Priced to Move

When I open my eyes, all I see is putrid green walls. Something sharp and detergenty irritates my nostrils. And I feel so bad, I figure I must’ve lost a close encounter of the steamroller kind.

Last thing I remember is fleeing from Miss Mona’s office in Max’s arms. Just the thought of it tears me in two. I mean, most girls dream of a knight in a shining business suit who swoops them into his arms and whisks them off into the sunset.

On the other hand, it was Max who did the swooping.

Not exactly the stuff of my dreams. No, really. He’s gorgeous, but . . . oh, I don’t know. Something about him makes me throw up an incoming missile defense shield. Know what I mean?

I open my eyes again, wider this time. When they focus, I see I’m in a hospital. And then the memory of the gas leak thwaps me between the brows.

That would explain why I’d felt lightheaded and queasy in Miss Mona’s office. I’d blamed it on the snarling fight on screen with Max followed by the gang-up-on-Andie moment, but now I know that wasn’t the cause. I’ve always been sensitive to smells and fumes. Nothing’s worse than gas fumes. They don’t just stink; they can kill.

“Oh no!” Is everyone else okay? Did anyone succumb to the fumes?

My heart begins to pound. I fight the sheet over my body. I realize I’m tethered to an IV fluids pump, which makes my efforts nearly futile. I wriggle. I twist. I find the nurses’ call button and give it a healthy push.

I have to make sure everyone else at the studio got out okay.

A middle-aged woman with dark hair in a ponytail walks in. “Well, hello there! I’m Wilma, your day nurse. It’s good to see you awake.”

“Is—” My dry throat catches my question on its way out, but I push through the discomfort and make myself try again. “Are the others okay?”

“Everyone’s fine.” She pushes a button on the side rail of the bed.

My head goes up. The world takes a whirl. “Wow!”

“You still woozy?”

No joke. “How long will it last?”

“Not much longer. The doctor gave you a mild sedative so you would rest. You had a little trouble breathing, but after you got some oxygen that was fine. You, on the other hand, weren’t taking this all too well.”

Uh-oh. “What does that mean?”

She chuckles. “Let’s just say you’re not the easiest of patients.”

I blush. Half of me wants to know the ugly truth, while the other half wants to hide under the covers. The braver half wins. “What did I do?”

“Oh, you just fought like a wildcat when we tried to start your IV, you didn’t want to have your pulse taken, you didn’t much care for the nasal cannulas the doctor put in your nostrils for that oxygen you needed, and you kept calling everyone a dunce.”

Groan. “You were right. I really didn’t want to hear all that.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Max says from the door.

I groan again.

He laughs. “It was all in character. You behaved just like you always do. You were stubborn, snippy, cranky, and you called everyone names.”

I slink down in the bed but keep my eyes just above the edge of the crisp white sheet. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

Smirking—again—he crosses his arms. “Would you if you were in my place?”

The sheet I now pull over my head does nothing to block out his question. “I’d like to think I’d be . . . oh, magnani-mous—”

His whooping laughs cut me off. “Yeah, right,” he says. “The woman who tried to get me fired because I’m not a gem geek like her now wants me to believe she’d be generous when catching me at my worst.”

My cheeks burn hotter than jalapenos on nachos. Lord? Do I have to eat crow? Can’t I just let this blow by?

God doesn’t answer, but I feel worse by the second. I guess I know the answer.

“Okay, Max. You win. I’ve been a brat. I sorta knew it when

I was giving you grief, but I didn’t want to see beyond my idea of what a gem show host should be.”

He doesn’t respond. I peek out from under my sheet. And groan. Again.

In my best, uberpolite voice, I ask, “Do you think you could wipe off that smirk? I did give you what you wanted. My apology should work, plus I admitted I’ve been a pain . . . for too long.”

He grins. “At the risk of raising your hackles again, you’re cute when your own behavior backs you into a corner.”

“You really know how to kick a woman when she’s down.”

A knock at the door keeps him from answering. In walks Chief Clark. Where’s that sedative when a girl can really use it? My day can’t get much worse. I hope.

“Miss Andie.” That drawl is getting to me. “I’m right sorry you were hurt by the gas leak at the studio. How’re you feeling?”