My Funny Valentine (Pajaro Bay Series Book 4) (4 page)

He leaned toward her. "So you spent a week thinking about me after our date?"

She could feel her face turning red. "Um, well, I guess I did."

"That's interesting," he said softly. "So, are you sure I don't have a fever?" He kissed her gently on the lips. When he finished, he grinned. "That's what
I
thought about for a week after our date."

She came around the exam table to stand in front of him. "You still might have a fever. I'm not sure I got an accurate temperature reading. Let's check again."

I
t was
a good fifteen minutes later, after their second kiss had been interrupted by little Strudel's unfortunate stomach yet again.

"Will she be okay?" he asked as he helped mop up the mess.

"Sure," Cassidy said. "In fact, I imagine she already feels a whole lot better now that all the milk is out of her system. But in the future—"

"—No milk. Got it. Dogs can be lactose intolerant."

"Exactly." She held the pup under one arm while expertly wiping her little face with a clean cloth. "She'll be just fine now. No fever—for either of you."

He glanced at her at that comment, and noticed she was grinning.

"We could keep checking on my fever just to be sure...," he said.

"After we get her settled," Cassidy said, still smiling.

He finished the clean-up and went to wash his hands in the restroom.

When he came back, she put her arms around him, but he gently pushed her away to look into her eyes.

"Well, it's nice to know I'm so resistible," she said.

"Oh, you're pretty hard to resist. But I've been thinking about this whole thing."

"What whole thing?"

"The dog. Mrs. Anderson falling and breaking her leg. Trip hitting you. It's all a bit too pat."

"What do you mean?" She leaned against the exam table and stared at him.

"Maybe I've underestimated him."

"Underestimated Trip? That's hard to do."

"Hey, you're the one who went out with him."

"What can I say? He's handsome. I'm only human."

"Yeah. I've noticed." He put an arm around her. "But what if he's not quite as stupid as he seems? Maybe it's the lawyer in me. I have a suspicious mind. But that restraining order against you—that's not normal. Why would he do that?"

She frowned. "Because he's a jerk."

He smiled. "You're not going to get an argument from me. But he wanted you out of the way all of a sudden. And then coincidentally Mrs. Anderson falls down the stairs…."

"Yeah," Cassidy said. "I wish I could visit her. Just to make sure she's okay. An accident like that can lead to a downward spiral for someone her age."

"An accident?" he said quietly. "She lives in a one-story house. What stairs did she fall down?"

Cassidy's eyes widened. "I get where you're going. All his crude jokes about his inheritance."

"Yeah. Maybe he wasn't joking. Maybe that's what he's been thinking all along. She was showing her age until you brought her Strudel. Then she got a new lease on life and really perked up."

"—And he saw a quick inheritance slipping away."

"Exactly." He looked down for a moment. "She's all alone there. And maybe she's not as brave about reporting him to the police as you were."

"I wasn't brave. I was spitting mad."

"Good for you. Have you got the restraining order with you?"

"Sure." She got it out of her purse and he read it.

"Aha!"

"What?"

"I love loopholes. The restraining order prevents you from contacting Mrs. Anderson at her residence."

"She's not at her residence."

"No. She isn't. And I imagine she misses her dog a whole lot right now...."

I
t was almost midnight
, and the nursing home was quiet, except for the sound of the oxygen machine from the neighbor's room down the hall.

Mrs. Anderson lay on her bed, very quiet, concentrating on the ticking of the bedside clock. It seemed very loud, almost as loud as the nervous beating of her own heart. She moved slightly, putting her hands under the covers, and the metal bed frame rattled slightly. The pale, fluorescent light that spilled in through the open door to the hall barely penetrated the semi-darkness.

Her hands pulled the thin blankets up close to her chin. The window curtains moved slightly, and there was a dark shadow behind the door that seemed very far away. She felt very small and vulnerable all alone in the little bed in the darkness.

When she heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall toward her room she forced herself to stay perfectly still, just clutching the blankets close to her, and holding her breath. She could feel her breath catch in her throat, but she tried to be brave.

The light from the hall washed over the bed, illuminating the muscular silhouette of her nephew.

Trip came right up to the edge of the bed and leaned over her.

"You got a lot of nerve calling me up and threatening to turn me in. What do you think you're gonna pull?" Trip's whisper was as brutal as a shout, and Josie fought to keep herself still and not react. "If you don't want something to happen to that little dog, you'd better shut your mouth."

"You're going to jail, young man, and there's nothing you can do to stop it!" She said out loud.

"Quiet! You'll wake everyone up." He raised his hand as if he would slap her.

"Don't you dare try it," Clint said, stepping out from his spot behind the door. He flicked the lights on, and Trip was caught, his arm raised toward his aunt.

"You?!" Trip wasn't whispering now. He straightened up and laughed. "You think you can do anything about it, Ham-Boy?"

Josie grinned up at Trip. "Oh, he's already done it!" She pushed back the covers and showed little Strudel, curled up beside her on the bed.

"That's what you think!" Trip said. He turned away from the bed and took a step toward Clint. "You'll be no harder to knock down than the old woman. I broke her in two, and I can do the same to you, Ham-Boy!"

Cassidy and Sheriff's Captain Ryan Knight came out from behind the curtain.

Clint turned to them. "That's textbook self-incrimination."

"Yup," Captain Ryan said. He pulled out his handcuffs. "Now don't make this any worse than it already is, son."

"You can't do that!" Trip said desperately. "You didn't read me my rights or nothin'!"

He turned toward the door as if to leave, but Clint shut it and then stood in front of it, arms crossed.

"Technically," Clint said mildly, "it's an excited utterance in front of four witnesses, which is an exception to the hearsay rule."

"What does that mean?" Trip asked.

"It means you're cooked."

Trip stood there a moment, between Captain Ryan and Clint, then put his hands up. "I didn't do nothin'," he said sullenly. He stood still while Ryan put the cuffs on him and read him his rights.

Then he seemed to notice Cassidy for the first time. "This is all your fault!"

"My fault?" she asked.

"Of course," Clint said. "You gave her Strudel."

"She was on her way out until you came along and ruined everything," Trip muttered, sullen.

"Yeah," Clint said mildly. "What a terrible thing you did, giving Mrs. Anderson a new lease on life. Unforgivable."

"Wow," Cassidy said. She went over and put her hand on Mrs. Anderson's shoulder. "I knew you were a jerk, Trip, but even for you, that's horrible."

She leaned down to Mrs. Anderson. "This is so awful. Are you all right?"

The older lady smiled. "Awful? I haven't felt this good in years." She cuddled Strudel to her. "You saved my life twice, young lady. First with my Strudel, who gave me a reason to keep going." She bent her head down as if to hide tears. "And tonight, you two set me free." She looked over at Trip. "I'm changing my will. Everything I own is going to animal rescue. So there!"

"But I'm your only relative!"

Mrs. Anderson smiled. "An accident of birth. If your mother were still around, she'd be ashamed."

Trip looked like he was going to start yelling again, so Cassidy glared at him. "You've said enough, Trip. Face it: you blew it."

"Hey!" Trip said. "I got a restraining order on you, Cassidy. You can't be here! You can't talk to her!"

"You should have hired a better lawyer, Surf-Boy," Clint said. "He missed a loophole."

Trip looked at Clint. "You're a lawyer, right?"

"He's chief junior counsel for Cordova Computing," Mrs. Anderson said triumphantly. "Much better husband material for Dr. Trujillo than some violent felon could ever be."

"I ain't no felon," Trip said.

"Actually," Clint said. "You're about to be. You knocked down your aunt, and you hit Cassidy. And they're now both quite willing to testify against you. This would be a good time to hire an attorney. You're going to need one."

"How much do you charge?"

"More than you can afford," Clint said coldly.

"But I'm gonna need a lawyer. I'm being framed by these broads. You gotta defend me."

"You've got to be kidding me, Trip."

"I'm serious, man. You can't believe anything these broads say."

"Stop calling them broads," Clint said. "It's rude."

"What're you gonna do about it, Ham-Boy?"

"That does it." Clint took a deep breath, then hauled off and slugged Trip in the stomach.

Trip doubled over with a satisfying grunt.

"Ouch!" Clint said, wringing his hand.

"Clint! Are you okay?" Cassidy asked. She took his hand and looked at it. "You could have broken a bone." She wiggled his fingers to check, and then held onto his hand and smiled at him.

"I'm fine," he said. "Really. It just stings. I've been wanting to do that ever since I met him. But it hurt more than I expected. I've never punched anybody before."

"Good," Cassidy said. She stood on tiptoes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Just the type of man I'm looking for."

"I'll sue!" Trip yelled once he got his breath back.

Cassidy glared at him. "You're going to need a lawyer to do that, Surf-Boy."

Trip turned to Captain Ryan. "You saw him hit me!"

"I didn't see that," Captain Ryan said blandly. "I was busy thinking about all the paperwork I'm going to have to fill out for the assaults on Ms. Anderson and Ms. Trujillo, and that other charge for the dog's injuries."

"CPC Section 597, maliciously and intentionally wounding a living animal," Clint offered helpfully.

"Right. That one."

"Carries a penalty of imprisonment for up to a year, and a fine of up to $20,000."

"I appreciate all your help with this, Clint. Let me make a note of that." Captain Ryan pulled out his notebook and wrote something.

"Now wait a minute!" Trip said, beginning to sound panicky. "You can't make me pay for that mutt!"

"Actually," Clint said, "the district attorney probably won't bother with that charge, since Surf-Boy's already facing so many felonies without trying to prove intent to harm the dog."

The captain nodded. "Well, we'll make a note of it just in case we need it."

Trip had begun sputtering. "But he hit me! Aren't you going to take my complaint? I want to file a complaint!"

"Do you have a witness to this alleged hitting?" the captain asked.

"But he hit me!"

"Maybe you ran into a door," Clint offered helpfully. "Or fell down the stairs. That seems to be happening a lot recently."

Cassidy grinned at him. "Rakish. Definitely rakish."

C
aptain Ryan had hauled away
the protesting Trip. The nursing home residents and staff had quieted down after all the uproar. Now Mrs. Anderson sat up in her bed, her wrinkled hand resting on Strudel's back as the little dog slept peacefully on her lap. She looked like a different person than she had when they'd arrived at the nursing home. Her face had relaxed, and her color looked better. Not being afraid will do that to a person.

"Do you know you are wearing two different colored socks, young man?" she said.

"Yup," Clint said. "It's part of my rakish charm."

Cassidy said, "we need to let you rest. We'll stop by again tomorrow to see how things are going." She bent over the bed and gave Mrs. Anderson a kiss on the cheek. "I know the caregiver said you can keep Strudel overnight, but can you handle her by yourself until we come see you in the morning?"

"Of course. The doctor said I am supposed to walk to the wall and back three times a day. So I can take her out to do her business for my physical therapy."

Cassidy glanced at Clint.

"Good," he said. "You need to get on your feet as soon as possible. I need you back next door to tell me all the latest gossip."

The old woman was talking again, in a voice that already seemed much stronger. "I wish I had some way to thank you two. I'm really sorry I ruined your Valentine's Day."

Clint shook his head. "I wouldn't trade this day for anything. It's the best Valentine's Day I think I've ever had."

Cassidy put her arm around him. "The best so far."

"Yeah." He looked into those beautiful brown eyes. "We're only getting started."

N
ote
: within the United States, you can reach the National Domestic Violence Hotline at
http://www.thehotline.org
. Call 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or 1-800-787-3224 (TTY). They are available 24/7. Outside the U.S.A. you can find resources at:
http://www.hotpeachpages.net
.

T
o learn
all about Hallie Reed Madrigal, who helped Cassidy in
My Funny Valentine
, you can read her story in
Under the Boardwalk
, a Pajaro Bay Novel:

Wounded artist Hallie Reed comes to Pajaro Bay for a summer job at the town's funky old amusement park. But when she wakes up after a mysterious car accident with a gap in her memory, she soon discovers her missing hour is the key to uncovering a secret that could get her killed. Danger, romance, and a new beginning await Hallie during her summer at the beach, and she—and the whole town—will be changed forever by what she finds
Under the Boardwalk
. Now available at
http://geni.us/UnderTheBoardwalk
.