Page 9 of Crimson Love

Amelia sets her diet soda on the table and leans forward. “It means she ran him over, and they both ended up on the cold, hard floor. Word is, Jett popped a few stitches when Lennon landed on top of him. Rob from the grounds crew told me he heard from Sibil—not the Sibil in accounting, the one in the kitchen—that Jett had to go back to the hospital.”

I gasp and drop my pickle. “He did?”

Amelia shrugs and talks around the carrot she just took a bite of. “Yep.”

Dot reaches over and pats my hand. “I didn’t hear the part about him going back to the hospital, but I did hear from someone in the laundry room that he stitched himself back up. I think he was in special forces or something dangerous like that. Maybe he’s used to it? I bet he’s been snipered a time or three by now. I doubt this organ thing is a big deal.”

“Oooh.” Amelia’s eyes widen with delight. “I bet that happened somewhere in the desert.”

My face falls to my hands where I rub my temples. “This is horrible. I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“Wait a second.” Blake finally wakes up enough to lean forward and points a finger to Amelia, Dot, and back to Amelia again. “There’s no way that’s true. Do you two even pay attention to current events or American history? And it’s not snipered, it’s sniped. No one is getting sniped very often these days and stitches themselves up. I don’t buy that for a second. I might not know much, but even I know that.”

Blake is right.

“It could happen,” Amelia bites back at Blake before she turns to me. “Not that this is as big of a deal as Jett Cross popping his stitches, but I also heard everyone saw your panties. Just saying.”

“Shit,” I mutter and shut the box holding my lunch and dinner. My stomach is officially sour. My appetite has been ruined for the rest of my life.

Felicity’s fork hits her plate, and she leans over to give my hand a pat. “Now, now, I’m sure Ms. Madison’s brother is just fine. I still have contacts at the mortuary who give me the heads up every time they get new business. If there were a new project, I’d know about it—especially if it were Mr. Cross. I’m almost sure he isn’t dead.”

I turn to Felicity. “Almost doesn’t make me feel better.”

She gazes into my eyes, and I can tell she’s genuine even though it still doesn’t calm my fears. “I’m practically positive.”

“Almost sure and practically positive ... great.” I stand, grab my lunch, and head straight to the refrigerator. “I need to know if he’s okay. I’ll never forgive myself if I hurt someone, especially someone who just had a life-saving surgery.”

“Where are you going?” Dot asks.

“You should call the hospital,” Amelia suggests. “Ask if he’s been submitted.”

“Admitted,” Blake corrects her. “And, hello, have you ever heard of privacy laws? They’re not going to tell her if he’s there or if he’s dead.”

Felicity continues to try to be the voice of reason. “No one died. I have a pulse when it comes to dead people in town. I would know.”

None of this makes me feel better.

“Well, I have a pulse on the guests at the manor. I’m going straight to the source,” I say.

“You’re going to ask Mr. Donnelly?” Felicity asks.

I hold my hands out low in front of me like I’m trying to calm the crowd instead of my insides which are freaking the heck out. “No, I’m not going to bother Mr. Donnelly. I’m sure he’s with Harlow. I’m going to check on Jett myself.”

Dot’s eyes widen like she thinks that’s a bad idea.

Blake frowns. “Maybe you should just leave it alone. You’ll know eventually.”

I shake my head. “I’ll go to the café and get him a bowl of soup. He needs to eat, right?”

Felicity’s face bunches up like she just heard the worst idea ever.

Amelia’s smile, on the other hand, lights up the room. “Can I come with you? I heard he’s hot. Like tall, dark, and sexy. It would be a shame if you killed him.”

Well, that’s the only thing they’ve said that I can confirm since I walked into the employee lounge.

Still, there’s no way I’m letting Amelia come with me. “No. I’m going to check on him, let him know I’m here if he needs anything, and apologize again for what happened. By the way, I did not lay anyone out, and I’m positive no one saw my panties. We might’ve been on the floor, but I still had my wits about me enough to keep my legs together.”

Blake pushes himself to his feet slowly and yawns. “Will someone keep me in the loop? I’ve got another five miles in the woods this afternoon. I hope this doesn’t become a normal thing. I’m not cut out for this. I’m dining room material.”