Murphy's Law

Their gazes meshed, even as their fingers touched.

“Anything,” she said, her voice soft and breathless.

“Hang on to this for me?” He must have seen the question in her eyes because he rushed on, “Don't get me wrong. It's not that I don't trust people who work in hospitals. It's just that,” he shrugged self-consciously, “I trust you more.”

It was a high compliment, and she knew it. There was, of course, an entirely selfish reason for her to hold onto the duffel bag for Garrett. She would have to see him again to give it back.

The idea was appealing. Surprisingly so.

True, she would probably only see him that one more time, yet it was one more time than she would have if they parted now to go their separate ways—which they were going to have to do as soon as the ambulance arrived.

“Please,” Garrett said.

That single, hoarsely uttered word was the deciding factor. This was not the sort of man who used words like “trust” and “please” lightly, if at all.

Nodding, she accepted the duffel bag when he pushed it into her hands. It felt no heavier in her lap than Moonshine, who waited outside in Stephen's truck, although the responsibility and faith the duffel bag conveyed was much weightier. “I'll take good care of it. I promise.”

“I never doubted it,” Garrett said, and grinned. His eyes were slightly glazed from the shot of pain medication Doc Kerns had given him, but it was clear his faculties were intact, that he knew what he was doing. “Murphy?”

“Hmmm?”

“Tell me something?”

She hesitated. “If I can.”

“If Stephen hadn't shown up when he did, would—?”

She was blushing, she could feel it. To the roots of her hair. Murphy glanced away quickly, hoping he wouldn't notice, knowing he already had. “I don't know what would have happened. I guess we'll never know.”

“I guess,” he replied. It was clear by his tone, and the way he tapped his toe thoughtfully on the polished linoleum floor, that his mind was still worrying over the possibilities.

For that matter, so was Murphy's. How far would she have let things go if Stephen hadn't shown up when he did? It was a good question. It was also unanswerable. Truly, they would never know. That she'd been positive they were both going to die in that car had undoubtedly had some bearing on…

Murphy sighed, and her shoulders slumped forward. Oh, who was she trying to kid? Yes, a part of her had been sure they'd freeze to death in the storm, however that wasn't the reason she'd let him touch her. Or the reason she'd enjoyed his touch so much. Nothing so simple.

Garrett's voice jarred her from her thoughts. “Murphy?”

“Hmmm?” she murmured, distracted, and glanced at him. While she'd thought the overhead florescent lights adequate a second ago, now she wasn't so sure. Was Garrett blushing?

“If we'd met at another time, another place, under better circumstance,” he said, smiling awkwardly, “do you think…that is, if I asked…I mean. Damn it, what's wrong with me? I never get tongue-tied.” He raked all ten fingers though his sandy hair, tussling it. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “What I'm trying to say is, if we'd met like normal people, would you have gone out to dinner with me…if I'd asked you?”

Her mind flashed an image of soft music, candlelight, and an intimate lobster dinner at Capriccios, the classiest and most expensive restaurant in Providence. A perfect evening. Perfect because the man sitting across the table from her was Garrett Thayer.

With the tip of her tongue, she moistened suddenly parched lips, then regretted the impulse when she felt his gaze shadow the movement. “I-I don't know. Like I said, my life is a mess right now, and—”

“Pretend your life isn't a mess.” His eyes were dark, probing. “Pretend your job is perfect. Pretend your life is perfect. Would you have gone out to dinner with me then?”

It was a tall order, considering, but she tried to pretend the chaos she'd once called work didn't exist. Her nod was automatic, her sigh wistful. “Oh, yes.”

Garrett grinned. It was a slow, lazy curve of one corner of his mouth. The sight had a devastating affect on Murphy. Her senses somersaulted, and she couldn't help but grin back.

They sat in companionable silence for a minute. He was the first to break it. “Murphy?” he asked yet again.

“What?”

“There's just one more thing.”

Her attention had drifted across the room, her gaze fixed sightlessly on the framed diplomas hanging slightly askew on the wainscoted wall. Garrett slipped the crook of his finger under her chin, turning her head toward him so she was forced to meet his gaze. His touch was warm and gentle and comforting.