Adios Pantalones (Fisher Brothers 3)

The woman looked up at me. “I’m not sure. Heart attack, maybe? He clutched his chest before he fell to the ground. I don’t think anyone else saw him because no one stopped.” Her voice was shaking, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Sunlight caught her hair, making her look angelic, not that she needed the help. She was fucking beautiful.

Without another word, I dropped to the ground on the other side of Grant and dialed 911.

“We need an ambulance at the running path near lifeguard station number twenty-three.” I didn’t need to look around to know exactly where I was. I had this stretch of beach memorized. “Male, I think he’s about seventy. Good shape, jogs every morning.” At the dispatcher’s question, I leaned forward to bring my ear toward Grant’s mouth and nose. “Yes, he’s breathing, but it’s shallow and sounds labored . . . Okay. Please hurry.”

My eyes locked on the scared woman sitting in front of me, Grant’s head cradled in her lap. I didn’t recognize her, had never seen her running the path before. And trust me, I would have noticed her, with or without the halo that still framed her face.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

Her hazel eyes met mine, and she took me in for a beat before responding. “You know him?” she asked, not answering my question.

I nodded, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her. Golden-brown hair had fallen around her cheeks, and I wanted to tuck the strands behind her ear.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” she asked, her attention focused on Grant.

I forced a smile and looked down at the man I had come to respect and considered a friend. “He’s tough. He’ll pull through. Won’t you, Grant?” I waited for him to nod, or move, or blink, but he did none of those things. He hadn’t moved at all since I got there. He was as still as the woman holding him.

“I’ve never seen you before.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, my tone far more flirtatious than I’d intended.

“I usually run earlier,” she said b

efore stopping short, like she was uncomfortable divulging that bit of information to a perfect stranger.

I extended my hand. “I’m Ryan.”

Her lips tightened as she stared at my hand, making no move to reach for it. “I know who you are.”

That shocked me. It probably shouldn’t have, but it still took me by surprise. “You do?”

“I’ve been to your bar,” she said, then added, “Once.” She leveled me with her steady gaze before focusing back on the old man.

I sat there, confused for a second at her attempt to blow me off.

Had I been rude to her at the bar? I couldn’t imagine that could be true, but her pretending I didn’t exist when I was sitting right across from her made me uncomfortable. Women didn’t usually hate me without provocation, and I had no idea what I could have possibly done to her and not remember it.

“Are you going to tell me your name?” I decided to push her a little more, see what she might give me. It was a foolish move, so call me a damn fool if you want. I found myself staring at her and the halo around her head that made her look like a real-life angel.

“I told you my name the last time you asked. I’m sorry you don’t remember it,” she said, her tone anything but sorry.

For once in my life, I found myself unable to read a woman’s eyes. She looked right at me, her expression shuttered, and I had no idea what she was thinking or feeling.

Based on her reaction, I was almost convinced she hated me. No, hate was too strong a word, but she definitely wasn’t impressed with me, neither now nor the first time we met. The time I didn’t remember.

The piercing shriek of a siren filled the air, and I looked up to see an ambulance headed in our direction. I jumped to my feet, waving my arms to draw their attention as they navigated off the road and toward the path where Grant still lay unresponsive. A small crowd had formed around us as the paramedics hopped out and ran forward, carrying a stabilizing board.

Two EMTs crouched down next to Grant. “Did you see what happened?” one of them asked.

The angel shook her head. “I only saw him clutch his chest before he fell.”

“Has he said anything? Talked at all?”

“No,” she said as they moved him carefully from her care. Her breathing quickened, her worry for Grant etched all over her face. She couldn’t have hidden her concern if she tried, that much I could tell. I could practically see her heart on her sleeve, bleeding for a man she didn’t even know.

I wrenched my gaze away from her and watched as the paramedics took Grant’s vitals, spouting off directions and information to each other in a shorthand I didn’t understand but desperately wanted to. They hooked him up to contraptions I couldn’t name and strapped him onto the board. I’d never felt as helpless as I did in those moments when I wasn’t sure if he was going to live or die. His face was so pale.

The paramedics wheeled him away and I followed behind.

“Can I go with him?” I shouted.