craft an autograph for two reasons. The first was to protect me from identity theft and forgery, but even if that wasn’t an issue, she told me my own signature just wasn’t pretty enough.
I’m sorry to have to break it to you, Iris, but there’s nothing special about you…
...if there were, your father never would have left.
The words come back like boomerangs. And like the Australian weapon, these nearly take me down again.
“Here you go.” I force a smile and hand back the pen and receipt. “Thanks again for all your help.”
“My pleasure. So glad to meet you.” His big smile lifts my spirits. “Thanks for being so cool.”
I give him a practiced bow that makes him laugh. What he doesn’t know is that I’d fall over if I tried to give him a practiced curtsy.
“You are also cool, Nathaniel, and it was great meeting you.” Then I turn to my dour companion. “Ready to go find your uncle?”
“Yep,” he says, the word clipped and unfriendly.
Just a regular ray of sunshine. I resist saying the words out loud and wave to Nathaniel as we leave.
Chapter Eight
BEAU
Two hours after we meet up with Nonc in the ER waiting room, he’s finally seen, x-rayed, and sent home with a temporary cast and an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon. His elbow is broken, alright, and not cleanly.
But at least my uncle convinced Iris Adams and her entourage to go home when eight p.m. came and went.
Thank God.
Because I couldn’t stop staring.
Fans recognized her two more times while we waited, and each time she spent a good three minutes talking, signing autographs, and having her picture taken.
I didn’t have to do the honors for those. The guy, Ramon—I guess he’s an assistant or something—took them. And when she smiled for the camera, it looked… real. Just like it had when I took her picture with the big radiology tech.
Gone was the huffy celebrity princess who’d refused to ride with me. The Iris Adams I watched in the ER was friendly, funny—jeez, she had Nonc laughing so hard, he begged her to stop because it hurt his arm—and as vibrant as a fireworks show.
Gone, too, was the sullen girl I found when I walked up to the hospital entrance. The one who looked like she’d just lost her best friend. The one who’d had me worried about her. Just for a minute.
Damn, that girl can act.
Either that, or she’s bipolar or something.
“You’re awful quiet,” Nonc says from the passenger seat of my truck, scattering thoughts of the drama queen.
“I figured you were tired after all the excitement,” I lie. I’m not about to admit I was thinking of Iris Adams.
He chuckles. “It was quite an evening.”
I raise a brow but keep my eyes on the road. “You think it’s funny?”
He pats the edge of the bandaging near his wrist. “Seems a lot funnier now that I’ve had a little Oxy.”
I snort. “Don’t get attached.”
“Naw.” My uncle shakes his head. “They sent me home with one for the morning, but I’ll stick to over-the-counter meds.”
“Until your surgery,” I mutter.
He grumbles. “Don’t remind me.”
“So, how did it happen?” Maybe I shouldn’t ask, but I’m dying to know. “Were you trying to do a lift or something and it got away from you?”
Nonc blows out a breath between his lips. “No, nothing like that. We were just going through an outside turn. One minute her feet were in front of mine, and then I went to move her through, and the next thing I know, her heel is behind my ankle, and I’m going down.”
I frown, trying to picture it, and Nonc just laughs. “Damndest thing,” he mutters. “Poor girl.”
I give him the side-eye. “Poor girl?! She’s just fine. What about poor you?”
He shakes his head. “She’d trade places with me in a heartbeat.”
I put my gaze back on the road. “Right.” The word drips with sarcasm.
“Aw, come on, Beau. She feels terrible.”
I shrug. “I’m not saying she did it on purpose.”
“Then what are you sayin’?”
The question brings me up short. “Nothing,” I say finally.
Silence hangs between us. “You don’t like her.”
I wince at the accusation. “What is this, sixth grade?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, shooting him crazy eyes.
“You made up your mind about her before you even met her.”
I open my mouth to argue, but I hesitate.
His low laughter fills the cab. “Glad to see you’re not lying to yourself, at least.”