The Sweetheart Secret (25 page)

And made her want to stay. To try again. To be his wife again, in every sense of the word.

“Rain check?” she said, then laughed at the pun. “I, uh, have to be up early to meet with Mike's construction crew.”

“I'm glad the loan worked out,” he said. “I think you're going to do a fabulous job with the inn.”

A flicker of doubt filled Daisy. Such a huge responsibility, resurrecting a business. “I'm going to do my best. Either way, I'll make sure I repay the loan so you don't end up on the hook for it.”

He waved that off. “I trust you, Daisy.”

I trust you.
The words held such weight. She thought about how far they had come since that day at his office a few weeks ago.

Okay, maybe they'd come a long way in terms of financial agreements, but as for a relationship . . . No promises had been made, and there was no more of a tether binding them to this sham of a marriage than there had been before.

“I guess this means we don't need to stay married anymore.” She turned and grabbed the door handle before any of the emotions fluttering in her chest belied her light words. “You'll finally be free of me.”

His face clouded. “Then what was that back on the beach?”

“That was”—she pulled open the door and forced a smile to her face—“a storm that hit us before we could run.”

Grandpa Earl was his usual sunshine and rainbows self the next morning when Colt arrived at the hospital to take him home. “Where do they find the idiots who run this place?” Grandpa said, glaring at the orderly who helped him into a wheelchair and plopped the bag of Grandpa's belongings on his lap. “They're making me use this damned thing, like I'm some kind of an invalid. I can walk my own damned self out of here.”

“Think of it as red carpet service,” Colt said, waving off the orderly so he could slip in behind Grandpa's chair. Grandpa had good color, his blood pressure was down, and he should be fine as long as he did what Colt had been harping on for months—ate right, exercised regularly, and took his medications. They wheeled down the hall, and around the corner toward the patient pick-up area.

“Red carpet service, huh?” Grandpa said. “If that's the case, there should be dancing girls and champagne at the end.”

Colt chuckled. “I can wrangle some ginger ale, and maybe a cute candy striper.”

Grandpa considered that for a second, rubbing at the stubble on his chin. “I'll take it.”

The electric doors opened, letting in a nice warm burst of Florida air. Colt pushed the chair outside and over to his car, parked against the curb. He helped Grandpa into the passenger's seat, then backed away, rather than caving to his instinct of hovering to make sure Grandpa buckled his seat belt. Baby steps.

After Colt returned the chair to the lobby, he slid into the driver's seat. “Did they treat you okay in there?” he asked Grandpa.

“Treated me like the damned King of Sheba. Do you know every single person who works at that hospital?”

“Not everyone. But a lot of folks.”

Grandpa harrumphed. “Well, you must be doing a good job because all they did was talk about you.”

Colt chuckled. “If that's a compliment, I'll take it.”

They rode for a while, not saying anything. The air conditioner pumped cool air into the car. Palm trees slivered shade through the windows. “You know, I've been thinking,” Grandpa said. “I don't want you to get all worked up or anything, but maybe I can try one of those veggie meals you were talking about. Daisy says some of it's so good, you can't tell the difference. Like the yogurt she told me was ice cream, and that fake beer you gave me. Tasted the same, more or less.”

Colt kept his face calm, impassive, trying not to show his surprise. “Sure. We can do that. How about we compromise, and start with a veggie pizza?”

“They make those? Well, I'll be.” Grandpa took a moment to think about it, then nodded. “Veggie pizza sounds like a damned good idea. Especially after eating the crap the hospital serves. A man could die eating that stuff.”

Colt arched a brow and flicked a glance at Grandpa's belly. “Doesn't look like you suffered too much.”

“I did, too. I was forced to live on pudding and applesauce.”

“Oh, the inhumanity. Just pudding and applesauce?” Colt grinned. “I'll be sure to file a formal complaint for you with the board.”

Grandpa Earl chuckled and Colt joined in. It was the first real laugh the two of them had shared in months, maybe even years. And it was good. Really good.

A little while later, Grandpa Earl was settled in the battered La-Z-Boy with a thin crust veggie pizza—and not complaining about the taste of the broccoli florets. Colt wondered if the hospital had given Grandpa a whole lot of Prozac, or if the tide was really changing in their relationship.

Daisy hadn't returned from her meeting with the construction crew at the inn, so Colt grabbed a slice of pizza and changed into his running clothes. When Colt came back into the kitchen, the dog tagged along. Colt reached for the door handle, and the dog barked.

“Seems he wants to go with you,” Grandpa said.

“Hey, he's your dog.”

“And I just got out of the hospital.” Grandpa flipped out the footrest and sat back in his chair. “I'm supposed to take it easy for at least ten minutes.”

“All right, all right.” Colt retrieved the leash from the hook by the door and snapped it on the dog's collar. “Okay, you can come, but keep your opinions to yourself.”

Major Pain barked, and wagged his tail some more as they headed out the door. Outside, the storm from the night before had disappeared, leaving in its place a bright, warm, sunny day. Broken palm fronds and chunks of tree bark littered the beach, but otherwise, everything was quiet and still. Waves sung a gentle
shush-shush
song, reaching into the shore and back again.

Colt wondered if there was still an imprint in the sand from Daisy's glorious body last night. That had been an amazing night, one he knew he'd never forget. Hot, sexy, edged with danger—pretty much all words that encapsulated Daisy Barton. Maybe tonight the two of them could take another walk—or he could take her up on that rain check for a long, hot shower, followed by a long, hot night in his bed.

“Nice day,” he said to the dog, because if Colt didn't start thinking about something else, he wasn't going to be able to walk straight.

The dog didn't answer. Just kept on walking, his tail beating a happy, frantic beat against the air. The dog was amiable and easy, walking on the leash without pulling or detouring. He seemed genuinely happy just to be outside with Colt.

“You know I didn't want you,” Colt said to the dog. “But you're kinda growing on me. Don't tell my grandfather.”

Major Pain looked up at him and wagged his tail. With the way his ears perked and his tongue lolled, one might even say he was smiling. Or saying
I told you so
.

“Maybe you'd even make a good running buddy. What do you think? Would you like to run?”

Major Pain let out a little bark and wagged his tail some more. Colt took that as a yes, so he broke into a slow jog. The dog kept pace easily, and the two of them ran a mile down the beach, then another, then a third. The dog trotted along beside him, as if he'd done this a thousand times before.

Colt rounded the corner to the Hideaway Inn, and caught sight of Nick, working on some gutters on the backside of the building. Colt slowed his pace, and turned to the dog. “Probably not a coincidence I ended up here, is it?”

The dog didn't answer. Colt took that as agreement.

He climbed the sandy path to the inn, scanning the building for any sign of Daisy. He hadn't seen her since last night, since that incredible moment on the beach that had changed everything. It wasn't just about finally opening up to her about Henry, it was about finally letting her into his heart.

Falling for her in a way that went far deeper than the lusty infatuation he'd had at eighteen. That thought had him hastening his pace, taking the wooden steps to the inn two at a time.

“Hey, Colt. Nice surprise to see you here,” Nick said. He climbed down from the ladder and swiped the back of his hand across his forehead. Then he reached in a nearby cooler and pulled out a water bottle. “Want one?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Colt unscrewed the top, then grabbed a plastic lid off of Nick's makeshift workbench, and poured some water into it for the dog. “Have you seen Daisy?”

“You just missed her. I think she was heading for your place.”

“Oh, okay. Just thought I'd ask.”

“Just thought you'd ask? Bullshit.” Nick grinned. “You're interested in her. I can tell.”

“She's still my wife, Nick. Of course I'm interested.”

“In a purely legally connected way?”

Colt took a long drink of water. “Well . . . I wouldn't call it purely.” Actually, not a single one of Colt's thoughts lately about Daisy had been pure. “Or legal.”

Nick laughed. The back door of the inn opened and Maggie came outside. She had on a dark blue tank top and cutoff denim shorts. Nick's attention jerked to her legs, then her breasts, then her legs again. Colt half expected his friend to start drooling.

“I'm going to grab some subs for lunch,” Maggie said to Nick. “You want one?”

Nick was still staring at Maggie's legs, and didn't respond. Colt gave him a jab. “Oh, uh, yeah, sure,” Nick said.

Maggie grinned. “The usual?”

“Yeah, that'd be great. And some chips.”

Maggie put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “You know what happens when you order chips? I end up eating half of them. You are one bad influence, Nick Patterson.” Then she turned and went back inside.

“Don't I wish,” Nick mumbled.

“You are a pitiful excuse for a man,” Colt said.

“What the hell do you mean by that?”

“You keep telling me to go after Daisy, in a non-purely legally connected way, and here you are, having to pick your jaw up off the concrete after a conversation about subs with Maggie.”

Nick shrugged. “I get excited about lunch.”

“You get excited about
her
.” Colt nodded in the direction Maggie had gone. “When are you going to ask her out?”

“Never. I work with her.” Nick swiped at the sweat on his brow and took another drink of water. “Do you know what a disaster that would be?”

“So you're saying you're planning on breaking her heart?”

Nick scowled. “Don't make me regret giving you that water bottle.”

Colt laughed. He took a seat on an overturned five-gallon bucket, with Major curling into the shade beside him. “Speaking of women who make a man weak in the knees, I think you're right about taking things beyond a purely legal interest. I'm going to go for round two with Daisy.”

“If this is going to lead into a discussion about your sex life, at least wait till I have my lunch.”

“I meant round two of our marriage. Not sex. Though the two do go hand in hand.”

Nick leaned back and gave Colt an assessing glance. “You two are back together? Didn't you tell me a few days ago that she drives you crazy? Now you're rocking the Kasbah over there in
chez Harper
?”

Colt laughed. “I am not even going to talk about that mess of a sentence you regurgitated.”

“You, my friend, are avoiding the question.”

“Okay, yeah, we are back together.” A goofy, silly grin filled Colt's face. The same grin he'd woken up with and had yet to shake. “I'm thinking of making it permanent.”

“More permanent than already being married?”

“More permanent, as in, making it a real marriage.”

Nick chuckled. “You just want an excuse to have her sleep in your bedroom.”

“Well, that is one of the many perks of marriage.” Colt grinned again, then sobered. He toyed with the water bottle, peeling at the label. “Seriously, though, she's different now.
I'm
different now. And together, we're better than we were before. She makes me want to be a better person, a better man, and I don't want to let go of that. But I still worry about it not working out.” He tore off the label and tossed it in the trash. “Maybe I'm doing the wrong thing and I should just let us get divorced.”

Nick wagged a finger at him. “You, my friend, are afraid. You are an excellent doctor, but maybe you're too good.”

“There's no such thing as being too good of a doctor.”

“There is when you keep thinking you're responsible for the whole world. You can't fix everything or everyone.”

“I know that.” It was part of the tragedy that came with being in medicine. Sometimes those you fought really hard to save still didn't make it. Even those you loved. “You can't force somebody to take your advice. They have to want it for themselves.”

“Yeah? Then why are
you
the only one you haven't fixed? You take the cautious road, the one most traveled, instead of going after what you really want. You're all talk, no follow through. If you ask me, I think it's because you're afraid of losing someone else you love. And hell, that risk comes along every time you open your eyes.”

Colt thought about that for a second. Was that what he had done? Why he had let fourteen years go by before seeing Daisy again? Why he had taken off after that night they'd had three months ago, and sent her the divorce papers? “You're awfully wise for a man who barely beats me at basketball.”

“That's just part of my charm.” Nick grinned.

“Thanks, Nick.” Colt finished off the water, and tossed the bottle into a nearby recycle bin. Nick was right. It was time to stop worrying about the what-ifs and just take the leap. “I'm going to head home now and see if my wife wants to go out to dinner tonight. And every night for the rest of our lives.”

*   *   *

Daisy clutched the envelope to her chest. It was done. She didn't know how she felt yet, other than . . . numb.

A few swipes of a pen, and the last bit of silly, girlish hope in Daisy Barton had dissolved. She had made a vow this morning to stop being starry-eyed and impetuous and instead approach her decisions with calm, reasonable rationale.