The Heart - Kate Stewart Page 0,4

coming of Brad Pitt from the movie Thelma and Louise.

His smile seemed genuine, and I couldn’t help but take in the way his white dress shirt clung to his chest in the Texas heat.

“Aunt Wose, wet me go!” I snapped out of my daze and kissed Grant again then set him down.

“Can I help you?”

“You must be Rose.”

“Yes,” I said, curious as to how he knew who I was.

“You look a lot like your dad.” I ran through the scenarios of who he could be then jumped a little in recognition.

“Jack,” I said with an easy smile. “My father told me you were coming today. How was your trip? Alabama, right?”

“Louisiana, actually, New Orleans,” he said with a proper Cajun accent sliding off his tongue as he took a long look around the massive complex with a whistle. “You know, when your dad told me what he was up to, I knew I had to jump on board. This is going to be exactly what you and your sister imagined it to be. I’ll make sure of it.” He looked back at me and gave me a wink as little hands once again gripped my scrubs, and the three of us walked through the entrance.

“Aunt Wose?” Grant asked, eyeing our stranger with caution and slight disdain.

“What is it, buddy,” I asked, having a horrible time ripping my eyes away from our visitor.

“Can I have an ice pop?”

“Sure, baby blue,” I said, looking down at him and then back at Jack. “Will you excuse me? I need to go find his mother and get an ice pop. We can meet you back here for a tour.”

“Of course.” He nodded as I took Grant’s hand then went in search of Dallas. I found her in her newly finished office roaming over paperwork with a fidgety eleven-month-old Annabelle in her lap. Much like Grant, her daughter looked not a thing like her, either. I found it hilarious.

She addressed me before I had a chance to speak. “Have you seen a Spaniard around? Tall, gorgeous, and very close to being castrated?”

Before I could answer, Grant had a roundabout question of his own. “Mommy, Aunt Wose, ice pop?”

Dallas caught on, narrowing her eyes at me. She was all wrathy today, and I could feel it rolling off her.

“It’s just a little fruit juice,” I defended with a roll of my eyes as I walked across the hall to the half-finished break room and grabbed a pop from the freezer.

“I can’t believe Dean’s not here! I’m screwed. He was supposed to be here an hour ago before the subcontractor came!” she huffed in frustration.

“Jack’s in the lobby waiting for us,” I confirmed with a wince.

“Shit,” she said, flustered as Annabelle ripped at her shirt with chubby hands. She stood and made her way to her office blinds to get a look at Jack. I saw her body stiffen before she turned to me with a slow smile spreading across her face. I hated that smile. It reminded me of the torturous antics I’d had to endure from her as a child. “Sorry, Rose, you’re on your own.”

“No way. Dad isn’t here, either, and I can’t answer all his questions! I’ll watch the babies, you go.”

Although I knew the basic plans for the center inside and out, I wasn’t as versed in the details as my father, who hadn’t arrived yet, or Dallas, who had been by his side handling everything while I spent the majority of my days completing my surgical residency at Dallas Memorial. I had a little less than two years to complete my residency. My days off were devoted to the center, but those days were few and far between.

“Sorry, I have the boobs this one needs, and as you can see, she’s starving.” I looked at a perfectly content Annabelle and narrowed my eyes at Dallas.

“He’s hot.”

“So what?” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

“He’s waiting, that’s what.” Dallas dismissed me, taking her seat behind her desk before waving me away as if that was the end of it.

I wanted to debate her on what was truly important in this situation, but I knew just how hard she was working to get the center ready. I couldn’t give her hell when I’d been more absent than present.

“Fine.”

Jack was in the lobby where I left him. The incessant noise of power tools kept him from hearing my approach. His back was to me, and he was peering through the glass behind what