Renovation (A Golden Beach Novel) Page 2

  “Donovan Miller, you’re not dressed for duty, I see. What can I do for you?”

  “Female, twenty-five, blond, named Valerie Peters was brought in by transport with a head injury. What room is she in, Casey?”

  “You’re not on duty, Miller. What’s it to you?”

  “Don’t be a bitch, Case. I was the first responder. Need to see if she’s all right.”

  Casey rolled her eyes and consulted the charts. “Room twenty-three. Don’t go barreling in there. She’s concussed and cranky.”

  He slapped his hand on the desk and grinned. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

  As he walked down the hall toward room twenty-three, he heard her before he saw her. She was swearing like a sailor and he could picture the poor intern saddled with the job of stapling her scalp, cringing with every exclamation.

  “Ouch, shit!”

  “Sorry.”

  “Son of a bitch!”

  “I’m really sorry.”

  “Mother f——”

  Donavan chuckled as he entered the room. “Glad to see your verbal skills haven’t been impaired. You’re scaring the newbies.”

  The young intern gave him a pleading look. “I haven’t even started with the staples yet. I’m just trying to get it clean so I can numb the area.”

  “Calm down, sweetheart. This’ll be over before you know it.”

  “Don’t call me sweetheart.” The glare she shot him could have turned him to stone. “What are you doing here?”

  “Making sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine . . . ouch!” She winced as the intern numbed her scalp and set to work stapling her laceration.

  Donovan walked over to inspect the intern’s work. “You’ll have a little scar. It’s only four staples.”

  He couldn’t resist reaching out to capture a lock of her hair between his fingers. She jerked away from him and slapped his hand.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Sorry.” Embarrassment flooded him. “Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were all right. I have your bag and clothes. The lifeguards gave them to me.”

  Her face softened and she reached for her belongings. “Thanks.”

  “I’m Donovan.” He held out his hand.

  She ignored the gesture. “Yeah, I know who you are.”

  “Then why don’t I know you?” He searched his memory in vain, wading through the nameless faces of women over the last few years.

  Peters, Valerie Peters. “Wait . . . are you Angie’s sister?”

  She nodded. “Ding, ding.”

  “Why haven’t I seen you around?”

  “I’ve been working abroad for the last year and a half. I think the last time I saw you was at John’s funeral.”

  Awareness struck him like a bolt of lightning. “You’re Grace’s assistant. I hear she’s marrying that English guy.”

  Valerie’s face set in a stony mask. “Yes. No thanks to you.”

  It took a moment, but soon he realized what she was talking about. “Look, I already apologized to her. I was angry. We all lost John. Grace moving on with someone like that guy was too much for me. I couldn’t deal.”

  “You told her she was sick. That she needed professional help. They broke up because of what you said.”

  He knew she was right. He’d crossed the line with Grace, been a real asshole. John Oliver had been his mentor, the man who’d taught him things that no time in training could. He’d been there that day, on the same call that had ended in John’s death.

  John’s brother, Michael, was still at the house, working on his crew; a constant reminder of Donovan’s failure. The memory made his heart race. He took a calming breath and tried to ignore the bead of sweat trickling down his spine.

  “I’m not saying I wasn’t an asshole. I’m glad she’s happy.”

  She tilted her head and winced at the movement. “She is. She really is.”

  An awkward silence filled the room and he shifted from foot to foot before backing toward the door.

  “Okay, then. I guess I’m gonna head out. Take care.”

  “Thanks for rescuing me,” she called softly.

  He turned to look at her over his shoulder. “It’s what I do, sweetheart.”

  He laughed out loud as he walked down the hall, listening to her shout at him. “Dammit, I’m not your sweetheart!”

  The girl was something else. Despite the head wound and hospital gown, he wanted her. He couldn’t put his finger on one reason for his attraction to her. She seemed to hate him. That should have been a turn-off. Instead, it fired him up, made him want to work for it, work for her.

  Shit, that was a new one.

  Chapter 2

  “Valerie! Valerie! Where is she?” Valerie heard her mother’s shrill voice from down the hall. She pulled her jeans over her hips and tried to disguise the throbbing in her head as her parents rushed into the room.

  “Baby girl, are you okay?” Her dad’s face was lined with worry.

  “I’m fine. It’s just a concussion.”

  Valerie felt self-conscious as her mom’s eyes investigated every inch of her. “You look pale. Did you need stitches?”

  She shook her head. “Staples.” The movement jarred her already rattled brain and made her wince.

  “Let’s get you home.” Her dad picked up her bag from the floor.

  “My car is still at the pool.”

  “It’s fine. We’ll go get it later.”

  “I’m sorry you had to worry.”

  Her dad shook his head. “We’re just glad you’re safe. When Donovan called us, we thought the worst. I . . .”

  Tears filled her mother’s eyes and a wave of guilt passed over Valerie. “I know. I’m sorry.” Memories of the accident that had killed her little brother six years ago flooded her.

  “Let’s not dwell on the past. You’re all right, that’s what matters. Come on.”

  The car ride back to her family home consisted of three stoplights and two left turns. She had it memorized. She could probably drive it in her sleep. After the accident, she’d visited the children’s wing of Golden Beach General every day until there wasn’t a reason to anymore. Her heart gave a squeeze as she thought of her little brother in that big hospital bed. She swiped at the tears threatening to spill and took a shuddering breath.

  “You all right, baby girl?” her dad asked from the driver’s seat as they pulled into their driveway.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Thinking of Simon?” her mom mused.

  Her heart squeezed again. It still killed her to hear his name.

  “Yeah. I’m okay.”

  As they walked into the house, she was comforted by the familiar smells of marinara sauce and roasted garlic. She heard laughter coming from the kitchen and smiled at the sound of Asher’s little laugh.

  “Va-wee!” His sweet face lit up when he saw her.

  “Hey, Ash. What’s happening, buddy?”

  “Ri-wee said you got hurt.”

  “Yeah, Riley is right. I bumped my head while I was swimming.” She sat at the kitchen table and pulled him into her lap. He was only four years old, but he had her heart completely.

  “You awright?” Asher’s little hand rested gently on her cheek.

  “Yeah, honey. I’m just fine. A fireman and some doctors got me all fixed up.”

  Valerie hugged her littlest brother tightly and looked over the top of his head at her other brother, Riley. He was standing at the counter with an anguished look on his face as he compulsively picked at his cuticles. The break in routine had him stressed.

  “Hey, Ry. I’m okay.”

  He looked down at his feet and picked at his cuticles some more before meeting her eyes
. “Good.”

  Riley was a quiet kid. His mind was sharp, but he rarely spoke unless there was something he felt was important to say. The oldest boy in the family, he took care of his little siblings better than anyone else, except their mom. He glanced up at their mom as she walked into the room. She immediately started dishing out spaghetti in heaping servings for everyone, and soon they were all settled around the table eating and catching up, as if they hadn’t just come from the hospital.

  When dinner was finished, the plates cleared and dishes washed, Valerie wandered into the family room. Pictures of the family—with and without Simon—graced the walls. He’d been only four years old when he died and the blank space in family photos hurt her heart. Her dad put an arm around her.

  “You know, we all miss him every day. It wasn’t your fault. He ran into the road.”

  She nodded, but couldn’t speak due to the lump in her throat.

  Her dad looked at his watch and nodded at her mom. “Kelly? He should be here any minute.”

  Valerie sat up, alarmed. “Who?”

  “Donovan,” her mom said, as if it was totally normal for random strangers to come over.

  “What? Why is he coming over?”

  “Valerie, he rescued you. The least I could do was invite him over for dessert.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Was he too busy for dinner?”

  “No, he went to your sister’s show.”

  Valerie grimaced. “Angie . . . oh, crap, Mom. You guys missed her band play.”

  “It’s okay, hon. They play all the time. I’ve heard them more times than I can count. Besides, this was just a short acoustic set at Cups.”

  A flash of annoyance, coupled with the desperate need to make sure she looked good, rushed through her. “I’ve got to go freshen up if we’re having company.”

  Her mom grinned. “You do that. Angie should be home soon, too.”

  Brandon looked up from his video game long enough to smirk. He made kissing noises until she picked up a stuffed toy and chucked it at his head. Her fifteen-year-old brother loved any chance to give her a hard time.

  She trudged upstairs to the old room she’d shared with Angela. Her parents kept it as a shrine to their two daughters. The walls were plastered with posters of pop stars, feather boas, and twinkle lights. She grinned as she saw the two twin beds on either side of the room, still sporting their hot pink comforter sets. Many nights had been spent talking about boys and wondering how long they’d have to wait to get boobs. This was the place her family had finally settled, where she did most of her growing up.

  She took in her bedraggled appearance and sighed. Dark circles ringed her blue eyes and stringy blond hair fell around her face. She grimaced after a tilt of her head revealed the spot of blood and staples through her light hair.

  “God, I look like a hot mess,” she told her reflection as she sat down at the hot pink vanity table. She pulled her make-up clutch from the depths of her pool bag and set to work.

  Before long, her hair was brushed, make-up disguised her tired eyes, and a little blush brightened her complexion. She finally resembled herself and a thrill of anticipation ran through her when she heard the ring of the doorbell.

  Donovan was an arrogant ass, but a hot, arrogant ass.

  Donovan shut off the engine of his jeep at the curb of the Peters’ house. He grinned when he saw Angela running up the driveway, late as usual.

  “The Beatles? Come on, Angie, I thought you had better taste in music,” he teased as he took in her faded Let it Be shirt. Their ongoing battle of the bands was typically fought via album cover T-shirts.

  “Give it up, D, there’s no way The Stones are better than The Beatles. No way in hell.” Angela laughed as she showed him into the house.

  “Angela Marie. Language please,” Kelly Peters scolded over the sink as she filled a kettle with water.

  Angela had the grace to look abashed and shook her head while silently mouthing the words again.

  Valerie breezed into the room, looking just too ridiculously good, and clearly avoiding his gaze. He smiled and watched her move around the kitchen.

  “Have a seat, Donovan,” Kelly called. “Cobbler will be ready in about five minutes. You want coffee?”

  He nodded and waited to see where Valerie would park her pretty little behind. He sat across from her at the kitchen table, turning on his charm and trying to win her over.

  “Oh, Donovan, we’re so glad you could stop by tonight. I can’t tell you how grateful we are that you were there to save Valerie.” Kelly beamed as she dished up a serving of peach cobbler and placed it in front of him.

  “Just doing my job, Mrs. Peters.” He looked across the table at Valerie, who was looking everywhere but at him.

  “Valerie, don’t be rude. Thank Donovan. He saved your life.”

  Valerie turned her eyes to him and a jolt of electricity ran up his spine. Those eyes were going to be the death of him, he was sure of it. Luminous pools of aqua blue stared back, daring him to say something. He took the bait.

  “It’s all right, sweetheart. You’re alive and well, that’s all the thanks I need.”

  He watched her jaw clench, obvious annoyance twisting her face.

  “Don’t. Call. Me. Sweetheart,” she hissed across the table and pushed her bowl away. “I’m not hungry. Can you take me to my car, Angie?”

  Angela shot him an apologetic look. She was Valerie’s younger sister by two years and he knew they were thick as thieves.

  Rejection was a rare experience in his world, unless he was talking to a Peters girl. He knew he could get pretty much any girl he wanted. He was in great shape, good looking, and a firefighter. Women usually drooled over him and his firehouse buddies.

  There was something about these Peters girls. Angela was hot, athletically built, with wide eyes and dark blond hair; totally his type. Except she’d shot him down before he’d even gotten the chance to turn the charm up to eleven. Since then, she’d been his friend. Angie was his conscience and guide through the rough waters of their close-knit community of Golden Beach.

  “Bye, sweetheart. I’m sure I’ll be seeing more of you.” He smirked at Valerie as she gathered her sweater and stalked out of the room.

  “Ease it up, D. She might have a head injury, but you’re about to give her an aneurysm.” Angela’s eyes twinkled with amusement as she reprimanded him.

  “Angie, let’s go,” Valerie called, an impatient note in her voice.

  He chuckled and rose to take his bowl to the sink. His adrenaline was pumping and he could feel embarrassment creeping up his neck to color his cheeks.

  “I’m so sorry, Donovan.” Kelly was clearly mortified by her daughter’s behavior.

  He scooped the last bite of cobbler from his bowl before setting it in the sink, and grinned. “Nah, don’t be. I’ve been baiting her all day.”

  “She’s not as . . .” Kelly gestured as if trying to catch the right word from the air. “. . . relaxed as Angie.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  Two weeks later, Donovan stood in the kitchen at the fire station. Three hours into his shift, and he still couldn’t stop thinking about Valerie. He’d tried everything he could think of while performing his scheduled duties. He’d added lifting weights, running. He even cleaned the rig and scrubbed the house kitchen without being scheduled for it. Nothing worked.

  As he poured himself a fresh cup of coffee, he sighed and ran his free hand across his jaw. She wasn’t even that special. Short and tiny, not his type at all. He liked his women more curvaceous and sensual, big boobs and long legs, tiny brains. Someone he wouldn’t have to answer to, who wouldn’t care about his past or his issues. Valerie was definitely the opposite of those women. She was the dangerous, deep conversations, tell-me-your-se
crets kind. The marrying kind. Even so, he couldn’t deny the attraction he felt for her. She, on the other hand, still seemed to hate his guts. Dessert at her family’s house had been a disaster.

  How could one little slip of a girl get to him like this?

  “D, what the fuck, man?” Klipper stood staring at him with an expression of shock and disgust on his face.

  In his distracted state, Donovan hadn’t stopped pouring after his cup was filled. The hot liquid overflowed and dripped down to the floor, creating a dark puddle at his feet.

  “Fuck.”

  Donovan slammed the coffee pot back on the warmer and snagged the towel from the counter.

  “Where’s your head?”

  “I have no freaking clue,” he lied. He knew exactly where his head was.

  “You still seeing the shrink? Was that a flashback?”

  He waved the question away. “Nah, I’m good, Klip. She cleared me three months ago. Said I don’t need to see her anymore.”

  “Hmm. So what’s got up your ass, then?”

  “Nothing.”

  “It’s that chick we pulled from the pool, isn’t it? The one who doesn’t like you.”

  His ears went hot. “I said it’s nothing.”

  “You know, she goes to yoga with Sullivan. Sully’s real into that higher level of enlightenment crap.”

  Sully sauntered into the kitchen, interest piqued at the mention of his name.

  “What are you two dipshits talking about?”

  “Nothing,” Donovan growled.

  “Yoga. Specifically, hot girls who do it.” Klipper was such a douche.

  “Mmm. Yep, I go for the relaxation and focus. I stay for the yoga pants and downward facing dog.” Sully smirked as he snagged a mug.

  “Sully, you know Valerie Peters, right? She’s friends with Grace.” Klipper’s shit-eating-grin just kept getting wider, making Donovan want to slap it right off his face.