before Victoria appeared in the doorway, out of breath. “Hi, Lindsay.”
“Hey, Vic,” Lindsay mumbled, fighting a sense of irritation at the sight of Rachel’s partner in the inn. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Victoria. The opposite was true—she admired and respected the woman who’d left Brookhollow years before to pursue a career in New York City. Lindsay just wished she’d stayed there instead of returning to marry Luke Dawson. A man Lindsay had always had feelings for. Unreciprocated feelings, but still...
“I wanted to say good-night. I’m heading out. The front entrance is locked and no other guests are scheduled to check in tonight.”
“Okay, as soon as I put the girls to bed, I’ll go down and get the tables set for tomorrow’s breakfast,” Rachel said.
“It’s done.”
“Wow, I don’t know how you’re not dead on your feet. When I was pregnant, I got exhausted walking to the bathroom.” Rachel slid Abigail’s tiny arms into the one-piece pajamas covered in dinosaurs.
Her frugal sister-in-law reused as much of her older children’s clothes on the smaller ones as she could. Nathan’s company had picked up in the past year, but Lindsay knew that being self-employed often gave the couple concern, especially with the possibility of five college tuitions to pay for someday.
“Ah, staying busy helps to keep my mind off things.” Victoria shrugged, but Lindsay noticed the dark circles under the blonde’s tired eyes.
The nurse in her took over.
“Keeping busy is fine, but you really should start taking it easier in these last few weeks. You’re going to need your strength for the delivery,” she said bluntly. Victoria’s blood pressure had been high at her appointment the month before. She was afraid the high-strung workaholic was overdoing it.
Besides running the B and B, the woman was still volunteering on the New Jersey Tourism Board, against her doctor’s recommendations. And Lindsay knew the mom-to-be was putting the baby’s nursery together, instead of waiting for Luke.
“See? Nurse’s orders to take it easy,” Rachel said, zipping Mackenzie’s fire-truck-printed one-piece.
Victoria held her hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay. I promise to slow down.” She kissed both little girls before turning with a wave and wobbling back down the stairs.
When she was out of earshot, Rachel whispered, “I’m worried about her.” Her sister-in-law hesitated. “She made me promise not to say anything...”
Lindsay crossed her heart. “Look, I know I’m the source of most of the gossip in town, but I’ll consider this patient confidentiality. What is it?”
“She passed out in the kitchen yesterday.” Setting Mackenzie in the crib, Rachel pulled the fleece blanket over her and kissed her cheek.
“Had she eaten anything?”
“Yeah, we’d just finished lunch.”
That was worrisome. “Okay, thanks for letting me know.” Victoria certainly wouldn’t have. “I’ll make a note on her file to check her blood sugar on next week’s visit.”
“Thanks, Lindsay.” Rachel looked relieved as she turned off the bedroom light and softly closed the door behind them. “With Luke out of town a lot, I worry about her.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” she said with a sigh.
When she’d bought the house next door to Luke almost two years before, she’d hoped their “new neighbor” status would bring them closer together, but then Victoria had moved back to Brookhollow.
Living next door to the couple was tough.
Over the past few months Lindsay had contemplated selling her home and moving closer to the medical clinic. Especially now that there would be a family in the house next door.
Maybe being in a less “family friendly” neighborhood might make her single status easier to live with.
* * *
NOAH PACED THE GYM, listening to the side of the phone conversation he could hear, as his trainer spoke to the New Jersey athletic commissioner. With the number of uh-huh...okay’s and I understand’s from Brandon, it was impossible to determine whether the MMA fight next month in Newark would be sanctioned or not.
He needed this fight.
With his record 6-0 since he’d started fighting the year before, under the guidance of Brandon Sheppard and his brother, who owned the local MMA club, he only needed another knockout to be considered for the UFC—the biggest MMA organization in the world.
Not to mention, he hadn’t had a payday in six weeks, since his last fight in LA, and the money in his bank account was dwindling. His volunteer role at the local fire station had yet to turn into a paid position, which he’d hoped for when he moved to Brookhollow from Beach Haven the year before.
He was starting to wonder if he’d ever achieve his dream of fighting in the Ultimate Fighting Championship.
He tried to push his strained finances from his mind as he waited for the verdict on his upcoming fight.
“Okay, thank you, sir,” Brandon said as he disconnected the call.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Am I fighting next month?” His eyes wide, his hands clenched in fists at his sides, Noah waited.
“Yeah, you’re fighting next month.”
Yes!
He’d watched countless YouTube videos of his opponent’s previous bouts and the Bronx native was nothing he couldn’t handle. He and Brandon had identified holes in Romeo Rodriguez’s ground game as well as a weak right hook. Noah was prepared to dominate the fight by playing into the weak spots.
Brandon opened his desk drawer and pulled out the medical clearance form, giving it to him. “Once you get the results from your MRI, have Dr. McCarthy sign this. You may need additional blood work—she’ll let you know.”
Noah winced. It wasn’t the needle so much as the idea of blood leaving his body that made him woozy. Ironic, given his choice of career.
The only plus side to more tests was having a valid excuse to see Lindsay Harper again. He’d been flirting with her for months and thought he’d made headway with her at Bailey and Ethan’s wedding. But she’d ignored his every attempt to see her since.
“Speaking of the MRI, how many have we sent you for this year?”
Noah shrugged. He’d known this was going to come up at some point. “Three.”
Brandon leaned against the counter, the fabric of his old, ratty Extreme Athletics T-shirt straining at his waist. The coach hadn’t fought in years and had relaxed his own training in recent months. “Look, most guys aren’t fighting so often. After this fight, I need you to take a longer break, okay?”
He
