Free Out of the Shadows by Loree Lough Page B

was a job for Zorro!” he said, announcer style.
    Gus gave a flimsy laugh. “Well, g’night. See you at dinner tomorrow?”
    Wade resheathed the blade. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said, grinning at Patrice.
    She looked at her father in surprise. This was the first she’d heard anything about Wade coming to Sunday dinner the following day!
    As Gus disappeared into his room, she returned it with a halfhearted smile.
    In the kitchen, Wade leaned back against the counter while Patrice loaded bowls, glasses and plates into the dishwasher. “You want me to give your dad a once-over before I leave?”
    Her heart pounded. Why would Wade ask such a thing—he was a doctor, after all!—unless he suspected something was wrong? “Do you think that’s necessary?”
    He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied her face. When finally he spoke, she detected a slight change from his friendly, upbeat tone. “I just thought you’d sleep better if I did a quick exam.”
    He wasn’t fooling her. That was his “doctor voice.” The one he had used on little Emily and her mother the other day at the hospital. She didn’t even bother to dry her hands before grabbing his forearm. “What’s wrong, Wade? And don’t candy-coat it. I’m not—”
    He chuckled softly. “If I hear that word again before morning, I might just have to punch something.”
    She gave his arm a slight shake. “What?”
    The smile disappeared. So did the warm light in his eyes. “The word candy. It’s Halloween, and we’ve been—”
    “Okay, all right,” she snapped. She let go of him and snatched the dish towel from the counter. “Ha-ha, I get it.” For all she knew, Gus could be coming down with a virus, and there Wade stood, cracking jokes. Even the common cold could be deadly in his condition. He’s a doctor, she thought, so he should know that!
    With the toe of his boot, Wade closed the dishwasher door and stepped into its space. “I’m sorry,” he said, sliding his arms around her, “I didn’t mean to make light of it. I know how precarious a paraplegic’s health is.”
    Pressing her cheek to the satiny fabric of his black shirt, she said, “Last time he caught a cold, he spent a month in the hospital—a week of it in Intensive Care.”
    “When was that?”
    She shrugged and took a step back, but not so far that she broke the embrace. “Last year, around this time.” She paused. “And tonight he sat out there for hours in that cold wind!”
    “You brought him a parka, gloves.” He touched the tip of her nose. “He didn’t like it much, but he let you wrap a scarf around his neck, too.”
    Turning slightly, Patrice said, “I should’ve made him go inside. Should’ve turned out the porch light to signal ‘Halloween is over at this house.’ Should’ve—”
    “I don’t know Gus very well,” Wade interrupted, “but something tells me nothing short of a hurricane would have sent him inside.”
    She sighed.
    “Looked to me like he was having the time of his life.”
    Another sigh. “I suppose,” she said. “Still…” Then she straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. “Thanks, Wade, for understanding. You’re a—”
    He pressed a forefinger over her lips, silencing her. “Don’t let the costume fool you,” he said. “I’m no hero.”
    She forced a grin. “I wasn’t going to call you a hero.”
    His brows rose slightly. “Oh, really. What, then?”
    Truth was, she had intended to say exactly that! She searched her mind for another word that would fit into the sentence she’d constructed. “I was about to say you’re a really sweet guy.”
    He stared into her face for what seemed like a full minute, brow furrowed, mouth taut, hazel eyes glittering with…
    With what? Patrice wondered. She’d say…self-loathing, except, what reason would anyone as wonderful as Wade have to feel that?
    “So where do you keep the thermometer?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts.
    She