move. He gets out of line, ol’ Sarah will box his ears.”
Molly slowly pulled up her blouse and he examined her side. “Any pain when I do this?” He pressed in with two fingers.
“No more than a bad bruise.” Her contusions were bright red and would soon color to deep bruises. He lowered her top. “Now for your foot.” After squatting in front of her, he examined with sure fingers the leg she’d hurt when she’d fallen. Her calf was muscular, but nicely rounded. The kind that would feel good wrapped around his hips, which probably wasn’t the best visual to have while she was hurting. Few women got to him like that without trying. “Any pain?”
“No. So far so good.”
Yeah, my freakin’ thoughts exactly. Christ she had some pretty, shapely legs. Curvy. So curvy he’d probably dream about them tonight. “I’m going to remove your sandal so I can see if your ankle’s broken or sprained.” He carefully slipped it off.
She winced and nearly scooted backward in the booth when his fingers tested the ligaments leading to and holding her ankle joint. “Ouch! That’s a tender spot.”
“Sorry. I’m thinking it’s a bad sprain, which will require RICE, that’s rest, ice, compression and elevation.” He slung an arm over his thigh. “And I’d say your big toe is broken. I can take you to the ER for x-rays or an MRI, if you like, but there’s nothing they can do for a broken toe. It’ll swell, bruise and hurt like hell for a week.”
Tears pooled in her eyes. “Great! How am I going to work? Do you think I could wear flip-flops?”
“You’ll be lucky to walk with crutches. Besides, this foot needs elevation for a couple days at least.” He peeled the cellophane off a rolled ace bandage and began wrapping her foot. “You know, most people come here to relax, enjoy the white sands of our beaches and absorb the sun.”
“Yeah, well.” She covered her eyes with her fingertips. “Life hasn’t exactly been simple lately. Not one thing has gone right since November twelfth.”
“Why November twelfth?” The jut of her chin and the tears pooling in her eyes all but shouted she had no freakin’ plan to answer that question. He activated another ice pack and taped it to her ankle and foot. “Scoot over and rest your heel on my seat to elevate it while we have our pie and drinks. He pulled out a pack of aspirin. “Need something for the pain, Sugar?”
She opened her hand for the pills while she pierced him with tear-filled eyes. “Don’t call me Sugar.” She palmed the aspirins into her mouth and washed them down.
“Is that what that abusive son of a bitch called you?” His stomach had cramped with temper, banked since childhood yet permanently on simmer beneath the surface to protect anyone bullied or pushed around.
She shook her head. “No, but it implies that we have a connection, which we don’t.”
“Has this jerk, your ex-fiancé, always been abusive?”
“No. Never. Wade’s abuse back in Breckenridge—that’s in Colorado—came as a complete shock. Of course, so did his cheating on me. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect him to come here, although I thought I saw his dark blue SUV cruising on Gulf Boulevard. The faded paint on the hood makes it distinctive. That and the gun rack.
“My parents and I have come to this section of Indian Rocks Beach every February for my entire life, so Wade knew where I’d be. I just never expected him to follow me. Guess it was a good thing the little bungalows we always rented were closed, after all. At least he doesn’t know where we’re staying.” She sighed and stirred her tea. “We have a rental car I got at the airport. Thank goodness he doesn’t know what it looks like.”
“Why did the goon ask for your car keys?”
“Did he? I was so scared, I don’t remember.” Her forehead crinkled. “Once he attacked me, I went into fright mode. Wait. I did yell for you to help me, didn’t I?”
He slid his hand across the table until their fingertips touched. He’d have taken her hand in his but sensed, at this moment, she wasn’t ready for that much personal contact. “Yes, you did. You must have seen me running toward you two, yelling for him to stop.”
Had Wade demanded the keys to her car at home or for her rental? None of it made any sense. “If you have a vehicle, why did you walk to work?”
“To save on gas money and listen to the waves kissing the shoreline. I took ten minutes to walk out on the beach. Slipped off my shoes to bury my toes in the sand for a spell to watch the sun start to set and witness the oranges and purples. Sunsets here are phenomenal, aren’t they?” There was such sadness in her voice.
“Beyond that, Molly. Way beyond that. I don’t think anyone could get me to leave here.”
A squad car pulled into the parking area in front of the diner, drawing his attention from their conversation. Officer George Pauley eased from behind the steering wheel and ambled toward the door. Since his wife had passed away a few years ago, the policeman had put on a lot of weight. Barclay stood so the officer could sit. “George, ol’ buddy, how’s life treating you?”
“Got the gout,” he puffed on a wheeze. “My feet hurt like a sumbitch.” He squeezed into the booth across from Molly and tugged his notebook out of his pocket. “Sarah, darlin’, get me a piece of pie and a sweet tea.”
“I’ll get you a salad and a glass of water.”
Barclay shot Molly a smirk at Sarah’s retort as he sat on his plastic first aid box. Molly rolled her eyes in response. And something inside him shifted. Not that he was looking for a relationship, but if she was only going to be here a few weeks, what could it hurt to enjoy some female companionship?
“Damn bossy woman,” George mumbled in Sarah’s direction and began his questioning of the incident. When he was through, he jammed his book back into his shirt pocket. “Can you come down to the station tomorrow to sign a complaint? A man grabbing a woman on our streets don’t sit well with me. This is a fairly safe community.”
“Since it looks like I won’t be able to work, sure. I could come by in the morning.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see the paperwork’s ready.” He huffed and puffed as he maneuvered his girth from the booth. “Barclay, how soon you gonna have those cabins open for business? I saw the new sign you put up, changing the name to Grey’s Cottages. Sounds classier than Verne’s Cabins. Putting a new grey roof on each one was a nice touch. You gonna paint all the cabins the same color or keep the multi-colored tradition?”
Barclay’s gaze slid to hers and he winced at her narrowed eyes. “I’ve got one just about ready to rent out. Still need to paint it, inside and out. I’ll paint them a fresher version of their original colors. I’m working on renovating the second one now. I redid mine first so the dogs and I could move in. It feels good staying there again.”
George clasped his shoulder. “I’m glad your uncle willed you those places. Verne knew how you loved staying there with him as a kid. Having those old style cottages keeps up the charm of the town. We’ve got too many condos, you ask me.” He touched two fingers to his cap. “See you tomorrow, Miss Devon.”
“If I’m able to walk there, yes.”
“I’ll
