Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
A healer who can’t heal…
What has that done to him?
I don’t really know the man.
How can I love him so much when I know so little about him?
A server approaches me. “Can I get you anything to drink while you wait for your companion?”
“Yes, please. A glass of Chianti would be lovely. And some ice water.”
“Coming right up.” She whisks away.
I glance around at the other patrons, couples mostly, leaning in close over candlelight and shared plates of pasta.
A few minutes later, my brother bursts through the front door like a tornado in a suit. He heads straight to our table, launching himself into the chair opposite me.
Henry is classically handsome with blond hair and blue eyes—like a young Robert Redford. He looks so much like our father, only better-looking, if that’s possible. He’s actually my half-brother. His birth mother was a Las Vegas showgirl. She gave up her parental rights when Henry was a baby, and my mom adopted him when she married my dad.
He’s normally well put together, but tonight there are dark circles under his eyes and his hair is mussed.
“Angie!” He grabs a breadstick and munches into it.
“Henry,” I return, taking in his weary appearance. “You look like hell.”
He chuckles at that, the sound devoid of any real humor. “You always did know how to make a guy feel good about himself.”
I reach over the table to squeeze his hand. “How’s work?” I ask.
He collapses his shoulders in mock exhaustion. “Awful. I’m buried in paperwork, and my boss is a control freak.”
I laugh at that, since Henry is the boss.
He is kind of a control freak, though, so he’s not wrong.
Our server arrives with my drinks and takes Henry’s order.
After she leaves, Henry leans back in his chair, his gaze drifting out the window. “How’s life in medical school?”
I shrug, swirling the wine in my glass. “The usual.”
What a freaking lie.
Henry chuckles again, this time with a bit more humor. “You should have followed in my footsteps, Angie,” he teases. “Work for the family. Stay on the Western Slope, where the air is fresh and the mountains are gorgeous.”
I roll my eyes, taking a sip of my Chianti. “And deal with people like you all day? No thanks. Besides, I’m right in the foothills here. I love Boulder.”
He shrugs. “It’s not bad.”
The server brings him his drink—a dirty martini—takes our orders, and leaves.
“How long have you been in town?” I ask.
“Since yesterday. I would have called, but like I said, this was a last-minute trip. Brad wanted to be home because Uncle Joe is having some tests, and he wants to be at the hospital when the results come in.”
That thought sobers me up quickly. Not that I was in a particularly good mood, but Uncle Joe’s cancer has us all freaked.
“I saw Aunt Mel over the weekend,” I say. “She seems in good spirits.”
“That’s her way.”
“True,” I say, tracing the rim of my wine glass. Aunt Mel has always been the picture of resilience ever since I can remember. Even now, with her husband battling a terminal illness, she somehow exudes an aura of unyielding strength.
“Uncle Joe’s lucky to have her.” Henry takes a sip of his drink.
I nod. “She’s been his rock throughout all this.”
The server returns with plates of steaming pasta and gives us a cheerful smile that seems oddly misplaced amidst the somber mood at our table.
As we dig into our meals, I regard my brother. His golden-boy exterior has always masked the depths of his complexity. Beneath his charismatic charm and confident demeanor lies a man who would move a mountain to protect me, but no way could he know about Jason and Ralph. I’m not even going to bother asking if he had anything to do with Ralph’s incident.
“So what were you doing yesterday?” I ask.
“Same.” He twirls his fork in his pasta. “In the conference all day.”
“And last night?”
He keeps his eyes focused on his plate. “Went out with a few guys I met. Had a couple of beers.”
Did Ralph get attacked last night? Or was it this morning?
I have no idea. All I know is that it happened sometime between the time I saw him, when I was going to Jason’s office, and today.
But again, Henry had nothing to do with this.
If he had, he’d have some kind of tell. He can take Ralph in a minute, but he’d have some kind of bruise or scrape. He’s not bulletproof.
“Why the interrogation?” he asks.
“Just making conversation,” I reply, keeping my gaze steady. The last thing I want is for Henry to get suspicious. He’s protective and fiercely loyal, two qualities that have landed him in hot water more than once.
Henry gives me a measured look. “All right, but you’re usually not this interested in my social life.”
“Can’t a sister be concerned about her brother?”