Page 55 of Betting on the Bad Boy

She gave me the puppy dog eyes. I couldn’t deny her when she pulled out all the stops like that.

“Fine. But there better be an open bar.”

Clem laughed. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

As we made our way out into the California sun, I held tight to my mother’s arm. It was good to be home.

“You did tell her about Carter though, right Claire?” Clem asked.

I turned on my mom. “Carter? Who’s Carter?”

Her hand fluttered to her chest. “Didn’t I mention him, dear? I’m sure I meant to.”

“Yeah, right.” I’d been subjected to my mom’s failed attempts at matchmaking before. “Who’s Carter?”

“Just your plus one for the night, dear.” We’d reached Clem’s black Cadillac, and before I could come up with a killer reply, my mom climbed into the front seat and closed the door.

My plus one? Great, just great. A surprise black tie function and an unwanted blind date. Just the kind of evening I had in mind for my first night of winter break. What could possibly go wrong?

Dante

I careenedinto the Hinkley Memorial Hospital parking lot. I’d been on my way to Meemaw’s when I got the call. What was the old bird thinking, trying to hang Christmas ornaments from the ceiling of the senior center? She’d fallen off a ladder and hit her head pretty hard on the corner of a table on her way down. The nurse on the phone said she’d passed out but was in stable condition, and I should try to get there as soon as possible.

I bolted through the revolving door and right to the information counter. “I’m looking for Dolores Bishop,” I said to the woman behind the desk.

“You must be her grandson.”

I nodded and pointed to the computer, frustrated that she didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry.

She smiled at me and typed a few things on the keyboard. “She’s still in the ER. Right down the hall and to the?—”

I didn’t wait around for directions. I took off down the long hall toward the ER. I’d been there often enough over the years to know my way around. A broken arm in fourth grade, a dirt bike wreck in seventh, jumping off the roof of the high school and earning a concussion in tenth... yeah, I knew how to find the ER.

I rounded the corner and came to a dead stop in front of the nurse’s station. What the hell wasshedoing here?

The nurse on duty looked up with big brown eyes. “Dante?”

I hadn’t seen her in years. Unless I counted the number of times I’d used her senior picture for target practice. The sight of her here in the flesh turned my blood thick and cold like the frozen pomegranate daiquiris I’d made popular at the bar. “Hey, Cheryl. So, you work here now?”

One hand fluttered up to her hair. Her lips spread in a nervous smile. “Yeah, I’ve been here since May.”

No one told me she was back in town. Would it have mattered? “Where’s my grandmother?” My heart pounded. If anything bad happened to Meemaw, well, I didn’t even want to think about it.

“Oh sorry, let me show you where she is.” Cheryl walked out from behind the tall counter and linked her arm through mine. “I’ll take you to her. She had a pretty bad fall.”

I came to an abrupt stop and yanked my arm away. “Why won’t anyone tell me what’s going on?”

“Come on, she’s just right over here.” Cheryl tugged on my arm, and I let her lead me to a small cubby. The curtain was drawn, and she eased it open, just enough for us to step inside.

The big hospital bed dwarfed Meemaw. Tubes stuck out of her mouth and arm. A giant white bandage covered half herhead and the right side of her face had already turned ten shades of purple. An arsenal of machines whirred, buzzed, and beeped around her.

I covered my eyes, not wanting Cheryl to see me lose it. Dammit, I wasn’t going to cry. “What happened? Why isn’t she awake yet?”

“I’ll have the doctor come in and talk to you.” Cheryl stepped through the curtain and slid it closed.

I moved closer to the bed and carefully put my hand on Meemaw’s. Thank god, she was warm. I’d expected her hand to be ice cold.

“Damn you, old woman. What have you done to yourself now?” I asked, willing her to open her eyes and chastise me for cursing.