“Ms. Foster?” a feminine voice called behind her, and shewhirled to one of Kevin’s nurses. “He’s anxious to see you, hon.”
“I’ll be right there.” Natalie wheeled back to the tallstranger and jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. “I have to go. Again, I’m sosorry. At least let me pay to clean your clothes.”
He held up a hand and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.I’m fine. My clothes are fine. It’s just jeans and a shirt.” His gaze darted tothe ceiling. “Well, socks and underwear too.” Amused hazel eyes landed back onher. “But who’s counting?”
Magnanimous of him. She let alittle sigh of relief escape. “Okay. Well then …”
He tilted his head. “Well then.”
She turned and hurried away without a backward glance,steeling her shoulders, chin, and resolve to face whichever Kevin awaited hertoday. Dear God, let it be the pleasant one.
.~* * * ~.
After a stop home to change hiscoffee-stained clothes, T.J. stood on Miller’s doorstep and rang the bell. Witha smile and a shake of his head, he recalled literally running into the lovelyMs. Foster an hour earlier. What were the chances? Obviously, she was visitingsomeone on the same floor as Kevin May. Twice now he’d bumped into her aroundthe same time. If he planned it right, maybe he’d see her again, get a chanceto find out who she was and who she was visiting. Hefound himself hoping it wasn’t a romantic anyone, just as he hoped for anotherencounter—minus the scalding coffee, that is. God, he’d been pissed. But whenhe’d looked into those enormous, horror-filled amber eyes and realized who they belonged to, his anger had fizzled faster than adud firework.
The heavy wooden door groaned open, bringing him back toMiller’s front porch. Dwarfed by the massive arched oak was a petite,auburn-haired woman with light green eyes. Just as heremembered her.
Paige’s face lit up with a dimpled smile. “T.J., come in.”
He handed her two bottles of wine. “Thanks for having me.”
She held the door wide for him, motioning him in as sheglanced at the labels. “Oh, my favorite Zinfandels! Thank you so much.Beckett’s in the kit—”
“Right here, pixie.” Behind her loomed a familiar form.“Hey, my man Shanny. Glad you made it, bro.” Millerpulled him into a hug, pounded his back, and dragged him into the foyer whilePaige closed the door. Then Miller slipped an arm around her shoulders, drawingher close, and kissed the top of her head.
Pixie? Yeah, I get that. The size difference was almostcomical. What was that old cartoon strip—Mutt and Jeff?
With a proud, beaming smile, Mutt Miller said, “Let meintroduce you again. T.J., my wife, Paige Miller. Icall her Andie.”
T.J. squelched his amusement. Was this grinning idiot reallyhis old teammate, the mentor he’d once idolized for being a badass and a chickmagnet who could wheel the ladies like none other?
“Congratulations, although it looks to me like you got theshort end of the stick, Paige.” T.J. winced. Christ! Did I just make a shortjoke? “Uh, Andie?”
Freeing herself from Miller’s grip, an easy laugh escapingher, Paige tilted her head at her husband. “Hulk here gave me that pet nameback in college. These days I answer to either, so feel free to call mewhichever one strikes you.” Her eyes bounced between him and Miller. “I’dforgotten how close you two are in size.”
T.J. jerked his chin at Miller. “I think I have severalinches and a few pounds on you.”
Miller clamped a hand on T.J.’s nape. “Not a chance. Doesn’tmatter anyway. I can still whoop your ass.”
“Boys.” Paige rolled her eyes and motioned toward a hallwaywhere a burble of voices blended with muted music. “Everyone’s back here.”
T.J. traipsed after Big Miller and Tiny Miller, passing anenormous wood-and-iron spiral staircase that swept past floor-to-ceilingwindows at least twenty feet high. Miller stopped short.
“Pixie, I’m gonna show T.J. my mancave first.”
“Okay,” she sang over her shoulder.
Miller motioned for T.J. to follow him down a side hall. “SoAndie surprised me when we moved into this house,” hebegan. He came to a wide, solid door, opened it, and stepped through, T.J. onhis heels. “I had no idea she’d designed this and had it built until it wasfinished. She’s sneaky that way.”
“Hooooly shit!” T.J. looked aroundat an enormous open space with gleaming gray granite floors. High above was atray ceiling lined with spotlights that shone down on vehicles stacked on carlifts two-high in the most luxurious garage T.J. had ever laid eyes on. In thevery center, as if it occupied sacred space on a showroom floor, sat a vintageCorvette convertible in cobalt and silver.
T.J. had never been a car buff, but this beauty couldmake a convert out of him.
Miller laughed. “I know, right? C’mon. Let’s grab you abeer.”
Head on a swivel, T.J. stumbled after Miller into a lounge area—itlooked like an in-home theater had had a baby with an upscale car dealershipwaiting room—where Miller pulled a few beers from a stainless fridge. He handedone to T.J.
T.J. popped the cap and took a long gulp, bathing hisparched throat in cool liquid while he reined in his incredulity. “She gave youa garage filled with a classic car collection?”
“No, just the 1960 Corvette over there, to replace one I hadto sell a while back. I’ve been having fun filling the rest of the racks.” Hepointed at the Corvette with his beer bottle. “I had no clue about any of ituntil she blindfolded me and walked me in here last Thanksgiving. The house wasstill under construction, but she had the garage finished before she did herbig reveal. We spent the whole damn night here. Christ, that was hella fun. Best Thanksgiving ever.”
T.J. regarded his old friend for a few beats. “Fuck, Miller,you’ve always been my role model.”
Miller quirked an eyebrow.
“Not the drugs, man, but the rest of it. The game, thewomen.” T.J. chuckled. “But all this domestic—” He stopped himself beforeblurting “bullshit” and shook his head. “You’ve gone in a whole otherdirection.” That I don’t see myself following.Ever. He tipped his beer bottle to his mouth
