“That’ll do, young man,” Kathleen says in a deep voice. She grips the handles of the wheelchair.Where on earth did she just spring from so ninja-like?
“That’s exactly right,” he says in a gruff voice. “Iama young man. Doing what a man of twenty-six should do. Kissin’ pretty girls.” He looks my way and winks.
Cue: raging blush.
“Miss Rhynehart, if you wouldn’t mind returning to your desk, I’ll handle Mr Marshall.”
And just like that, I’ve gone from being called Jane to something more formal.I’m in trouble.
“And next time, take a walkie-talkie with you,” she barks.
I stare down at my feet. “Of course, Mrs Peters.”Don’t muck this up.
When my eyes connect with young Mr Marshall’s, I give him a soft smile. With my tail between my legs, I return to reception and slump in my chair. Defeat washes over me. I’ve failed my first test.Managing the residents.
“It’s not her fault,” I hear in the distance. “As if I could resist those cherry lips.”
***
Kathleen accompanies Sam through the secure doors towards the exit. She has a hushed discussion with the sheriff. I try to eavesdrop on their conversation but fail.Goddamn security glass. I shuffle paperwork and try to subtly spy on the gathering. There’s obviously something wrong with Sam’s legs, and his arms, maybe? What on earth happened to him?
Mind your own business, Jane. You got in trouble for getting your nose in people’s business at the medical centre. As intriguing as young Sam is, you need to be professional.
A few moments later, my boss returns behind the secure doors. The two young men move closer to the sensor, sending the automatic doors open.
Sam is wheeled out the door, singing about kissing a girl and liking it. His voice is like honey, but a touch hoarse; his tone is different to anything I’ve heard.
He winks one baby blue at me. I bite my lip and try to shift my focus to my fingers paused on the keyboard.
“Haven’t heard you sing in a while,” the sheriff says.
“Brother, I haven’t had a reason to,” a distant voice replies. The doors swoosh shut.
And here I thought things at the nursing home would be routine. Nothing out of the ordinary.
I’ve lived in Willow Creek all my life, so why am I onlynowmeeting the Marshall brothers?