Page 16 of Hearts to Mend

“Margaret, sweetheart, why is it so hot in here?” I ask while Rooster wraps a blood pressure cuff around her arm, and Drew checks her pupil sizes and reactivity with a penlight.

“ACs broke,” Margaret says, sounding thick-tongued and lethargic.

“How long’s it been broken?” I twist and turn the knobs and dials on the thermostat, checking for reactivity too.

The screen door clatters again, heralding the arrival of EMS. They drag a gurney with them into the tight space.

It’s too many cooks in this very hot kitchen, so I step outside onto the crowded porch, aiming to find the AC condenser and investigate the malfunction. But my forward progress is blocked by a wall of muscle when I walk right into Rico.

It’s like déjà vu all over again. The smell of him, the feel of him, just like that evening, a few nights ago, when he had me in his arms, his hand clutching the back of my head, gently stroking my hair as he enveloped me in his scent, his warmth…

And now, it’s happening again. Thick, strong, corded arms with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows band around my waist as I bounce off his solid chest.

All conversation, all movement, everything on this porch and in the known universe of Krause, Texas, stops to watch as we teeter, awkwardly tangled together. When I don’t fall on my ass, I look up at my savior, staring for one brief, glorious moment into those deep, dark eyes before I shimmy out of his embrace. Murmuring, “Thanks,” I weave through the crowd to escape everyone’s attention.

There is a beat of silence before Rico’s deep voice speaks. But his words aren’t directed at me; he’s speaking to Mildred, the town librarian and a resident here at Stonehaven. “You say she hasn’t had AC for weeks?”

“Well now, let me recollect…” Mildred’s reply is slow in coming, and soon I’m out of earshot, walking around to the back of the building where a bank of air compressors sit in a neat little row on a concrete pad surrounded by weeds.

I find the unit marked B for Margaret’s apartment and focus on that one, popping open the breaker box to make sure nothing tripped or fried. It all appears fine. Squatting, I start pulling weeds, in case any have grown up into the machinery, but that doesn’t seem to be the source of the problem either—

“Hey.”

I jump at the sound of Rico’s voice behind me and lose my balance, pitching forward and hitting my head against the condenser unit. “Jesus!” I come up, whining and scowling and rubbing the sore spot on my forehead. “Warn a girl next time you’re sneaking up on her.”

“What girl? I only see a woman here.” Rico’s smile is wickedly innocent and irritatingly casual, like we don’t share decades of good, bad, and ugly history together. Like I’m just some random woman he’s flirting with.

I scowl at him harder, and the fool has the nerve to chuckle about it.

Seriously? Of all the scenes at all the emergency calls in all the world, why did he have to walk onto mine?

“Why are you here?”

“Press,” Rico says and flashes his Krause Gazette ID badge.

I laugh. “Press? Really? Are you here to talk to Martha Mitchell about Watergate?”

He smirks. God, I hate that damn sexy smirk. “I was in the area and heard your unit called out—”

“Oh Jesus, what, are you stalking me now? You best not be stalking me, Ricardo Ignacio CastroRodriguez, or I will string you up by your scrotum in that tree over there.” I point to a decorative elm for clarity. “Don’t doubt that I will.”

Now Rico really smirks, looking more annoying than sexy as he continues his statement like I didn’t just threaten him with genital torture. “I heard your unit called out to Stonehaven Court, and I followed to see if it’s another case of elder abuse.”

I blink. “Elder abuse?”

“Yes, some of the elderly tenants have complained about the landlord charging them for expensive repairs that he never completes. I’m doing an exposé. Did you know Margaret’s air conditioner hasn’t worked right all summer, and despite daily calls to apartment management, she still sits in a sweltering hot apartment every few days?”

“I—” I look down at the bank of air conditioners, most sitting idle. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

The radio at my waist crackles to life with Watt’s voice. “Dee, we’ve handed over the scene. Heading back.”

I stammer a bit, staring up into Rico’s eyes as I listen to Watt’s words. Rico is like a magician with those eyes, casting some spell to make me useless to the rest of the world, all my focus on him.

With a deep breath, I break the spell, look away, and take a step backward as I answer into my radio, “Copy.” Then I turn and leave.

CHAPTER 8

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