Bachelor Protector. Julianna Morris

now he was relying on a bulldog Chicago law firm to protect him.

      But no matter what happened, nothing would take away the pain those construction workers had suffered or the fear their families had experienced as they’d waited for them to be found.

       CHAPTER THREE

      WHEN TYLER GOT BACK to the suite, he was relieved to see his brother had changed his clothes and was out in the garden.

      Needing to accomplish something, he went inside and rang the rehab center to request recommendations for Nathan’s treatment.

      “I can give information to your brother, but not to you. Privacy laws are very strict,” Dr. Chin explained.

      Tyler gritted his teeth. “But you have talked to me, a dozen or more times since he went into rehab.”

      “Yes, but the release he signed has expired. Is Nathan there? He could give me permission. At the very least, I’d like to know how he’s doing.”

      “Just a moment.” Tyler went into the garden and held the phone out to his brother. “Dr. Chin would like to speak with you.”

      “Maybe tomorrow.”

      “He’s concerned about your health,” Tyler said tightly. “And he left a staff meeting to take my call. Please do him the courtesy of listening to what he has to say.”

      Nathan simply hunched his shoulders.

      Tyler put the phone to his ear again. “I’m sorry, Doctor, my brother is being a jackass.” Even as he said it, he remembered Sarah calling him the same thing.

      Damnation, how had she gotten into his head?

      “I’m sorry to hear that,” Dr. Chin said. “I’ve been thinking, if you can’t convince him to return, perhaps I...um, can send you some general recommendations. Ones that could apply to most of the recovering soldiers I’ve treated.”

      A faint sense of relief went through Tyler. He still thought Nathan should be getting twenty-four-hour care and the doctor appeared to agree, but any guidance would help. “I’d appreciate whatever you can give me.” He provided his email address and disconnected, promising to call again if Nathan’s condition worsened.

      Tyler dropped the phone in his pocket. If he thought confronting his brother would do any good, he’d confront him. But he suspected it wouldn’t, so he asked Nathan to take a walk with him instead. The idea was met with indifference and finally refusal. After that, Tyler suggested a game of chess. Nathan still wasn’t interested.

      Finally Tyler sat in a nearby chair and put a stern, I-mean-business expression on his face. “Have you seen a doctor since coming to Glimmer Creek?”

      Nathan gave him a dirty look. “No. I’m tired of doctors.”

      “I don’t blame you, but I need to know what therapy program you’re supposed to be following and any other information you and Mom have left out. How about that medication they were giving you for the nightmares? Don’t you need refills?”

      His brother shrugged. “It wasn’t helping, so I stopped taking it. Anyway, I can’t talk now. Kurt is showing me the Poppy Gold greenhouses today. I have to find out when he’s coming.”

      Nathan got out his own phone but was obviously waiting for Tyler to leave before making the call.

      Tyler finally went inside, hoping it was a good sign that his brother was carrying his cell. In the hospital and rehab center, Nathan had resisted being in contact with friends or hearing about the affairs of the world. Their mother had been the same, which was why Tyler had figured neither of them would have heard about the incident in Illinois. It helped that this sort of story, without any fatalities, usually wasn’t in the news for long. And as it turned out, they also must have been busy getting settled into Poppy Gold.

      Tyler massaged the muscles at the back of his neck. The past two weeks had been rough. After being treated for his injuries, he’d returned to Italy and finished his work there, only to fly home and discover his family was gone.

      But at least he’d broached the subject of medical care with Nathan, however unproductive the conversation had been. Perhaps they could talk about it as a family and figure out what they were planning from here...because he suspected they weren’t going back to the East Coast any time soon.

      * * *

      KURT FULLERTON PARKED behind his daughter’s catering business for his usual midmorning check to see if she needed anything.

      “Hey, Dad,” Sarah called as he came through the back door. He’d been there earlier, and she still looked so pale and tense that he frowned.

      “What’s up?” he asked.

      “Just busy.”

      Kurt wasn’t sure. Something told him something was going on, but she probably wasn’t going to tell him; she’d inherited his ex-wife’s slender grace and his pigheaded nature.

      Wanting to taking care of his daughter was a tough habit to kick, especially since he hadn’t been around much in her early years. After his wife had run off with another man, he’d brought Sarah home to his parents, convinced that caring for a toddler on an army base was impossible for a single father.

      Now he knew that he’d given up too easily. Lizzie’s actions had embittered him, and for a while he’d become the hardest-living son of a gun in the army. Instead he should have done his best to be a good dad.

      “You hardly ever let me do anything to help around here,” he complained.

      “That isn’t true,” Sarah shot back. “You shop for me every week, and you’re always finding something else to do. And that isn’t even counting all the work you did remodeling the two kitchens. Twice.”

      “That’s nothing. I like being involved and knowing what’s going on.”

      Kurt just wished he’d known more about Sarah’s troubles with her louse of a husband.

      A timer buzzed and Sarah hurried to remove loaves of bread from the ovens.

      Kurt went to the front counter and got a cup of joe, then ambled down the short hallway to the office to visit with Rosemary.

      “Good morning, Kurt. Don’t you want something to go with your coffee?” she asked. “Sarah made poppy-seed muffins earlier. I’ve never seen anyone get as much done as she does.”

      “That’s my girl. But I’d better not indulge, I already had her egg and ham pie when I brought over a batch of green onions from the greenhouse.” He patted his stomach.

      * * *

      ROSEMARY TRIED NOT to laugh. Sarah had confided that her father, along with the rest of the male half of Glimmer Creek, wouldn’t eat anything called quiche, so she’d put a puff pastry crust on top and called it egg pie.

      “Working here is terrible for the waistline,” Rosemary admitted. “I haven’t tasted a single thing that isn’t delicious.”

      “You’ve got a long way to go before you need to worry about your waistline,” Kurt assured her. “Me, I’ve got a linebacker build, unlike my brothers. I’m glad Sarah didn’t get my shape.”

      Kurt’s large family intrigued Rosemary. Nine siblings, and most of them had several children, as well. It was sad that he’d never found someone else after his divorce, but she understood how difficult it was to risk loving again. After all, while her husband’s death had been devastating, the grief had also renewed an old, wrenching sorrow...the loss of her first child.

      One-year-old Kittie had been the light of their lives. Bright and full of fun, she’d brought joy to everyone. It was only after her death from spinal meningitis that they’d moved to Washington, DC, and Richard’s dedication to his career had turned into an