REDEEMING THE ROSE: GILDED KNIGHTS SERIES BOOK 1 Page 21

  Funnily, he sounds truly disappointed at that thought. Luc wants to be a hero; he wants the accolades, he wants a newspaper article written about him, purely so he can show his friends and gloat about it.

  “We can’t have all the fame all the time, Lenaghan.” I nod toward a couple already sitting on the end of our ambulance. They huddle together and share a single blanket. “We’ll start there and work our way out till it’s done.”

  “Keep a tally,” he says. “Most serious injury wins. Loser buys breakfast.”

  “You’re always angling for a free meal.”

  * * *

  I work methodically, clinically, and carefully to help each person who moves past my ambulance. Some have nothing more than a cut here and there from flying debris. Others have burns from being too close to the inferno.

  Guilty by association, or nosy and lacking in self-preservation? Who knows.

  One woman steps forward with a clearly broken bone in her hand—metacarpal, maybe. Perhaps trapezium. None of which I’ll ever know. My job is to wrap, stabilize, and then toss her over to the ER for treatment.

  Another patient steps forward with a quarter-shaped slice of steel sitting half embedded in the back of his skull. I’m no crime scene investigator, but my intuition says this guy was running away from a pending boom, and just so happened to take a shot in the back of his head.

  My job is not to judge, speculate, or condemn. But I sure as shit am adding it to my tally for tonight and forcing Luc to buy me a meal.

  * * *

  “Pancakes.” I look up at the busty brunette inside Franky’s diner and smile for her. She wears bright red lipstick, a pencil behind her ear, and a sparkle in her eye, since we’re not exactly newbs to this place. “Please,” I add. “And a little whipped cream on the side.”

  “Can I also suggest a cardiothoracic surgeon?” Katrina smarts. “Or would you like something real with your meal?”

  “We already have hook-ups with the heart team.” Smirking, Luc spreads out, arms and legs, on his side of the booth. “I’ll have the same as him, Kat. But with coffee too. Lots and lots of it.”

  Katrina stands over us both, notepad and pen in hand, and her toes tapping the floor like she thinks her ‘mom eyes’ will convince us to do better. But when we remain strong, she huffs. “I’m disgusted with you two. You’re supposed to promote healthy living. You’re doctors!”

  “Not doctors,” Luc inserts. “No, ma’am. We just drive the meat wagon and shuffle folks about.”

  “But no,” she continues as though he didn’t even speak. “This is the shit you order when you eat out. There are children watching you guys, you know that? They look at you, and your cute faces, and your flat stomachs, and they figure they can eat shit too, and still be a hero.”

  “Wait,” Luc flashes a wide grin. “You think we’re cute? How does Cap feel about that?”

  “Shut up!” she growls. “You’re irresponsible with the power you possess. And that saddens me.”

  “You’re supposed to upsell, Kat. Your job is to be nice, ya know, for the tips, and to upsell, so we buy the jumbo milkshake instead of the small. Not ask us to go home and eat fiber-rich cereal.”

  “Eat the damn cereal,” she hisses. “Then come here for the milkshake. I can get on board with that. I would approve of that.”

  “Not today,” he snickers. “Once I’m home, I’m going to bed. I won’t make my way back here till tomorrow.”

  “I’m mad at you.”

  She saves most of her anger for Luc, since I guess she knows him better than she knows me. That doesn’t mean I’m oblivious to why she’s mad.

  Turning on her heels, she slaps our orders in with the chef.

  I look to Luc. “Her kid okay?”

  “Mac?” He nods and stifles a long yawn. “He’s fine. Had a bit of a scare a while back when he needed to go back into surgery. He had fluid…” He thinks on that for a moment, exhaustion making it hard for him to link thoughts. “I dunno. Around his heart, I think. They had to drain it. But he’s fit now. Training again.”

  “And she’s on a tear about heart health. Can’t say I blame her.”

  “Her kid dropped dead,” Luc grunts under his breath so she doesn’t overhear us. “He was fit as a fiddle, then he was dead. Scariest day of her damn life. But now he’s kicking it with a new heart, and I bet she’s on him every damn minute of the day about eating right and taking care of what he’s got.”

  “Can’t say she’s being unreasonable. It’s not like I’m not all over Abby all the time about taking care of herself.”

  “Exactly.” Luc sits back and fakes a playful grin when Katrina stomps back with the coffeepot and a mug. “Kat?” He places his hand on her wrist when she finishes pouring and turns to leave.

  Stopping, she comes back and meets his eyes.

  “Can I have the heart-smart cereal instead? Is it too late to switch my order?”

  Her eyes soften. Her spine unstiffens. “Not too late. I already told Stefan to set you up right. If you’d eaten that, then I would have brought your pancakes out.”

  Shaking his head, but with a gentle laugh, Luc releases her wrist and settles back into his seat. “Fair deal. I’ll eat my healthy food first. Then we can have fun.”

  “Thank you.” Smirking, then winking, Katrina turns away and goes to work seating a new customer when he comes in the door. “Good morning, Ray.”

  “We set a wedding date.” From one subject to another, Luc’s brain bounces around the way it often does when we’re not on shift. “We settled on the first weekend in May.”

  “Spring wedding.” Nodding, I let my eyes droop closed. Once I’m done eating, I’m going home to sleep. Or better yet, if I can get away with it, I’m gonna sneak into Nadia’s bed. If I can’t sleep with her, then sleeping in her bed is a close second-best. “Weather will be nice.”

  “Not too hot, not too cold,” he agrees. “My sister will have had the babies, and she’ll have had time to settle into that new world. Then it’s my turn.”

  “I often forget you’re gonna be an uncle,” I mumble, low on my breath. Low on energy. “Out of sight, out of mind, ya know? And I rarely see your sister.”

  He brings his coffee up and battles back the exhaustion kicking both our asses now that we’re sitting. “I see her every single day. She’s gonna fall over soon, Mitch. She’s so fuckin’ front heavy. I wanna murder Kane Bishop for doing that to her. But honestly?” He leans forward, looks around the diner, then back to me. “The dude scares the piss out of me. He’s crazy dangerous, and he isn’t sorry for it.”

  “And what? You just let your sister date him? You know he’s crazy, but you let them share a bed?”

  He shrugs. “Bishop’s on our side, and he sure as shit doesn’t scare Jess. She might be the most protected woman on this planet now, followed closely by Laine, because once he accepted responsibility for Jess, he also gave that same promise to Laine.”

  “And you just…” I think of my sister. Of her living with a man like Kane Bishop—thug, dangerous, and unstoppable—and shake my head. “It hurts my brain that you just allow it.”

  “Well, I can’t change it. She’s in love, Mitch. The real kind of love, where she was without him for months, and instead of moving on, she made herself sick. I don’t get to allow or disallow shit. I just fall in line and hope she shares her life with me.”

  Setting his coffee mug down, he brings icy blue eyes back to mine. “What the hell do you think you get to say when Abby finds that someone? What about when she has kids? You think you get a say?” He exhales a soft laugh. “Bro, you’re voted out the moment she meets her man.”

  “No, not Ab. She…” I work to rid my mind of the memories of her as a sick child. Orange curtains, and IV bags. The slow drip, and the fast vomit. “I don’t think Abby will ever have children. Her treatment fucked her up as a kid, so I don’t think she has that future. And she’s yet to meet that man, so it’s a non-issue. My sister is years awa
y from that nonsense.”

  Smug and smiling about it, Luc only shrugs and perks up when the bell in the kitchen dings, and Katrina swings around to grab our food. “I look forward to the day we can discuss your sister’s wedding. I can’t wait to watch you squirm.”

  “Shut the fuck up.” I scowl for him, smile for Katrina, and accept my meal. “He’s buying, by the way. Don’t let him leave till he settles the bill.”

  17

  Nadia

  Croissants, Anyone?

  “Oh man. He’s cuuuuute.” I angle my body and watch a man with a hell of a lot of ink and a smile about a mile wide walk out of Abby’s shop and onto the sidewalk. Then I look back to my boss and grin. “You and him could be cute together.”

  “Oh shush!” Abby whips me with a long, green frond that she’s supposed to be working into an arrangement. “You need to stop doing the imaginary set-up thing with every single man who walks in here. Newsflash!” She waves her hands. “They’re here because they’re already in a relationship with a woman. That woman isn’t me.”

  “Who says my set-ups are imaginary? I’m shopping for you, sister. I’m convinced you need to know what it’s like to be romanced. You need it.”

  “No.” Abigail, I’ve discovered, gets defensive when she feels vulnerable. Wow, surprise Rosa genes there. “What I need is for us to finish this order. Then we have to prepare for the Bishop wedding. How about you help me with that?”

  “You get mean when you’re shy.” I toss a spool of ribbon at my boss, and cackle when she bats it away. “I’m just trying to help you out. You are a healthy, beautiful woman in her mid-twenties. You’ll never get this time back, so why the hell aren’t you out there hoeing it up?”

  As predicted—because I guess I can be cruel sometimes—Abby’s cheeks flame bright red. “I’m never going to h—” She chokes on the bad word. “Be promiscuous. I’m saving myself for someone special. For someone who truly deserves it. Not just any guy who walks in off the street and looks good in a pair of sunglasses.”

  “Sunglasses?” I lift both brows and giggle at how easy it is to tease her. It’s a Rosa thing, I’m certain. “Sunglasses trip your trigger, Abigail?”

  “No, I—”

  “I’m more of a chest gal myself. And butts.” I let my eyes roll upward. “A firm man-butt in a pair of work pants?” I groan. “Heaven, save me, because I’m about to sin.”

  “There’s something wrong with you.” Abby shakes her head and turns in search of the very ribbon she batted away only a moment ago. “What about you, huh? You’re awfully interested in my dating life, yet no one is discussing those roses sitting in the back room.” She tilts her head in her own version of sass. “Don’t think for a second I didn’t search for a card.”

  “They came from a secret admirer,” I laugh. Thank god they came with no card! “You don’t have to worry about my dating life. I wanna keep talking about yours.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. I have no dating life.”

  “Exactly! Where do we have to go and with whom must we speak so that we can get some flowers and poems sent here with your name on them?”

  “Nowhere, and no one.” Huffing, she cuts off a length of different ribbon when she can’t find the first. “I’m taking these up to the hospital in a moment, then I need you to head on over to the Historic Hotel for me. Can you do that?”

  “Wait.” I stop what I’m doing and meet her bi-colored eyes. “Me? Why?”

  “Because there’s a woman in town looking to buy it, and I guess she wants to have all of her ducks in a row before pulling the trigger. She’s talking to vendors and making plans as though she already owns it.”

  “But… she doesn’t?”

  “Nope. Rumors are she’s a stickler for business, savvy as a goat, and—”

  “A goat?”

  Snickering, she waves me off and picks up her completed bouquet. “Ask me sometime to tell you about the pet goat we had when I was a kid. But not today. We’re too busy. This woman, she wants to talk about an ongoing contract for fresh flowers. She wants arrangements for the reception desk, front parlor, public bathrooms, and hallways.”

  “An ongoing contract?” I gape. “That’ll cost a fortune.”

  “No.” Swinging around from behind the desk, Abby holds the bouquet in one hand, and grabs her purse and keys with the other. “Those are not the words you’ll use when speaking with her. You’ll mention how beautiful it’ll all be, and how, on a weekly contract, we’ll cut her a deal for ten percent off. And if she just so happens to host weddings in her ballroom in the future, then those weddings can also enjoy ten percent off if the bride and groom choose us as flower suppliers for the wedding.”

  “She’s not the only one who’s business savvy.” Impressed, I watch as Abby crosses the shop. “But why are you sending me to negotiate? This sounds like an Abby thing.”

  “First off, I would like to think all future meetings like this are a Nadia thing. You’re the one with the fancy degree, remember? And second, I’m busy as heck. I have to run these to the hospital, then Jess is coming in for her final inspection before the wedding. She needs to approve of the bouquet I designed.”

  “The one in the fridge?” I beam with pride for a woman I didn’t even know this time last year. “She’ll love it.”

  “Fingers crossed. Once I get back, you can go to the hotel. If I get caught up, maybe I’ll call Roy in to help.”

  “Tag team,” I insert enthusiastically. “I like our teamwork.”

  “Me too.” Stopping at the door, Abby looks to me with a soft smile. “I’m really glad you chose this town, Nadia. I’m really glad you’re here.”

  “Aw man.” Reaching up, I swipe a finger under my eye; it’s half joke, half real. “I’m glad I ended up here too, Ab. Truly.”

  “See you in no more than an hour.” Moment over, Abby swings the door wide and stops again with a squeak when Cady’s mom shyly steps in. “Marjorie. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Marjorie’s eyes come to mine and soften.

  It should feel strange that she comes in so often. More so that she tends to come in my direction, like my offer of bright flowers that first time has endeared her to me. But I struggle to pass judgment. Her child died, and it’s still fresh enough that she’s allowed to act however the hell she wants.

  “I just…” she stammers. “Um… daisies, maybe.”

  “I’ve got this.” I smile for both women, and secretly cheer for the fact that Marjorie is here without her guard dog today.

  Naturally, I can’t pass judgment on him either, but that doesn’t mean I have to ignore the fact that he makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. His unfiltered anger wigs me out, and it is nowhere in my employment contract that I have to accept it.

  When the woman stops in front of my desk with a… well… it’s not a smile, but it’s slightly less severe than a grimace, I place my hand on her arm and gesture toward a lovely boxed display of daisies that I prepared just this morning.

  * * *

  Taking my sunglasses off and smirking at the reminder that Abby has weird turn-ons, I set them in my purse and juggle my folder as I continue to walk. From sidewalk, to grass, to pathway, and then through the front doors of the local historic hotel. I slow my steps at the sight of a woman in fire-engine red heels and a skirt tight enough to make me consider switching teams, and scowl at how bombshell-beautiful she is—and, in comparison, how plain I feel.

  “Abigail Rosa?” Her accent is thick, so thick that I almost reply with an undignified ‘huh’ as she hustles forward at a brisk pace. She moves at lightning-fast speed, as though she thinks losing a single moment is like burning money. “From the flower shop?”

  “Close. I’m Nadia Reynolds, here on behalf of Abigail.”

  “Idalia Mazzi.” She stops close enough that her perfume fills my lungs and makes me sigh. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

  “You’re, like, super Italian, huh? Not even
trying to pretend otherwise.”

  “Heh.” Releasing my hand, Idalia tucks silky, brown hair behind her ear and adjusts her purse on her shoulder. She makes me think of Jennifer Lopez in the nineties… but Italian. “My grandparents,” she purrs. It’s doubtful she’s trying to seduce me, but her voice… “On my, uh… paternal side, emigrated here when they were newlyweds. They wanted this lifestyle, but then my parents rebelled. They moved back to Italy soon after I was conceived. Now, I’m what some may say, fresh off the boat.”

  “Only racists,” I smirk. “You’re new to town?”

  “Not yet.” Ass, tits, and silky hair, Idalia bustles past the actual owners of the hotel, and leads me toward what were, I’m certain, ornate stairs once upon a time. “Though, I may be, if I decide to buy The Oriane.”

  “The O– er…” I hesitate. “That’s not what this place is called.”

  She chortles, breathy and carefree. “It will be if I buy it. I’m looking for elegance, Nadia. Exclusivity. We’re turning this place around, from what it is right now, into something that will host only elite events.” She slows as we approach the top stair. “I have contacts already, and event organizers ringing me nonstop. They want my hotel.”

  “But… you do not yet own a hotel…”

  “Not yet.” Grinning, she extends a hand toward the shitty, run-down hallway. I swear, in her mind, she sees something else. “I want each and every floor lined with Abigail’s flowers. I’m aware that people may suffer from allergies, so at some point, we must sit down and discuss what is best for each arrangement. We do not want to alienate guests.”

  “No. We do not.”

  “I want to add three additional floors to The Oriane, one of which will be a permanent residence, two others, special event rooms.” Her eyes come to mine, sultry and seductive. “Honeymoon suites, or something similar.”