Clutch Player Read online

  He raised a brow. “Really? I’ve never had any complaints.”

  That wasn’t surprising. He didn’t stick around long enough to hear any. She pushed that uncharitable thought down. The important thing was the kids. Then a thought occurred to her. “Is Vince okay?”

  She’d had the privilege of working with Vince Marino for the past two years as his alter ego, Captain Cuddle, and he was fabulous. So generous, so big-hearted, so sweet.

  Dr. Reynolds, err, Jared, pushed his eye mask back down in place and set his mouth in a flat line. “Vince is fine. He’s acting like an overprotective nut because of Sophia’s morning sickness. I told him it was perfectly normal.”

  “Aww, he’s so sweet. He’s going to make a great dad.”

  Jared huffed. “Yeah, sweet. Alright, where do I start?”

  She eyed him. “Do you have any experience with kids?”

  “Sure, I have a nephew, Miles.”

  She frowned. “He’s just a baby. Vince talks about his godson all the time. It’s different with older kids.” She handed him the goody bag. “Okay, start with Chris’s room. He’s the sickest on the ward. You want to go to the kids likely to fall asleep early first. Speak to them in a cheerful tone, read a story, and offer them a prize from the goody bag. Think you can handle all that?”

  “I’m on it,” he said, striding forward. He stopped abruptly. “Which room is Chris’s?”

  “Eighty-two.”

  He nodded and headed over. She followed behind him quietly and leaned near the door to hear how his first visit went.

  “Hey,” Jared said. “What do you think of the Sox’s chances?” His tone wasn’t cheerful like she’d instructed, but more casual like he was chatting with someone in the elevator.

  She closed her eyes and stifled a groan. But then she heard Chris’s soft voice answer, “The season is over.”

  “Well, we shouldn’t give up hope yet,” Jared replied firmly. “There’s always next year.”

  Her throat tightened, wondering if Chris would make it to next year, while at the same time appreciating Jared’s underlying message, Hang on, kid.

  Chris spoke up. “Hey! You have green eyes. Captain Cuddle has brown eyes.”

  “I’m his stepbrother Captain Huddle. He asked me to visit today because he had to take care of Mrs. Cuddle. She wasn’t feeling very well.”

  “Oh,” Chris said softly. “But there’s a C on your shirt! Huddle starts with an H.”

  “The C stands for captain. I’m gonna read you The Huddle-Cuddle School Smashup. This one was always my favorite because of the playground brawl.”

  “Was it bloody?” Chris asked eagerly.

  “Oh yeah,” Jared enthused.

  “Cool!” Chris exclaimed.

  She shook her head with a smile. That wasn’t true, she knew, but it seemed Jared was quick to pick up on kids’ cues to what they were secretly hoping for. Maybe he would do okay as a onetime stand-in for Vince.

  ~ ~ ~

  Jared finished his three-hour shift as what he’d now renamed himself, Captain Huddle, and leaned against the high half wall of the nurses’ station, completely exhausted. Even sick in bed, kids were a lot of work. They always wanted more stories, had an endless supply of questions, and took forever to pick prizes. He’d resorted to giving each kid a handful of prizes before moving on. And he had to admit it was damn difficult to see kids looking so sick and not be able to help them. He was a doctor who couldn’t heal—the absolute worst. His own patients were mostly healthy adults with joint problems or injuries. It took a special kind of person to work day in, day out with terminally ill kids. He had to give Vince some credit too for volunteering to do this every Saturday for the past two years.

  He spotted Emily walking down the hallway and followed her, taking a moment to appreciate the rear view as her hips swayed and her long, glossy brown hair swung a little back and forth when she walked. Even in plain blue scrubs he could tell she had a killer bod. He was kind of an expert at the what’s-hiding-under-those-scrubs game. Her face was beautiful when she wasn’t scowling at him—kind of a heart shape with smooth skin and a hint of pink to her cheeks, a cute upturned nose, and sweet pink lips. This was definitely a nurse he wanted to get to know better. He hadn’t missed the chemistry between them that made her flush pink, or the fact that she’d checked him out, though she tried to hide her interest with some snappy comebacks.

  “Hey, Emily,” he called.

  She turned, and for a moment it looked like she was going to smile at him, but just as quickly it passed and she regarded him seriously. “What?”

  He pushed the eye mask to the top of his head and caught up to her. “Here,” he said, handing her the empty goody bag. “The rugrats took every last prize.”

  Her brown eyes widened. “That was supposed to last for two weeks!”

  He shrugged. “They took forever to decide, so I let them have a bunch of crap.”

  She scowled. “They each get one thing. I can’t ask Vince to give me more and more money each time.”

  “Vince pays for it?”

  “Yeah. The goody bag was his idea. I do the shopping and he pays.”

  He dug out his wallet and pulled out several twenties. “Here, sorry.”

  She pushed back the money. “No, I’m sorry. You didn’t know. I’ve got it.” She rubbed her forehead. “It’s been a rough morning.” She did look a little worn down, and now that he’d toured the ward, he could see how it could take a toll.

  “Hey, you need a break? I could take you out to dinner.”

  Her lips twitched. “No, thank you, Captain Cuddle.”

  He yanked off the quill cap and eye mask. He’d nearly forgotten he was wearing it. Heat crept up his neck. Dammit. He never blushed. Still, he tried again, wanting to lift the heavy burden of her job from her shoulders, wanting to see her smile. “Drinks?”

  “I’m afraid your reputation precedes you, so no,” she replied, all sassy.

  He grinned. “But that should make you say yes. I can be a lot of fun.” He knew the nurses must speak highly of him because, after he’d scored his first few happy hookups, word got out and women chased him down when they wanted a good time. He always used protection, though, to ensure it was safe fun for everyone. Anyway, lately that had been getting kind of old. Seeing his older brothers settled down and insanely happy had made him start to think, with the right woman, it might be…kinda nice.

  Or not. It could go the other way too—a total disaster—as he well knew.

  She stared at his chest and then his bicep before yanking her gaze back to his eyes. “I’m not in the market for fun.” Though he could tell she was considering it. “Tell Vince I said hi.” She turned and walked away.

  He deflated. It was the first time he’d gotten a no in so long he almost didn’t know what to do with himself. “Hey, Emily,” he called.

  She turned. “What?”

  “What kind of person doesn’t like fun?”

  She raised a hand above her head and pointed to herself before waving him off. She stepped into a patient’s room.

  “Your loss,” he mumbled to himself before heading to the bathroom to change out of the costume. He didn’t want to ruin the superhero illusion for the kids if they caught him transforming back to a regular guy again. He immediately felt better dressed like himself and headed out the door. He drove straight to Vince’s house. At least that humiliating Captain Huddle experience was over. He’d put the whole thing behind him and pretend it never happened.

  As soon as Vince opened the door, Jared handed over the costume bag.

  Vince stepped back, out of reach, and the bag hit the floor. “Nope. Until we get to the second trimester, it’s all you. She’s gonna starve little Vince if I don’t keep an eye on her.”

  “It’s Isabella!” Sophia hollered from somewhere inside.

  Vince jerked a thumb behind him. “You see what I’m dealing with here.” He rolled his eyes and then hollered over his shoulder. “
We don’t know that until the twenty-week ultrasound!” He turned back to Jared. “I know more than her on account of my godfather preparation.” He hollered over his shoulder again. “Read the book, Soph! Then you can speak to me with knowledge.” He added under his breath, “Not ignorance.”

  Jared ground his teeth. “How long are we talking?”

  Vince shrugged. “Best-case scenario? Six, seven more weeks.”

  “Seven more weeks!”

  “What’s the big deal? The kids scare you off so fast?” He tossed the costume bag, and Jared caught it in the chest with one hand. “Don’t be a wuss. You’re a fucking doctor.”

  Jared squared his shoulders. “I know I’m a fucking doctor. Dressing like a porcupine isn’t in the job description.”

  “Well, it should be.” Vince glanced over his shoulder and then turned back to him. “I’m gonna get her some saltines and ginger ale. You got this, okay? You’re my clutch player.”

  The nickname that normally felt like a compliment felt like a damn straitjacket now. It wasn’t just the humiliating costume. It was the helpless feeling of not being able to fix the kids. He always fixed his patients.

  “Vince, the kids—”

  Vince shut the door in his face.

  “Like you better,” Jared grumbled to the door. Dammit. He turned back to his truck, mumbling about aggravating brothers and no-fun brunettes with sexy bods the whole way home.

  Chapter Two

  Emily returned to her quiet one-bedroom apartment in Clover Park that afternoon and quickly changed into a sweater and jeans. She flopped down on the sofa, stretching out with a purple knitted blanket and her favorite romance author’s newest release. You’d think I’d be completely turned off by romance. But with her job, she needed the sweet escape.

  Her cell vibrated on the nearby end table, and she snatched it up. Shit. A text from Michael. Her ex-husband hadn’t called, texted, or emailed in two years. We need to talk.

  Ha! She immediately texted back. No, we don’t.

  It’s important.

  She put the cell down. Forget it. They had nothing to talk about. The papers, news stations, and gossip mags had taken care of all that. What more was there to say? Michael was a rat. She was the idiot who—

  Her cell rang. She picked it up. “How did you get my number?”

  “I keep tabs on you,” Michael responded smoothly.

  She hung up. Then she powered the phone down.

  There was a knock at the door. No. It couldn’t be.

  She peeked through the peephole. She let out a stream of curses and wished she had a baseball bat handy. Not because she feared Michael would hurt her. Because she wanted to clobber him.

  He knocked again. She sighed. He was standing there holding a bouquet of red roses. They weren’t her favorite. She was partial to tulips, but Michael always apologized with red roses. There’d been a lot of red roses in her past.

  “Go away,” she called through the door.

  “Emily, it’s important. I drove an hour just to see you.” She’d moved an hour south for a fresh start, away from him and everyone who knew her.

  She rolled her eyes. “No one told you to come over. How did you know where I lived?”

  “The Internet makes it easy to find someone.”

  That was probably true. She’d returned to her maiden name, but Michael knew it.

  “Please just hear me out. I really need to talk to you.”

  She sighed. “Just a minute.” He wouldn’t go away. That much she knew. She shoved her feet into sneakers and stepped out into the upstairs hallway, which was open to the outdoors, shutting the door behind her. “Make it quick.”

  He offered her the roses, and she crossed her arms, refusing to accept them. He looked the same—dark brown hair cropped short, sharp brown eyes, high cheekbones, a strong jaw. He’d modeled a bit in college. His looks played well in the press. Even now, on a Saturday, he’d dressed as if he might be caught on camera with a crisp light blue pin-striped button-down shirt, navy blue pants, and designer light brown dress shoes.

  “I still love you,” he said in a voice meant to sound earnest, but it came off insincere to her ears. She wasn’t fooled for one minute. He wanted something.

  “I don’t love you back. Is that all?”

  He paced for a moment and stopped. “We had it good. In the beginning. Nothing could stop us.”

  She merely gave him a look that said so? She’d been twenty-five to Michael’s sophisticated thirty when she’d met him at one of her parents’ pool parties, the kind where the country club set stood around the pool, sipping white wine in their summer whites, and no one ever took a swim. He was new in town, and her parents were thrilled to introduce her to the wealthy lawyer with political aspirations. Her romantic heart had been taken in by his charm and dashing good looks, as well as the over-the-top courtship full of flowers, jewelry, and extravagant dinners. In hindsight, it was clear he’d been on the hunt for a wife for political reasons, as just another component of his campaign for state attorney general. After a whirlwind three-month romance and a fairy-tale wedding, they had one good year of marriage followed by two years of Michael cheating and apologizing.

  At first she’d been slow on the uptake. Just some suspicions. When she’d told him her concerns, he made her feel like she was crazy for even thinking them. But then she had proof: another woman named Emily texting him with sexy invitations. What followed still made her shudder. She’d gone down that depressing path too many times to let herself fall headlong into the spiral of shame.

  Michael raised his palms. “With you I won the state attorney general office. Voters loved us together.”

  “And then they didn’t.”

  Michael stepped closer, his voice dripping sincerity. “I’m running for public office again. State senator, a stepping-stone to the national level. The campaign starts next week right after election day. We’ve already got a campaign committee. We’re getting ready to announce my intention and build from there.”

  “So what do you need me for?”

  “A public reconciliation—”

  “No.” She turned to go, and he grabbed her by the elbow. “Hands off!” she shouted. He dropped his hand. She took a deep breath and turned back to him. “I will never ever go back to you.”

  “It would be different this time. I’d be faithful. We could have the children you always wanted. With you by my side, it will restore your name in the public eye. They won’t associate you with that—” at her narrowed eyes, he finished lamely “—other news story.”

  She hated the way her name had been dragged through the mud as if she was as dirty as he was. Hated all the cameras, the microphones shoved in her face, the news vans camped out in front of their house. She closed her eyes as the shame and humiliation washed over her again.

  “If you forgive me,” Michael said earnestly, “the voters will forgive me. And we’ll both benefit.”

  She hadn’t forgiven him. She didn’t think she ever would. He hadn’t just cheated, hadn’t just lied to her face over and over, he’d betrayed her in the most humiliating, public way possible.

  “Don’t contact me again,” she said firmly. “I don’t forgive you, and I never will.”

  With that, she turned, went inside her apartment, and locked the door behind her. She didn’t hear him walking away. Needing even more space, she retreated to her bedroom and locked that door too. She flopped on the queen-size brass bed, rolled over, and stared at the ceiling, her eyes surprisingly dry. Guess I’m all out of tears for Michael.

  But then she thought about the children she’d always wanted, and her eyes filled. Because, at thirty, being married again with a child of her own seemed impossibly out of reach. She never met the right kind of man. The kind with eyes (and heart) only for her. Maybe he didn’t exist. Maybe she was clinging to a romantic fantasy.

  She threw an arm over her stinging eyes. She had children, in a way. Sick children who needed her. And, thoug
h it hurt her heart when she lost one of them, it only strengthened her resolve to pour everything she had into keeping the others comfortable and alive. That was what gave meaning to her life.

  Her very safe life focused on work, cooking, and reading.

  Dammit. What happened to the old Emily? The one who was happy and open to new experiences, new relationships. She used to be more fun loving, loved meeting new people. Hell, she’d backpacked all over Europe after college having tons of adventures like bike riding through Provence and hitchhiking through Italy. She’d made pilgrimages to theme parks all over the country on a quest to ride every wooden roller coaster.

  She leaped out of bed. Stupid Michael screwing with her head. Fuck him. It was time to start living again. She grabbed her cell and her purse and headed out the door. Thankfully Michael had left. She was going to hang out at Garner’s Sports Bar & Grill. A nice drink surrounded by people would prove she was still open to new experiences. Maybe—with her friends Charlotte and Megan at her side—she’d even flirt with a handsome stranger. She called her friends. Neither of them were home but promised to meet up with her at five. That gave her a good three hours to kill. She’d walk to Main Street, a thirty-minute walk, and then hang out in the shops.

  She headed to Book It, browsing all the new releases and then settling in the attached Something’s Brewing Café, treating herself to a cappuccino while she people watched in the crowded space. Mostly people working on their laptops and a few couples. Finally, it was nearly five, so she headed across the street to Garner’s. She took a seat at the very end of the crowded dark cherrywood bar and texted Charlotte and Megan, letting them know where she was sitting. The dining area to the right was filling up already for dinner.

  The bartender, Josh, arrived. He was thirtyish with dark brown hair that curled a bit; his brown eyes were warm, his smile infectious. She beamed at him, appreciating the fact that he was always friendly and flirty, yet never crossed the line into uncomfortable pickup territory. His cheerful demeanor earned him lots of tips, especially from the women. She ordered herself a Cosmopolitan because it sounded like she was about to take a fun, exotic trip.