Jackie Braun - The Heir's Unexpected Return

She turned, taking in his sheepish smile. She guessed him to be a few years her junior, which would put him in his late twenties. Despite a hairline that was already receding halfway across his crown, his face was almost boyish. If he had to shave once a week, she would be surprised.

“It’s no problem,” she lied.

“I’m Joe Bosley, your other uninvited guest.” He let go of one of the wheelchair handles so he could shake her hand. “I’m Mr. Faust’s physical therapist.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Joe. I’m Brigit Wright. As you probably guessed, I manage Faust Haven.”

Joe nodded. Then, “Hey, would it be okay if I stowed my stuff in here?”

Better in the spare room with her than taking up space in the main living area. Brigit nodded and then pointed across the room. “The drawers in that dresser are mostly empty. If you’d like, you can have a couple of them.”

“Great. Thanks. I’ll take the bottom two.”

That left her with the top three. “And there’s plenty of room in the closet if you have anything you want to hang up.”

“Nah.” Joe wrinkled his pug-like nose and motioned to his hulking frame. “I’m a wash-and-wear kind of guy. Shorts, T-shirts and sweats mostly, although I do keep a pair of khaki pants and a few polo shirts on hand for anything that requires me to dress up.”

She nearly smiled. Khakis and collared shirts were Joe’s formal wear. Meanwhile, if all of the photographs she’d seen of Kellen over the years were any indication, the guy probably owned stock in Armani. Not that Kellen didn’t wear a tux well , a traitorous voice whispered. She silenced it.

Joe’s simple wardrobe explained why he had only one medium-size suitcase while his boss had brought a pair of ginormous ones as well as a garment bag. Whatever designer-label duds were stuffed inside of them really wasn’t the issue. The sheer amount said he was planning a far more extended stay than she’d first assumed. Just her luck.

“This is a nightmare,” she muttered, momentarily forgetting about her audience.

Not surprisingly, Joe misunderstood what she meant. “You’ll hardly know we’re here.”

“I’m sorry. That was rude. I’m not usually rude,” she said.

Uptight, unimaginative and colossally boring both in the bedroom and out, according to her ex, but even that jerk had never called Brigit’s manners into question.

“It’s okay.” Joe sent her a reassuring smile. Then, motioning over his shoulder with one thumb, he added, “He’s not so bad, you know.”

“I’m sure.” Her attempt at sounding convincing fell far short.

“Really,” Joe insisted. “Mr. F is in a lot of pain right now.”

She nodded. “He said he’s not taking the meds the doctor prescribed. Said they give him brain fog.”

She decided to keep to herself the part about him worrying about becoming addicted.

“They’d give an elephant brain fog.” Joe leaned closer then and dropped his voice to barely above a whisper. “His pain isn’t all physical, although I doubt he’d admit to that.”

So, the accident had taken an emotional toll as well. Brigit supposed she shouldn’t find that surprising. Even strong people could succumb to depression. God knew, she’d hovered at its dark door for a time just before finally calling it quits on her marriage.

“Mr. Faust’s injury...how bad is it?”

“To be honest, it’s one of the worst I’ve ever seen. His wrist and shoulder have healed pretty well, but his leg...he mangled it but good. Major tendon and ligament damage in addition to the bone fractures.” Joe shook his head and exhaled. “You know, the doctors initially advised amputating just above the knee.”

“My God!” Brigit gasped. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well, he managed to keep that much from being leaked to the press. His friends ...” Joe snorted, as if finding the word laughable. “They forwarded all sorts of information and even a few photographs snapped in Mr. F’s hospital room to the tabloids. He wasn’t happy about it.”

“I’d say he needs a better class of friends.”

Joe grunted at her assessment. “I can’t say I was sorry when he announced we would be heading back to the States. Some of them probably haven’t noticed he’s gone, although they’ll get the idea once the chalet sells.”

Brigit’s stomach dropped. “Sells?”

“He said he doesn’t want to go back there. Of course, it might just be the depression talking.”

One could hope. Because if he didn’t go back there, she had the sickening feeling she knew where he might next call home.

“How’s his therapy going?” she asked, hoping for good news.

That wasn’t what she got.

“Slow.” Joe sighed. “All of the scar tissue isn’t helping, especially since most days he doesn’t want to do his exercises.”

“That must make your job difficult.”

“It does. It also feeds his frustration, because depressed or not, he refuses to give up hope.”

“Of walking without assistance, you mean?” she inquired.

Joe nodded. “Walking without assistance to start. Then running, skiing. He wants to be as good as new.”

Despite a mangled leg that the doctors had wanted to amputate.

“That’s not likely to happen, is it?” she asked softly.

Joe looked away and cleared his throat. “I really shouldn’t be talking about Mr. F’s case with anyone. I just wanted you to know that, well, he’s not being a jerk right now just to be a jerk.”

“Understood. Thank you.”

But if Joe thought she was going to cut the irritable Kellen Faust some slack, he was wrong. Oh, she would tread lightly. She wasn’t an idiot, and she loved this job. But letting people get away with being insufferable, even if they had a good reason for being that way, wasn’t healthy for anyone. Besides, she was finished being anyone’s verbal punching bag.

When Brigit reached the master bedroom, the driver was waiting for her. Kellen’s large suitcases were open on the bed.

“I’ll need a few drawers in the bureau where I can put away his things. Hope that’s okay?”

Where Kellen ordered, his employees asked. She appreciated their restraint.

“Sure.” She grabbed a tote bag from the closet and started to fill it with socks and underwear from the top drawer. Over her shoulder she called, “I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”

The man sported a shaved head, so her phrasing earned a wry look.

“No rush, Miss Wright.”

“Call me Brigit.”

He smiled, showing off a gold front tooth. “I’m Lou.”

“So, Lou, where will you be staying? I assume you won’t be bunking in here. Will you and Joe be flipping a coin to see who sleeps on the floor and who gets the pullout sofa?”

“Nah.” Lou chuckled. “The kid gets the living room all to himself. I have family on the other side of the island not far from the ferry docks. I’ll be staying there, although I’ll be on call for the duration of Mr. Faust’s stay.” He grinned and sent her a wink. “Worried that you were going to have to make room for another unexpected boarder?”

“Not at all. The more the merrier,” she said drily.

They both laughed.

While she finished filling her bag with clothes from the dresser drawers, Lou hung an assortment of shirts and pants in the closet. All of the garments screamed expensive and were far more formal than the nylon pants, T-shirt and track jacket Kellen had on now.

Did he plan to wear them? If so, when? Where? Once again, she was left with the uneasy feeling that her employer was hunkering down for the long haul.

The man was accustomed to a robust social life, if the press accounts were to be believed. Well, he wouldn’t find much of that on the island. Of course, since his accident, he’d lain low. In recent months, the only time his photograph had graced the newspapers, whether the legitimate press or the gossip rags, he’d been shown leaving a doctor’s office or a hospital. No smiles for the cameras in those pictures. He’d worn the same pain-induced grimace she’d viewed firsthand. And his palms had been up, as if to ward off the swarming paparazzi.