Wrecked (Stories of Serendipity #8): #8 Read online

  Stories of Serendipity

  Anne Conley's

  Wrecked

  Anne Conley

  Text copyright © 2013 Anne Conley

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of a brief quotation embodied in critical articles and/or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by Vanessa Booke

  Edited by Nicole Powers

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue: Five months later

  About The Author

  Contact Anne

  Anne's Serendipity Books

  For The Reader

  Acknowledgments

  Special thanks to Suzanne, who has read this manuscript more than anyone else, besides myself, for her encouragement and kind words. You are a constant reminder of the reason I publish, and I’m so glad I’ve found someone else who thinks my characters are as real as I do.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to those with whom I’ve become close on this journey of mine – my writing group. What began as a random group of women with one thing in common has led to friendship of incomparable worth.

  And as always, to my husband. Without your support, I wouldn’t be doing any of this. Thanks Stud.

  Chapter 1

  Renae’s heart was broken. Kelly was officially installed in her dorm room, groceries purchased (yogurt cups, lunch meat, and Dr Peppers) for her mini-fridge, and neon purple decorations abounded. Her buddy was gone. Two hours away. Renae drove back to Serendipity, feeling indescribably lonely. She tried to focus on the road and increasingly familiar landmarks as she got closer to home, but her mind kept wandering back to memories of her daughter: her mess, her noise, her complaints.

  It had been Kelly and Renae for sixteen years, and now Kelly had gone off to college, as it should be. Renae had raised her daughter to be independent, make her own choices, and survive on her own. Now that it had happened, Renae felt lost. It seemed like only yesterday she’d given birth to the tiny baby, and two years later she’d promised that baby they would conquer the world together.

  That was why she didn’t immediately see the motorcycle. She was waiting to turn right after the railroad tracks and had been trying to see over the truck with enormous mudding wheels on her left, blinker on, when some reptilian part of her brain decided it was clear, and her foot lifted off the brake pedal.

  As she gently pushed on the gas, turning into the correct lane, she straightened into her turn, noticing a blur in her peripheral vision. When she turned to look, the blur took shape and a man on a motorcycle flew by her into the ditch on the side of the road. He hit a bump and the bike flipped, sending him flying, landing several feet away from his motorcycle, flat on his back.

  He’d been swerving to miss her, and she’d never even seen him. Her stomach plummeted at the idea that she’d nearly hit the rider and could have killed him while she’d been reminiscing about a life that was changing.

  Renae slammed on her brakes and backed up, driving her van into the ditch between the man and his bike, trying to get close and out of the road.

  “Oh no…” Heart thudding in her chest, the sense of dread in her limbs nearly paralyzed her as she forced her hand to unlatch her door and walk around to where the man lay on his back. He was long and lanky but still muscular. The frighteningly still body held a silent strength, and she said a quick prayer she hadn’t killed him. On her knees next to his still body, Renae was afraid to touch him. She looked around to see the giant truck had gone, leaving her there alone to fix this man.

  “Sir?” Her hand stroked his chest, hoping the touch would revive him. She prayed he would sit up and declare himself fit, hop back on his motorcycle and drive off. A-OK. “Sir?” She said it again.

  His motorcycle helmet was black. And shiny. She hated to put smudges on it, trying to see his face, and she didn’t dare try to remove it. He might have a spinal injury or something. So she tried to raise the visor on it, leaving fingerprint smudges on the reflective fiber-glass.

  His eyes were closed, framed by long, light brown eyelashes.

  “Sir?” She reached in and stroked his cheek. Smooth skin, with a coating of rough stubble and a slack jaw. His skin was warm, though, and sent a small tremor up her arm as her fingers lightly trailed down his face. But he didn’t respond. “Oh no…” She’d killed him. Leaning back on her heels, Renae touched his shoulder, shaking him gently. Nothing.

  Renae leaned over the man, resting her ear on his chest, noticing how firm the muscles were there, as she tried to look up at his face under the helmet. She couldn’t hear anything over the sound of her own heartbeat, so she crawled closer, straddling his slim hips, hands on his biceps, keeping her head on his chest. His body was hot, pressed against hers, and a shiver of awareness coursed through Renae. She tried to concentrate on listening for his heartbeat, but her own blood rushed so loudly in her ears.

  Finally, she did notice a rise and fall of his chest, so she knew he was breathing, and if he was breathing, his heart had to be pumping, right? She could see his long neck reaching into the helmet, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow. His hips rose suggestively, and Renae was shocked to feel a riotous heat in her crotch. She sat up and looked at the man, whose eyes were open wide, dark blue orbs staring at her with disbelief.

  Suddenly, Renae was being shoved off the man by hands she didn’t see. The man sat up, ripping off his helmet, dropping it to the ground.

  “What the fuck!?”

  Speechless, she could only stare as dark eyes mesmerized her, settling on Renae. “Did you hit me?”

  She nodded, gulping down embarrassment. “I’m sorry… I—” Renae wasn’t sure what she was sorry about, her intimacy with an unconscious stranger, or making him unconscious in the first place.

  “You weren’t texting, were you?” His anger was palpable, and Renae couldn’t blame him. He could have been killed. Strong, thick hands fisted at his sides.

  She shook her head slowly, seeing him for the first time. He was gorgeous, and su
ddenly all words in her defense completely left her. If she had killed this guy, women the world over would hate her forever.

  His short, dark hair stuck up wildly with sweat - helmet head, she supposed - but it was sexy. There were slight streaks of silver at his temples, shining in the sunlight. His face was rugged in a weathered, sun-kissed way, a nose that had been broken, with a scar running down his left temple. But it was an undeniably handsome face with chiseled features and impossibly blue eyes. His jeans had been ripped in the wreck, and Renae tried not to stare at the top of his thigh that peeked through the mangled denim.

  “Are you okay?” She managed to squeak out, feeling terrible about everything.

  “Where’s my bike?”

  Renae looked around, not having a clue. She’d never even thought about the bike, as concerned as she had been about the man. Eventually, she went back to the other side of her minivan and found it lying on its side. She bent down, grabbed the handle bars, and heaved, unable to budge the metal.

  “I got it,” he growled behind her. He reached down and righted the machine, straddling it. His helmet dangled from his hand before he crammed it back on his head.

  “Wait…” She turned to the minivan and rummaged around in her purse, spilling the contents into the floorboard until she found what she was looking for. Holding out her insurance card, she said, “Here. If you need anything done, I should be covered. All the information is here….I’ve got another copy at home.” She felt completely inadequate in this situation. He seemed angry at her, and she couldn’t blame him. His body language radiated irritation from the squared set of his shoulders to the grip on the handlebars, to his tense thigh muscle peeking out through his torn jeans. And his face… She swallowed disappointment that the stern set of his mouth and the crinkled brow indicated annoyance with her stupidity. Renae felt undeniably guilty for not paying enough attention, for hitting him. If he was hurt, she’d die. And she didn’t even know him.

  Without a word, his hand slowly reached for the card, grasping it in his fingers. He didn’t look at it as he slipped it inside his coat pocket before turning back to his bike.

  Renae stifled the overwhelming surge of hormones that rushed through her body. Every cell inside her wanted to straddle the motorcycle behind him and hang on to his rippling torso. She exhaled sharply, as he jumped twice before starting the roaring motorcycle.

  “Are you okay?” She had to yell to be heard over the engine.

  The man didn’t respond, just looked at her with those arctic blue eyes, snapped down his visor, and with a roar, continued down the road she’d been turning onto an eon ago.

  Renae heaved a sigh, relieved she hadn’t killed him, yet disappointed somehow, and got into her van to continue home. Alone.

  Chapter 2

  Wind rushed through Jason’s clothes as he throttled the bike to a legal speed. He’d survived another crash, and the adrenaline flowed through his veins. His feet shook as he habitually kept a constant look out for other cars. Obviously, his own diligence just wasn’t enough.

  The woman had been negligent in her driving, and if he wasn’t ready to get to his dad’s and get the visit over with, he might have stayed to get more information. She was gorgeous and indebted to him, and it would be easy to see where that could go, but he didn’t have time right now.

  Nope, it hadn’t been a bad wreck. He’d just been knocked out and his jeans ripped. Other than that he’d have a headache later but nothing like the last time. He shuddered at the memory, said a quick prayer of thankfulness he still lived, and continued on his way.

  His dad had been making Jason nervous the past few months. He’d been doing this weird picking thing with his clothes for a while, almost a year, and on Jason’s last visit, his dad had actually started picking at Jason’s clothes. That in itself was odd. But last week he’d said he needed a new cane, one that held a rapier so he could “kill the little demons,” and had freaked Jason out a little. His dad was losing it, and Jason needed to get him to a doctor and get him some meds on the double. With his brother Jodie in Dallas and his own excuse for a job in Houston, neither of them could really take care of their dad full time. Of course, since Jason didn’t have a family, he was the one delegated to come up and check on Dad this weekend.

  Pulling his bike up in front of his dad’s Mailboxes and More shop, Jason cut the engine and tugged his helmet off. Before he could even shake the dust off himself, a frantic man came running out of the shop.

  “Hey, man. You can’t park there, I’m sorry. That’s where the ambulance is going to need to be.” The drawl was clipped with urgency, and the man’s face was lined with worry.

  “What ambulance? What happened?”

  “Old man O’Niel fell, and I called an ambulance.” Jason was inside the shop, the man trailing after him, finishing his sentence.

  “Dad?” A grunt answered him. He found his dad at the base of the stairs behind a rack of greeting cards. “Dad? Are you okay?” Obviously not. His ankle was twisted at an odd angle.

  “Yeah. Just sprained my ankle I think.” Watery blue eyes met Jason’s. “It’s good to see you, son. Hate that it’s like this…” A grimace of pain accompanied his shift in position, and his gnarled fingers were spastically picking at the hem of his dirty t-shirt.

  “Just sit still. That guy called an ambulance. They should be here soon.” Clasping his dad’s hand in his own to still the frantic picking, he turned to the man, standing behind him. “When did you call?”

  Checking the cell phone in his pocket, he answered, “About five minutes ago. They should be here any minute. I’m Les, by the way.” Les held out his hand, and Jason shook it.

  “Jason. I was coming to spend the weekend with him. Were you here when he fell?”

  Les nodded. “Yeah, he was coming down the stairs. Then he started yelling at something, and that’s when he fell.”

  “Squirrels.”

  They both turned to look at Mr. O’Niel. “What?”

  “Squirrels. They’ve been getting in while I nap. I can’t keep the buggers out of here.”

  Jason looked around, seeing man-made trash: empty boxes, packaging material, envelopes piled haphazardly, a roll of stamps coming undone on the countertop, empty pigeon-hole boxes with crap piled in front of them. Nothing that showed any evidence of squirrel inhabitation.

  He turned to Les. “Have you seen any squirrels?”

  The man shook his head. “Nope. And I’m in here every week. But he sure does talk about them a bunch.”

  A man poked his head inside the shop. “Can somebody move this motorcycle?”

  Jason hopped up off the floor to make way for the ambulance while emergency medical personnel got his dad on a stretcher. When he had the bike across the street so the ambulance could back up to the door, Les pulled him aside.

  “Hey man. I’m really glad you’re here. I’ve been worried about Joe. He’s been getting worse.”

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed. That’s why I came up. What all has he been telling you?”

  “Oh, he talks about the demoniacal squirrels all the time, how he’s going to kill them all. But the kicker was after he started carrying around this ancient twenty-two revolver loaded with rat shot, he actually pulled it on a customer. That’s when I started asking him about his family. I was going to call somebody. And get this…” He closed in on Jason conspiratorially, a wry smile on his lips. “He says he has two sons, one’s a family man lawyer-type, and the other’s a musical genius. Can you believe it?” Les leaned back, laughing good-naturedly and clapped Jason on the shoulder.

  “Yeah, I’d be worried too.”

  Les and Jason exchanged phone numbers so Jason could keep Les updated on Joe’s progress, then Jason followed the ambulance to the ER where Jason put in a call to Joe’s general practitioner.

  After x-rays and a wrap, Jason wheeled his dad to his car. He’d left his bike at the shop, choosing instead to drive his dad’s Buick to the hospital. He knew he’d have
to take him to Dr. Higgenbotham after the ER visit. The ER suggested they go to a different orthopedist, but Joe liked Dr. Higgenbotham, and at this point, that was the most important thing. They had given him some pain medication and a prescription for more, but Jason wanted to get a boot on this foot before he did anything else.

  Dr. Higgenbotham, as always, was extremely solicitous to Joe, and Jason felt much better after seeing him. He’d given a different prescription and made helpful suggestions to Joe on healthy living, eating, taking calcium supplements, etc. When they were leaving the office, the doctor pulled Jason back inside the exam room.

  “You’ll need to check with a specialist to make sure, but I’m seeing signs of early to mid-stage dementia. He really shouldn’t be staying alone. Check with DADS, and see if he qualifies for assistance.”

  “DADS?” Jason was lost.

  “Yeah, it’s a state agency for the aging… I think it’s Department for the Aging something or other.” Doctor Higgenbotham smiled warmly. “I’m fixing to go through it with my mom. It’s not pretty, but most of us have to do it sometime if all is right in the world. I’m looking for sitters in the Dallas area.”

  “Sitters?” This was so much more than he’d bargained for.

  “Someone to spend the night with her, so she doesn’t wake up disoriented.”

  “Thanks, I guess I may extend my stay for a week or so to get him straightened out. I appreciate it, Doc.” The men shook hands, and Jason wheeled his dad back to the Buick before taking him to the hotel where he was planning to stay during his visit.

  “Looks like we’ll be apartment hunting for you on Monday, Dad.” As he situated his dad on the hotel bed, Jason tried to sound encouraging.

  “Why can’t I stay at the shop?”

  “Well, for starters, navigating those stairs in this boot would be killer. And I need to get rid of those squirrels before one of them actually kills you.” He wasn’t convinced on the squirrel issue, but his dad was tired, in pain, and needed to be comfortable. If thinking that Jason believed his squirrel story made him more comfortable, then Jason would lie like a rug.