous knight in you.”

Just that quickly, his irritation faded away.  When it came to Maggie, he wanted to be exactly that.  It defied a rational explanation, and he refused to analyze it too thoroughly just yet.  She needed someone, whether she admitted it or not, and for whatever reason, he wanted to be that person.  Even Maggie recognized that about him at some level.  The problem was that she probably thought he felt that way about
all
women, and that couldn’t be farther from the truth.  Would he provide care for another injured woman in the same situation?  Absolutely.  Would he stay the night, make her breakfast, and try to anticipate her every need?  Hell, no.

“Perhaps.  Does that bother you?”

She studied him carefully for a few minutes before answering.  “No.  I rather like it, actually.  It suits you.”

In the span of a heartbeat, the heaviness lifted and he felt light again.  “Then, my lady, I am satisfied.”  He bowed deeply, making her giggle.  “Now that we’ve got that out of the way - I’ve programmed my private number into your cell and house phones.  I want you to call me immediately if you feel any dizziness or nausea, or if you begin to experience blurred vision.”  He continued on, listing a myriad of other symptoms. 

When he reached the end of his lengthy instructions, Maggie lifted up a hand and saluted him, though the little smirk she wore as she did so let him know exactly how much she intended to follow them. 

Michael exhaled.  Maggie was going to be a handful and a half. 

He tingled with anticipation.

* * *

M
aggie managed to remain on the couch for a good several minutes after the sound of Michael’s car faded away.  Then she pulled back the comforter, tucking it around George with a kiss to the hound’s head. 

“He’s going to come back!” she told him.  “Of course, maybe he was just saying that.  Maybe something will conveniently come up and he won’t be able to make it.” 

George opened his big, sad eyes and gave her a look of reproach.

“No, you’re right.  If he said he’s going to come back, he probably will.  I just can’t read too much into it, that’s all.”

George nudged her hand.

“Still, if he’s going to make the effort, there should be a hot meal waiting for him.  And a fresh batch of cookies, I think.  Or even better, a pie.  Everyone likes pie, right?”

George wagged his tail.

“Exactly.  It’s the least I can do.”

Leaving George to nap in solitude, Maggie pulled herself up, now a woman on a mission.  Ignoring the ache in her head she made her way into the kitchen to assemble everything she would need.  If she moved slowly, and was very careful with her movements, it wasn’t too bad.  But if she wanted to have everything ready by dinner time, she was going to have to get started.

* * *

F
ive minutes into his drive back to the Pub, Michael was tempted to turn the car around.  Ten to one she was already off the sofa, doing something she shouldn’t.  He never should have told her he would be back.  If he was smart, he would have simply left and called later to say he was swinging by to check in on her.  Or better yet, called her once he was already on his way.  That way she could have spent the day resting, believing that there was no reason she should do anything but.

He forced himself to keep going.  Turning back now would only have negative consequences, and that was unacceptable.  No, he had to trust that she would take care of herself.  She was a grown woman, after all.  She had managed most of her life without him.  Surely she’d be fine for a few hours.

Michael jacked the heat up in the Jag, appreciating the heated leather seats.  The temperature was dropping quickly, no doubt a result of the front that was rolling in.  From the moment he had stepped outside of Maggie’s cozy farmhouse, the icy cold wind blasted into him, but he suspected the sudden chill had less to do with the weather than it did with the separation from the unusual woman who had captured his instant and complete attention. 

Maggie
.  Even her name strummed a chord inside of him.  It fit, just like everything else about her.  Her humility, her sense of humor, her willful stubbornness.  Michael reached out, allowing his fingers to skim over the plastic Rubbermaid container filled with the chocolate chip cookies she’d insisted he take with him.  Warmth radiated outward from the center of his chest, and it wasn’t because of the heater.

The slightest hint of Maggie’s scent remained in the car.  He took a deep breath, letting it fill his lungs as he tried to identify it.  It was unique; soft, yet potent, with undertones of warmth and freshness.  It conjured images of sunshine and heated embraces, homemade cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate with a touch of mint.  Scents that didn’t seem to belong together, yet formed a perfect harmony, as complex as the woman herself.

And she was complex, he was certain of that.  Last night she had been a sexy harem girl; this morning, a fresh-faced farm girl.  She’d played it cool and wary, but her racing pulse and dilating eyes belied her interest.  She was obviously intelligent, but incredibly obstinate whenever he suggested professional medical care.

Michael was more than interested.  He was intrigued.

When he pulled into the private lot behind the Pub nearly a half an hour later, he hadn’t managed to come up with any answers, but he would.  He glanced at his watch.  Ten a.m.  He had told her he’d stop by around six.  Only eight hours to go.

“Where have you been?” Shane asked suspiciously when Michael entered through the private back entrance into the large Pub kitchen.  Shane gripped a mug of coffee like a lifeline.  He was unshaven, and his eyes were a little bloodshot, but otherwise he didn’t look too bad.  The fact that he was alone in the kitchen at this hour spoke volumes.  If Callaghan tradition held, the rest of them probably wouldn’t make an appearance until noon at least.

Without going into too much detail, Michael explained about Maggie’s accident.

“Shit.  Is she okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.”  Michael pictured Maggie as he had left her – snuggled into the oversized couch with her cheeks pink and her green eyes sparkling.  He rubbed the center of his chest absently when that same warming sensation he felt in the car earlier started up again.

“
Jesus
.” 

“What?”

Shane looked horrified, backing toward the stairs that led up to their private living quarters.  “You’re
smiling
.  Fuck, Mick.  Not you, too.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Shane groaned, mumbling something about ‘another one biting the dust’ as he made his way up the stairs, leaving Michael grinning as he started pulling ingredients from the fridge and cupboards.

“W
hat do you think you’re doing?”  Ian’s voice was hoarse, his eyes red as he emerged from the room he shared with his fiancé Lexi and saw Michael sitting in front of the large, digital screen.  Michael wasn’t surprised; Ian did not take kindly to anyone touching the bank of high-grade computer equipment that easily took up the length of the entire wall.  As the resident genius when it came to anything digital, Ian was very protective of his machines, and took it quite personally if anyone messed with them.  For that reason, Ian kept them all well-stocked with the latest and greatest laptops and notebooks.  Ian’s things were strictly off-limits.

“Drink that,” Michael said, indicating a thermos he’d placed beside the monitor.  Ian looked at it skeptically, then twisted off the lid and took a sniff.

“The Cure?”  Ian blinked in disbelief. 

“The Cure,” Michael confirmed.  No one knew exactly what was in Michael’s “Cure”, but it was known to end the effects of even the worst bender almost instantly.  He rarely mixed it up for anyone, a firm believer in making his brothers reap the fruits of their actions.  When he did, it wasn’t for free.

“What’s the price, bro?”

Michael scanned the room.  “Where’s Lex?”

“Sleeping,” Ian said smugly.  “I don’t think she’ll be getting up any time soon.”  Judging by the arrogant smile on his face, Michael had a pretty good idea how Ian had spent a good part of the night.  That was one of the benefits of having your wife-to-be nearby after spending the evening drinking and watching women dance seductively all around you. 

Michael nodded.  “I need you to run a profile.”

“That’s all?”  Ian asked suspiciously. 

“And we keep it between us, for now.”    He would have preferred to keep Maggie to himself for a little while longer, but Michael believed in being prepared.  Ian could definitely give him some valuable background and save him a lot of time.  Besides, they all had their little secrets, didn’t they?

Ian narrowed his eyes, no doubt suspecting a catch.  Michael simply smiled in return.  Apparently, Ian must have felt bad enough to chance it.  “Done.”  He snatched up the thermos and downed the brew before Michael had a chance to change his mind.

Michael waited patiently as Ian stumbled toward the bathroom.  He made a fresh pot of coffee in the little kitchenette, then contented himself by munching on some of the cookies Maggie sent along with him and doing a few basic searches.  Damn, but the cookies were good.  Half the tub was gone by the time Ian emerged fifteen minutes later, showered, shaved, and looking like a new man.

“I’m telling you, Mick, you could make a fortune on that.  You’re a chemical genius, you know that?”

“Yeah, so you say.”  But Michael was pleased with his brother’s praise.

“You give this to anyone else?”

“No.  Only you.”

“Awesome.”  Ian grinned.  He grabbed some coffee and sat down, flexing his fingers.  “So, who are we stalking today?”

“I want anything and everything you can tell me about Maggie Flynn.”

Ian narrowed his eyes.  “Personal or business?”

Michael didn’t answer.  He didn’t have to; the look on his face said it all.  Ian smiled knowingly.  “Right.  Personal, then.”

With skill, speed, and the knowledge of how to bypass the security on just about any system, Ian quickly assembled a baseline bio.  “Magdalena Aislinn Flynn.  Age thirty.  Only daughter of Seamus and Erin Flynn, who emigrated back to Ireland when their daughter was just five, leaving her to be raised by her grandparents, both now deceased.”

Michael’s brows drew together.  Why would a mother and father leave their only child?  “Any idea why?”

Ian shook his head.  “No, but I can probably find out with a little more time.”

Michael considered it.  He sensed a story there, but he was already pushing acceptable limits by using Ian’s skills to violate her privacy.  He wanted to keep the fact-finding to general, semi-publicly available knowledge as much as possible for now.  Anything that personal, he would prefer to hear it from Maggie herself. 

“No, that’s fine.  Go on.”

“She graduated near the top of her class at Pius Catholic High School.  Double-majored in Business Administration and Logistics at the state university where she got her Bachelor’s.  Worked in the city for a while in the IT department of Dumas Industries.  Resigned suddenly a little more than a year ago.  Never been in trouble with the law – not even so much as a parking ticket.  Hey, are those cookies?”

Michael smoothly moved the box out of Ian’s reach without looking up.  “What about medical records?  Travel info?  Phone records?”

Ian’s fingers flew across the keyboard.  “Last recorded exam was about thirteen years ago.  Looks like the mandatory one they make you do for college admission.  Nothing remarkable.  Guess she has something against doctors.”  Ian laughed.  “Sucks for you, man, huh?”

Michael shot him a withering glance.  Ian cleared his throat and continued.  “No passport – looks like she was born here.  No online reservations in the last five years, unless she used an alias, of course.  Has a mobile...”  Ian whistled softly “... that she’s amassed a total of twenty-seven minutes on. 
In the last two years
.”