Page 3 of Wild Tides
My phone buzzed.
Zach: They get you patched up at the hospital?
Lee: Yes. No running for a while.
Zach: Damn. Sorry.
Zach: Don’t worry. I gave that rock a swift kick in solidarity.
Classic Zach – the same guy who once helped me fill a teenage boy’s truck with manure for daring to date Violet. Hell, I’d been the one shoveling right beside him. I knew exactly what they did to men who went sniffing around their sister. The fact that we were in our thirties now didn’t really change things. They were still protective. And Violet was still the most beautiful woman I’d ever met.
Suffering through her gentle care might finish off the last of my good intentions.
Zach: Need me to pick up a prescription or anything?
Lee: Nope. Vi has it covered.
Zach: Brave man.
Brave for letting her sweep in and run the show, fussing over me? Or brave for letting her within arm’s reach when I already wanted her too much. Either way, he wasn’t wrong.
Writing would be my only salvation. I wouldn’t have running to cleanse the tension. No SAR calls to distract me. Just getting my word count goals met and Violet. 24x7. In other circumstances, it might be heaven. Like if she were an only child.
Being forced to focus on writing would make my editor happy, at least. If I couldn’t go haring off to search for missing hikers or rappel down a cliffside, then I had no excuse not to get my latest draft done.
Thank god my books sold. Finding out you had an affinity for planning murders was only helpful in a few very narrow circumstances. At least the childhood pranks I planned with the Fenwicks became useful life skills. I stretched, spine popping, before turning back to my keyboard.
Like some sixth sense told her I was contemplating trouble, my phone rang,Momon the caller ID.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Why did I get a text from Monica at the clinic that you’re hurt and not a call from you?”
Apparently no one on this island had ever looked up the word “privacy” in the dictionary. Or read the damn policy paperwork they made every patient sign. My parents didn’t even live on San Juan anymore, yet somehow the gossip grapevine worked just fine.
“It’s a minor sprain.”
“Do you need me to come take care of you? Or better yet – take the ferry. I’ll pick you up, and you can stay with your dad and me for a few weeks. We never get to see you.”
A shudder racked my body. Thankfully, we weren’t on a video call. I didn’t want to hurt my mother’s feelings, but staying with her and Dad wouldn’t exactly be restful. The TV volume alone would be enough to drive me nuts.
“That’s a sweet offer, Mom, but I’ve got it covered.” For the first time, I was relieved by my predicament with Violet. It wasn’t ideal, but I was strong enough to resist temptation.
“Are you just saying that, Lee? Because if I can get a concerned text about your injury within hours of it happening, your chances of lying to me about this areslimandnone.”
“Vi offered to stay and help me,” I ground out.
I wasn’t sure what I expected, but my mom’s laughter burst through the line like a punch to my eardrum. I jerked my phone away, regretting not putting it on speaker. Her booming laugh turned into a gentle cackle, eventually fading away to a contented sigh.
“Wait until I tell your father.” The undercurrent of mischief in her tone made me shift on the couch.
“How is Dad? He watching his cholesterol?”
“He’s out golfing.” She snorted. “Claims eighteen holes a day keeps the doctor away.”
My lips curled at the edges. Golfing also kept him out of my mom’s hair. They’d been married long enough to view it as a win-win.
“It can’t hurt.”
