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He raised his head and he winked at her. “Wow. You’re one lucky woman. And something tells me if he plays his cards right, Tyler’s one lucky guy.”

An engine revved, interrupting her reply. Even from her upside-down vantage point in Roger’s arms, she could make out the blur of a motorcycle

racing away.

“Oh, shit.” Roger slowly straightened. “Mr. Lucky just raced off into the night. I think maybe he got the wrong idea. Want me to go after him and explain?”

Shit. Shit. Shit! She tamped down the panic threatening to choke her and shook her head. “No, I need to talk to him about…a lot of things. This is mine to fix.”

“Okay.” He touched her cheek lightly and then stepped away. “Let me know how things turn out. I’m rooting for you.”

“Same goes. I’m rooting for you, too, no matter what you decide to do.”

He smiled and headed out into the warm summer night. Inside the house, Beethoven’s Fifth sounded. With a final wave, she went in and answered the phone.

She didn’t usually get calls in the evening except from her service. The display, however, read “Unknown Number.” As soon as she picked up, a hesitant female voice said, “Dr. Swann?”

“Yes, this is she.”

“Hello, Dr. Swann. My name is Sharon Greene. I’m a friend of your father’s. I’m sorry to ambush you this way, but I need to let you know Lexington Memorial Hospital admitted him this evening after he became ill at our meeting.”

“Oh, God. Is he okay? What’s the diagnosis?” She cursed herself for not calling him yesterday. He probably wouldn’t have picked up, but still, she should have tried.

“I don’t know, Dr. Swann. He gave me your name and number before the paramedics took him away, and asked me to call you. Can you come?”

“I’m on my way.”

Chapter Seventeen

“Don’t try to figure women out, Ty,” Junior advised. “Not even your cute little doc. You’ll just end up with a migraine. Might as well ask me to kick you in the head. At least then you’d know why your head hurt.” Satisfied with this gem of wisdom, Junior tossed back the rest of his beer and then placed the empty bottle on the bar and signaled Earl for another.

Tyler rubbed a hand across his face. He already felt like he’d been kicked in the head. Had felt that way since the moment he’d seen Ellie and Roger in a lip-lock on her front porch. The image still burned in his mind; her, nearly naked and completely irresistible in a scrap of a red dress, and big, blond, muscle-bound Roger not resisting her.

“She’s not my cute little doc. I swung by her place this evening to see if she wanted to take a ride. I thought we’d go somewhere romantic and talk, but when I pulled up Roger was there and they were kissing like he’d just gotten home from war.” Jesus, he sounded like a hysterical schoolgirl. He picked up his beer and took a long drink.

“Roger Reynolds?” Junior’s eyebrows shot up. “Man, he gets around. I kinda thought he didn’t close the deal with Melody because he batted for the other team.”

“Me too, but apparently he switch-hits.”

“Now that’s just greedy.”

“I agree. Know what really pisses me off? He leaves town for ten years, comes back and ditches Melody first thing, and everybody looks at him like some fucking do-no-wrong golden boy. I live here my entire life, spend the better chunk of it trying to run a decent business, do some good where I can, and, sure, have a little fun here and there, and everybody sees me as an irresponsible troublemaker only out for a good time.”

Junior turned to look at him square on. “That’s not true, Ty.”

“Sure it is. Ask anybody.”

Earl Rawley stopped in front of them to deliver a fresh beer to Junior. “Hey Earl,” Junior said. “You think of Tyler as an irresponsible troublemaker?”

Earl frowned and sized him up. “Wouldn’t say so, no. Mighta said different when he was younger, but not since he’s been old enough to set foot in my establishment. He pays his tab in full, tips like a gentleman, holds his liquor fine. Never starts any trouble”—Earl aimed a hard look at Junior, and then shifted his attention back to Tyler—“but he’s quick to step in when stepping-in is called for. I wish I could say the same about all my regulars.” Earl punctuated his statement with another pointed look at Junior before snagging the empty bottle and walking off to serve another customer.

“See? Earl doesn’t think you’re an irresponsible troublemaker.”

“Earl likes me ’cause I settle my bill and don’t break up the place. Not exactly a ringing character endorsement.”

“Okay, fine. We’ll ask someone else. Hey, Red—”

“Christ, cut it out,” Tyler said quickly when Junior called out to Ginny, but Junior ignored him.

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