helpless.”
“If you’re grieving, it’s that much harder to comfort her.”
He flicked his hand impatiently. “I’m fine. But I have no experience with children.
None. And it doesn’t come naturally to me.”
“Just give her love and attention. That’s all she needs from you right now. That and
discipline.”
He gave a short laugh. “Oh,
that’s
all.” He took his hand back and ran his hands over his face. “I’ll get her from school,
take her out after. We’ll bring takeout home for dinner, okay?”
“Sure.”
Asher rose with his coffee, refilled it and left the kitchen.
• • •
Maddy was making breakfast an hour later when her cell rang. She glanced at it, annoyed.
Asher. She hadn’t heard him leave, but that was nothing new, this house was so damn
big.
“Maddy? Can you come pick me up, please? Justin’s out of town.”
“Sure. Where are you?”
“Stunt Road.”
“Okay, where on Stunt Road?”
“You can’t miss me.”
“Did you break down?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“I’ll be there in … ”
“About an hour, and Maddy?”
“Yes?”
“Drive carefully.”
By eleven-thirty Maddy was creeping along in her old Honda on the most winding road
she’d ever driven, with hundred foot drops on either side, and only a guardrail between
her and death by ravine. Finally, she saw him. Or at least she saw the lights of the
patrol car.
Standing on the side of the road was Asher, his Aston Martin wrecked and at a significant
rate of speed by the looks of things. A California Highway Patrol vehicle and a tow
truck flanked the damaged automobile. She stared in disbelief out her front windscreen
at the scene. Maddy pulled over, put the car in park and raced over to him.
“Asher!”
“I’m fine, Maddy.”
She searched his face, taut with pain.
“God-damn it, Asher, no you aren’t,” she gritted. “Officer, if you don’t need him
for anything, I’m taking him to the closest hospital to get checked out.”
The officer’s eyebrows arched. “He said he was fine.”
She scowled at the two men.
Asher took in her car. “Maddy, this is what you drive?” He was clearly horrified.
“It’s a deathtrap.”
She pointed to his cherry-red sports car, which had mated with the guardrail. “My
car is a deathtrap?
My car
? Get in, Asher.”
With the help of the CHP officer he seated himself, leaning to close the door with
a wince.
“Where’s the closest hospital?” she asked.
“Don’t need the hospital,” Asher said.
“Want me to call an ambulance?” the officer asked.
“How far is it?” she asked, overriding Asher’s vehement “God no. No ambulance!”
“Twenty minutes.” He pointed east.
“I’ll drive him then,” she said.
Thirty minutes later, they reached the hospital. Thirty minutes of listening to an
irritable Asher lampoon her car. She was starting to regret giving him a ride.
The hospital scene was the height of absurdity. People in the emergency room waiting
room recognized Asher, wanted autographs and tried to chat with him. The ER staff
was no better when they brought him back. Despite his injury he was laughing and joking
and listening to people reminisce about Spade shows.
“Listen … uh … Miss,” she paused to read the name tag of the attractive nurse
who had taken Asher aside and was regaling him with her favorite Spade videos, “can
you check him out? Or find someone who can?”
Maddy wasn’t of the opinion that celebrities should get special treatment — far from
it — but Asher was getting paler by the minute and no one seemed to want to evaluate
him. The nurse left and a white-haired man in a lab coat, who had no idea what the
fuss was about, asked Asher to lie on the table.
Maddy averted her eyes when Asher removed his shirt. He noticed. “Squeamish, Maddy?
There’s no blood.”
She watched him hoist himself up on the table, muscles rippling under golden skin
and
“If you’re grieving, it’s that much harder to comfort her.”
He flicked his hand impatiently. “I’m fine. But I have no experience with children.
None. And it doesn’t come naturally to me.”
“Just give her love and attention. That’s all she needs from you right now. That and
discipline.”
He gave a short laugh. “Oh,
that’s
all.” He took his hand back and ran his hands over his face. “I’ll get her from school,
take her out after. We’ll bring takeout home for dinner, okay?”
“Sure.”
Asher rose with his coffee, refilled it and left the kitchen.
• • •
Maddy was making breakfast an hour later when her cell rang. She glanced at it, annoyed.
Asher. She hadn’t heard him leave, but that was nothing new, this house was so damn
big.
“Maddy? Can you come pick me up, please? Justin’s out of town.”
“Sure. Where are you?”
“Stunt Road.”
“Okay, where on Stunt Road?”
“You can’t miss me.”
“Did you break down?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“I’ll be there in … ”
“About an hour, and Maddy?”
“Yes?”
“Drive carefully.”
By eleven-thirty Maddy was creeping along in her old Honda on the most winding road
she’d ever driven, with hundred foot drops on either side, and only a guardrail between
her and death by ravine. Finally, she saw him. Or at least she saw the lights of the
patrol car.
Standing on the side of the road was Asher, his Aston Martin wrecked and at a significant
rate of speed by the looks of things. A California Highway Patrol vehicle and a tow
truck flanked the damaged automobile. She stared in disbelief out her front windscreen
at the scene. Maddy pulled over, put the car in park and raced over to him.
“Asher!”
“I’m fine, Maddy.”
She searched his face, taut with pain.
“God-damn it, Asher, no you aren’t,” she gritted. “Officer, if you don’t need him
for anything, I’m taking him to the closest hospital to get checked out.”
The officer’s eyebrows arched. “He said he was fine.”
She scowled at the two men.
Asher took in her car. “Maddy, this is what you drive?” He was clearly horrified.
“It’s a deathtrap.”
She pointed to his cherry-red sports car, which had mated with the guardrail. “My
car is a deathtrap?
My car
? Get in, Asher.”
With the help of the CHP officer he seated himself, leaning to close the door with
a wince.
“Where’s the closest hospital?” she asked.
“Don’t need the hospital,” Asher said.
“Want me to call an ambulance?” the officer asked.
“How far is it?” she asked, overriding Asher’s vehement “God no. No ambulance!”
“Twenty minutes.” He pointed east.
“I’ll drive him then,” she said.
Thirty minutes later, they reached the hospital. Thirty minutes of listening to an
irritable Asher lampoon her car. She was starting to regret giving him a ride.
The hospital scene was the height of absurdity. People in the emergency room waiting
room recognized Asher, wanted autographs and tried to chat with him. The ER staff
was no better when they brought him back. Despite his injury he was laughing and joking
and listening to people reminisce about Spade shows.
“Listen … uh … Miss,” she paused to read the name tag of the attractive nurse
who had taken Asher aside and was regaling him with her favorite Spade videos, “can
you check him out? Or find someone who can?”
Maddy wasn’t of the opinion that celebrities should get special treatment — far from
it — but Asher was getting paler by the minute and no one seemed to want to evaluate
him. The nurse left and a white-haired man in a lab coat, who had no idea what the
fuss was about, asked Asher to lie on the table.
Maddy averted her eyes when Asher removed his shirt. He noticed. “Squeamish, Maddy?
There’s no blood.”
She watched him hoist himself up on the table, muscles rippling under golden skin
and
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