Saving You Saving Me (You & Me Trilogy) Page 3

  “No boyfriend?” Collins McGregor asked. He was serious.

  A sudden shiver went down my spine, and I involuntarily trembled. I didn’t know what it was, but it was a feeling of fear and excitement at the same time. I shook my head. “Mr. Collins McGregor, this is getting too personal. And I’m afraid I’ve already missed most if not all of my next class. I have to get going.”

  “I apologize,” he said, finally looking a little embarrassed. “I’ll let you go, but…” he handed me his card. “I’m sorry if I came across sounding too personal, Miss Sullivan, but you seem to have drawn some conclusions about me already, as I’ve drawn of you. If you’d care to know, all you have to do is call or email me.” He smiled shyly then, a smile that took me completely by surprise with how sweet and adorable he looked, younger even, like a little wavy blonde haired boy. Then he walked off.

  I looked down at his card:

  Collins McGregor, OWNER – The Collins Companies

  Then in his handwriting in neat straight lines was his cell phone number.

  This whole surreal meeting, this whole day was made real with Collins McGregor’s card and phone number to prove it.

  Chapter 4

  I held onto the memory of beautiful Collins McGregor’s face as I slid the key into our white Nantucket-style cottage house. It was the one thing I loved about moving to Newport Beach, California, five years ago when Dad got transferred to head up a medium size church in Newport Beach. According to him, it was something of a miracle, especially after what happened at his old church in the small town of Victorville, California - an incident that involved me and Billy Jackson when I had just turned 13 and Billy, was, well, 14, drunk, and a walking rage of hormones.

  My face burned at the memory of the incident, Dad’s face as he turned white hot with anger, and the deep shame I felt after he caught us. Ever since then, Dad had been distant from me, and I have vowed to work extra hard to repair my image as a Pastor’s kid, especially as the somewhat famous Pastor Samuel Sullivan’s oldest daughter.

  The white wood door opened without a creak as I pushed my way into our comfortable, but immaculate house. “Mom!” I cried. “You home?” I didn’t see her old white BMW in the driveway. She must have picked up Nydia and had taken her with her to the store. Getting a glass from the cabinet, I opened our refrigerator and pulled out the milk carton and poured. Only a little drip of milk poured out. They must have gone grocery shopping. With a growing five-year-old and a healthy teenager, our house always had milk in the refrigerator. It was the one thing my mother insisted on.

  It was the one thing Mom was good at as a mom, making sure we had plenty of milk in the refrigerator. Other than that, I guess I got lucky with how I managed to grow up somewhat normal and get good grades, have dreams of going to college…

  Then I noticed the dining room. Immaculate, as always, but I noticed the ring of a glass left on the table, a telltale sign, Mom had been drinking all morning long. And it wasn’t just cocktails. She had been touching the hard stuff.

  “Nydia!” I cried, running to her room and checking all the other rooms throughout. “Where are you?”

  I ran outside to our tidied backyard where there was a swing set, a small flower garden, and a view of the canyons behind our house. Dad had spent a year fixing up the old cottage when we bought it just so we could have that view. A fixer-upper that had gone into foreclosure, we were fortunate to be able to snatch the little cottage for Dad’s pastor salary in the expensive area of Newport and Costa Mesa. After Dad had finished fixing up the place with help from some of the men from church, the cottage was just as nice or nicer than the other homes on the same street.

  “Mom?” I called around the corner of the backyard to the patio area with a gazebo. Maybe she had decided to spend the day reading a book out there while watching Nydia play. Please God, let that be the case instead of what I feared was probably true. I rounded the corner and she wasn’t there in the gazebo.

  My fear turned to dread as my phone started ringing. I knew it was Dad because of my caller ID. It had been years since I’d been close to Dad, ever since the incident with Billy. I don’t know how I can ever live that down or move past it, but it’s haunted my relationship with Dad, and I don’t think he’ll ever recover from it. “Hello,” I answered. “Dad?”

  “Sam,” it was without warmth and had an authoritative and serious tone. “Where’s your mother?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I came home and she wasn’t here.”

  “Has she been drinking again?” he asked, disgusted.

  “I, um…”

  “That sounds like a ‘yes’,” he said before he let out a loud sigh. “One of these days she’s going to drink herself to death.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, sounding scared. I was worried for Mom, and I was instantly fearful of hearing Dad’s strong disapproving voice.

  “I tried calling her cell, but she’s not picking up,” he said.

  “Shall we call the police?” I asked.

  “No, she’s not a missing person,” Dad said. “Plus I don’t want to answer to the police why Pastor Sullivan’s wife was out drunk.”

  “Dad, I’m worried about her.”

  “Me, too, Sam, but she’s a grown woman. She should know better.” He paused before he asked in a voice laced with anger. “Is Nydia with her?”

  “I couldn’t find Nydia at home,” I said.

  “Holy…that woman! Doesn’t even have the sense to know not to drink and drive. Now she’s endangering your little sister’s life, too.”

  “Dad, we have to find her. Where are you?” I calmly asked.

  “I’m stuck in a conference in San Francisco that I’m speaking at. I can’t get home until this evening.” There was a pause. “I can’t tell them I’m canceling just so I can go home to find my drunken wife. Maybe I can let Michael know, and he can help you track down your mother before she gets herself and Nydia killed.”

  “No, Dad, I can find Mom. No need to let Michael know. No one from church.”

  “Just in case, here’s Michael’s number. Do you have a pen?”

  I grabbed one from the kitchen counter. Then I looked for a piece of paper that I could jot down the number on. The state I was in, I couldn’t memorize the number if my life depended on it, although that was usually what I did – memorize phone numbers easily. I fumbled with my pockets and found the card Collins McGregor had given me.

  I turned it on its back and wrote down the number for Michael, the junior pastor at Dad’s church.

  After I hung up the phone, I looked at Michael’s number and thought about calling him. He was nice enough, with his brown overgrown hair and brown eyes. Even keeled, attractive in an academic nerdy way, and young for a Pastor at twenty-three, the teen girls and young women at church always giggled when he was around. Throughout the years, he and I had worked together on the youth program at church, and while we’ve been friends, I always sensed he liked me, despite his being older. It was something I wanted neither to pursue nor encourage.

  I didn’t know if I could let him know about Mom, though. Not that he seemed like the gossipy kind, but having been burned at our previous church after the Billy Incident, I couldn’t trust anyone knowing about any of our family problems. Part of the reason why Mom drank so heavily was because of it.

  No, I couldn’t let anyone who knew Mom or Dad to know. I turned Collins McGregor’s card over and was looking at his handwritten cell phone number. He had said to call him, if I cared to know why he was asking me about whether or not I had a boyfriend. What a way to get a girl to call you, right, Mr. Hot Bod and Getting Under My Skin.

  So I called him.

  Chapter 5

  “Hello?” Collins McGregor asked.

  “Mr. McGregor,” I said, nervously. “It’s me, Sam Sullivan.”

  “I know,” Collins McGregor’s voice said, smooth as velvet and a little shy. “I didn’t think you would call me.”

  “Well, I
’m curious about where you were going with all those questions back at school, but I have another reason to call, too.”

  “Hold on a second,” he said. “I’m in a middle of a meeting. Can I call you back in a few minutes?”

  “Sure,” I said, a little unsure if I should be calling Collins McGregor about my problems. I mean, he was probably so busy, he didn’t have the time to even eat.

  “Good, Sam,” Collins McGregor said. “I’ve canceled all my appointments. I just need to get through this meeting, then we can talk.”

  “Here’s my number…” I started to say, but he cut me off.

  “I have it already, Sam. Five minutes to wrap up this meeting, and I’m all yours,” he said with a hint of amusement.

  Despite how anxious I felt about Mom and Nydia, I felt his voice caress me with the “I’m all yours,” and I got an electrifying thrill that ran down my back.

  What was I thinking? Collins McGregor probably thought I had called him for one thing and one thing only…

  My cell phone rang, and the Caller ID was unlisted. I picked up. “Hi,” I said.

  “Hi,” and I heard a smile at the other end. “Now Miss Sullivan…can you tell me why you called me?”

  “I’m sorry you had to cancel your meetings,” I said. “But I didn’t know where to turn.”

  There was a change in tone, from amusement to concern. “Don’t worry about the meetings. How are you doing? What can I help you with?”

  “I figure if there’s anyone who would know anything about security, it would be someone like you,” I said.

  “Yes?” He asked. “Where are you? Are you in any danger?”

  “No, no, I’m fine. I just need your help in tracking someone who’s gone missing.”

  There was a pause, and my heart began pounding. What if Collins McGregor didn’t want to help? What if he thought I was some kind of imposition?

  “Stay where you are,” he said, “I’ll come find you.”

  “No, I’m fine. My mother is the one. I can’t find her, and she’s not picking up.”

  “Sam, don’t worry, my office isn’t that far away. I’ll be at your house shortly.” Then he hung up.

  He knew where I lived? If it wasn’t for me knowing he was a mega mogul and probably had his security team check out anyone he gave his personal phone number to, I’d find the fact Mr. Hot Bod and Sexy knowing where I live pretty stalker-like. But wasn’t that why I had called him?

  I went to my room, threw my school bag into my large worn but plush yellow armchair, and went to my closet. My room had the appearance of normalcy – white four poster queen size bed, white furniture, sliding mirror closet, comfortable yellow and white checked duvet. Cozy and comfortable, that was how my room looked like. I unbuttoned my skirt and let it fall to the ground. Padding my way to my closet, I pulled out a pair of folded stretched skinny jeans and shimmied my way in. Next I put on a pair of socks and black converse. I kept my blouse on and decided to pull my hair up into a ponytail. Next I washed my face, put on some lotion, lip gloss, and mascara. I wasn’t dressing up for Collins McGregor. I wanted to look presentable and fresh, I told myself. Heck, who was I kidding? I brushed my teeth, too.

  When I was done, I checked my phone for missed messages. No messages from Dad or Mom, but there was one from Collins McGregor.

  Left a minute ago.

  I listened to it while I put on a navy jacket.

  “Hi Sam,” the voicemail said. “I made it to your house and am standing in front of your door.”

  Oh crap! He was waiting outside. I ran and grabbed my purse from my chair and went to open the door after checking the window. Yup, Collins McGregor was standing in front, looking just as Adonis-like as before. Why was I so nervous?

  I opened the door. “Sorry to make you wait, come on in.”

  He looked unsure at first, but decided to follow me in. “You’ve changed.”

  “I didn’t want another incident with my skirt flying up, you know,” I said blushing but smiling.

  “No, you most certainly do not want that happening again,” Collins McGregor said, the corners of his mouth lifting into amusement. He leaned his hip against the back of the sofa and looked at me, from head to toe with those amazingly intense icy blue eyes. “I like your hair up like that,” he finally said.

  “Uh, thanks,” I said. “And I like you without your tie.”

  “You do, do you?” he said with that smirky smile. It was the kind of smile that looked like a prelude to a growl.

  Whoa, I shook my head slightly. What is with Collins McGregor who could affect me this way? I decided to get down to business.

  “Um, my mother, she’s probably driving around right now with my little sister.”

  “And you’re worried about that…why?” Collins McGregor asked.

  “I’m not sure if she is driving around, but if she is…I’m worried about her state. She’s not in the condition to be driving, which is why I didn’t call the police to find her.”

  “So you called me,” Collins McGregor said. “I see. You figured I would know how to find your mother, track her down.”

  “She’s not picking up her phone,” I said.

  “Do you think she will have it on her?” Collins asked.

  “I’m hoping she does.”

  “Good line of thinking, Sam,” Collins said, cocking his head to one side.

  “You can track her down, can you?” I asked a little anxiously.

  “How do you think I found you here?”

  “You mean you didn’t know before what the address to my house was?”

  “No,” Collins said. “I tracked it from your phone. We’ll do the same thing with your mother. All I need is your Mother’s phone number…”

  I gave him the number, and he was immediately on the phone, calling someone. “Howard, I need you to do a trace. The number’s…”

  I walked away, over to the kitchen where I pulled out a glass from the cupboard and turned around. Collins was standing there, his Blackberry in his hand. Surprised, I nearly dropped my glass, but Collins rushed over to me, bent down and caught the glass before he fell to the floor. I was stunned, as Collins McGregor stood back up and calmly placed the glass on the kitchen counter.

  “Wow,” I said, finally able to find my tongue. “You’re very well-coordinated.” Big understatement.

  “I work out a lot, a habit I picked up growing up on the streets and having to be ready to fight,” Collins said. “Besides it helps relieve stress, and I like the release.”

  My heart fell, remembering how I’d accused him of growing up with a silver spoon in his mouth. I blushed. “You grew up on the streets?”

  Collins McGregor laughed…a throaty deep laugh that sounded like a growl. “You look as though you’re shocked,” he said. “I had a rough beginning up to my adolescence. But that kind of hunger is what made me where I am today.” He noticed my blush because he smiled, a sweet gentle smile. “Nice house you have here,” he said. “Very family-friendly.” He noticed Nydia’s dollhouse in one corner, and the family photos lined up on top of the fireplace mantel.

  “Um, I was about to ask you if you’d like something to drink.”

  “What do you have?” he asked.

  I went to the fridge and opened it. I felt him walk up behind me, peering over my head and shoulders. My back stiffened as he stood barely an inch away. His presence was so strong, I felt there wasn’t any distance between us. “Lots to choose from,” I said. Luckily our refrigerator was well-stocked with tomato juice, lime juice, orange juice, cranberry juice, pineapple juice, sodas, and just about anything Mom can make cocktails out of.

  He reached over my head to get a can of pineapple juice. “Your refrigerator looks like the mini-bar in a hotel room,” Collins said matter-of-factly.

  I blushed and turned around, about to tell him about Mom, but found my nose against his broad chest. He wasn’t wearing a tie, and his shirt was unbuttoned down to the third hole, giving me a v
iew of well-defined tanned skin and muscles. For a moment everything stopped, and I couldn’t breathe. With my nose to his chest, I could tell his breathing slowed, too. I wanted to turn my head so I could rest my cheeks against his chest, to feel him breathe. His shirt was so soft, silky even, and he smelled so nice.

  I hadn’t realized I had my cheeks against his chest, until I felt his hand on the small of my back. His other arm snaked gently around my waist, pulling me into a hug. It felt so good to be in Collins McGregor’s strong arms, held tightly like this. I did not know how long we were standing like this until I heard the phone ring.

  “Hello,” Collins McGregor said. “You’ve found her? Good, where is she? Okay, I’ll head over there.”

  I looked up expectedly and asked, “Did they find Mom and Nydia?”

  “Yes,” Collins McGregor said, taking my hand and leading me out of the kitchen. “We’ll take my car and head out to get her.”

  And just like that, we were on Pacific Coast Highway heading in the direction of Dad’s church. We got there, and there in the parking lot was Mom’s car with her in it.

  “Mom!” I cried, tapping on the film-covered driver’s side window. I peered closer for a closer look. Mom was asleep. From outside, I could see Nydia sitting in the back in her booster seat. I tapped again, and Nydia began jumping up and down in her restrained seat. I could see Mom’s head jerk up and then she turned it around to look at me sleepily. At the sight of me and Collins McGregor together, her eyes opened, and she opened the door, nearly tumbling out.

  “Oh Sam,” she cried. “What are you doing here?”

  Her green eyes darted between me and Collins McGregor.

  “Mom,” I leaned into her ears and whispered. “You’ve been drinking. You shouldn’t have been driving.”

  “I just wanted to come here, visit your father’s church. It isn’t too far from home,” Mom said almost slurring her words, looking very sad and miserable.

  “But you had too much to drink. You shouldn’t have driven and picked up Nydia this way.” I instantly felt guilty, knowing Nydia had asked if I could have picked her up instead of Mom. But Mom should have known better. “Mom,” I said gently. “If you ever drink far too much to drive, call me and I’ll pick up Nydia. I’ll drop what I’m doing and come get her. I don’t want you driving like this.” I patted Mom’s arm. “You’re endangering Nydia, too.” I took a deep breath biting back the harsh words I would have let loose on Mom, had Collins McGregor not been a few feet away. “How long have you been here?”