The Best Next Thing

She smiled at him. “It’s nothing like you’ve seen on television. They have to X-ray your arm to be sure nothing’s broken, and if it’s all fine, they’ll give you something for the pain and ease it back into place as carefully as possible. You’ll have to rest it for a few weeks and after that you’ll be right as rain. With a cool story to tell your buddies.”

“Don’t think so, Miss. They all saw m-me jump off the chair like a twat—” He winced. “Sorry, Miss, I shouldn’t have used that w-word, but…”

“That’s okay, you get a pass right now, because you’re in pain.” She looked at the tall, grim man silently holding the first aid kit and gestured toward it. “Greyson, could I have that, please?”

He handed it over, and she opened the box to see if it contained anything she could use to make Sinclair more comfortable.

“Aah, here we go,” she said, with a satisfied grunt, removing a sling from its sterilized packaging. “Let’s immobilize this arm until the paramedics get here.”

She helped him ease his arm into the sling, keeping his movements small and excruciatingly slow.

She had just finished when the EMTs slammed into the community center.

“You’ll be fine,” she reassured the young man, who was still desperately hanging onto Charlie’s hand. She stepped away and allowed the EMTs to take over and watched as the boy was ministered to and lifted onto a gurney, before being bustled out of the community center. Charlie was still by his side, and the other teens trailed behind them shouting out words of encouragement.

All other activities had pretty much ceased during the emergency, and to her extreme chagrin, Charity found herself surrounded by people who wanted to thank her and pat her on her back. Happily, everybody soon dissipated into smaller groups, still talking excitably while packing up their things.

She picked up her towel from where she had dropped it on the floor and, on extremely reluctant feet, made her way to where Miles was now chatting with Sam and Greyson.

Greyson’s face lit up in a rare grin.

“That was pretty goddamned impressive, Cole,” he said. High praise indeed from the usually aloof man.

“Very,” Sam concurred. “You a moonlight as a doctor or something?”

“Or something.” She shrugged nonchalantly. Sam and Greyson were both discreet enough to drop the subject when they sensed someone didn’t want to talk about something. She turned her attention to Miles, who still hadn’t spoken. “Uh…ready to go? Is Stormy in the car?”

“I told George to take her home.”

The statement confused her. “But…what about us?”

“He took an Uber. He’ll feed Stormy and make sure she’s settled for the evening and then come back in his own car. I’ll drive us home later. I thought we could grab something to eat.”

“I’m hardly dressed to eat out,” she pointed out beneath her breath, casting a self-conscious glance at the two other men. They were both feigning avid interest in the walls and floors…the ceiling. Seriously, their eavesdropping would be less overt if they just pretended to chat with each other.

“You look great,” Miles said, giving her an appreciative once-over. Her abruptly sweaty palms and elevated breathing had very little to do with the extreme tension of the last twenty minutes and everything to do with the sensual light in his eyes. God, that look should be outlawed.

She gathered her scattered thoughts enough to protest, “I’m definitely not fit to eat out in public after my earlier workout.”

“Well, why not join Lia and me for dinner tonight then?” Sam chimed in, proving that he’d totally and unashamedly been listening in on their conversation. “You don’t have to dress up to hang out with us.”

“You can’t just invite us without clearing it with your fiancée,” Charity said, appalled. Definitely not wanting to do that. A restaurant would be preferable to the intimacy of a couples’ dinner.

“Hey, sunshine!” Sam’s voice traveled above the noise of the still babbling people—clearly this had been more excitement than they had seen in a while—and caught the attention of the slender, pretty woman in yoga pants and a sports tank. She had been instructing the mommy and baby yoga class and was chatting with a few of the lingering moms. Lia MacGregor gave her fiancé an exasperated look, clearly not impressed with the shouting.

“Can Miles and Charity come to dinner tonight?”

She flashed him a smile and thumbs up before continuing her chat with the women.

“See? It’s fine,” Sam said, with a grin. “Let me stow the equipment, and you guys can follow us home.”

“You sure it’s okay?” Miles asked.

“Yeah, we could braai or something. That way Lia won’t have to do too much. You and Clara want to join us, Grey?”

“I don’t think so. She’s cutting a molar and a bit moody. She won’t be good company.” Clara was his eighteen-month-old daughter, and he watched her every night while his wife was at the restaurant. “And my brother is popping over for a couple of brews and some pool. Rain check? Maybe on a weekend sometime when Olivia is off?”