by Rissa Brahm
Huh. The good doctor might really be human after all…
She shifted, both heels now on the swirly brown-and-green lobby carpet. “Truth?” She leaned in too. “I was scared shitless up there. And I’ve had a few incidents in the air. None involving a child, though. And that mother…I was terrified for that poor woman.”
He nodded and sighed as his hands moved to the top of his clean-shaven head again, as if rubbing away the anxiety of the flight—stress she’d sworn hadn’t hit him at all. Then he returned his hands to his lap. “You know, it wouldn’t have gone down as well without you there, by my side.”
“Thanks. That’s nice of you to say…but it’s a fact—that the boy wouldn’t be okay if you weren’t on that flight.”
“The episode might not have happened at all if I wasn’t on that flight…I’m the one who gave the kid my shrimp dinner—without the mother being present. It was stupid of me. Absolutely moronic.”
Though it was probably not the smartest move, it was well meaning. He seemed well meaning, all the way around. Maybe he hadn’t been out to impress? A true Good Samaritan? “Well, the mother did say it had never happened before, so she would’ve probably said yes if she had been there. And…I didn’t serve it to anyone else. Neither did Leena—she said there were only beef and chicken takers in first class. So maybe the shrimp was bad…in which case, it falls on the airline.”
“Possible. But it wasn’t his stomach. But I noticed Leena saved the shrimp leftovers in a bag for the authorities, so it’ll be examined anyway.”
“Right.” She shifted her focus to the papers. “So…though a drink sounds good, we’ve still got this to deal with in now less than two hours’ time.” She motioned to the stack. “Should probably crush it out before the great Boise Inn bar, huh?”
He smirked and nodded, then shook his head. “Can’t. I’m king of paperwork, but not even I can get through this stack without a little liquid relaxation. Not after that.”
He took his glasses off—God, she hadn’t realized how hot he looked with or without…hush, Pree!—and then he rubbed his eyes. She licked her lips again as he returned the dark frames to his face.
A handsome, regal, kind face. And subtly sexy.
He slapped his hands to his thighs, knocking her out of her not-subtle daze, flaring her cheeks up to wildfire temps. He seemed to graciously ignore her auto response by redirecting his gorgeous amber gaze to the infamous papers again, and then scooted forward on the chair in preparation to stand. But before he rose, he paused a beat. “Seriously, though, Preeya, I predict I’d need not just one glass but an entire bottle of something strong if you weren’t with me up there. You really do have a head for emergency situations. The kid wouldn’t have made it”—he retargeted her eyes with dire sincerity—“if it were just me, alone up there. Leena, Amanda…” He shook his head. “There’s not a doubt in my mind.” He gave a solid nod for emphasis while holding her gaze for another beat, then he stood up, steady, strong, towering over her while she stayed seated.
She licked her lips as a flood of deep…something—maybe pride?—filled and warmed her chest. His sincere words and soft smile froze her up. Speechless. And his arrogance all gone—melted away like black ice on a city street, unsure if it had even been there to start with.
He cleared his throat and held his hand out to her. “One drink. Join me. Then the forms. Please? Drinking alone…it just isn’t my style.”
She licked her cracked, dried lips a third time. A drink—and absolutely nothing else—was justified. Her shoulders, tight, her neck, cramped. Yes, she could for sure use some liquid relaxation. And a toast between them, maybe? Not to celebrate the Great Potato, but a shared victory in the sky.
She nodded as she collected her things. “If you’re buying…okay.” She snickered and took his hand. And it took her aback, how big and rough his hand was for a doctor, and how firm and dry and warm. She swallowed as she stood with his help. Meeting his gaze, she blinked a thanks, then pulled her hand away…to grasp the unruly handle of her roller bag. “It has been a rough, well, twenty-four hours, really.”
“A rough twenty-four, huh?” he asked with a wink in his voice as he collected the huge pile of papers in his arms and then turned toward the “bar.”
She nodded, remembering he’d been witness to her exit with Josh in the taxi line, but she gave him no reply. They’d be fellow saviors decompressing together, but nothing more, no need to share backstories. She needed to keep focused. On herself. By herself. For the foreseeable future. Searing amber eyes aside.
CHAPTER 10
She was ready to hit the bar when a phone buzzed. Her heart sank. Amy.
But her screen showed blank. It was his phone from that awesome murse of his.
He grunted and put the papers back down on the table. He grabbed then glanced at his old-as-dirt flip phone. “Hey, I’ll just be a minute. It’s my sister,” he explained without her asking. “Meet you inside?”
“Sure thing.” But as her words left her lips, a skeptical surge shot up her back.
Sister, right. Why it mattered, she didn’t know, but the warmth in her chest had cooled a bit, and fast.
A drink. Get the drink. But get the papers first.
She spun around, grabbed the pile without him noticing, and left him there in the lobby to start without him at the bar.
*
Stacy kept him on the call for too long, insisting on hearing the entire in-flight saga.
He didn’t cut her off, wasn’t about to tell her he had someone waiting for him. A woman. No, he couldn’t say the words out loud, even. An innocent drink or not, he wasn’t even going there with his sister. Stacy’s response would’ve made him run away from the bar as fast as his long-ass legs would carry him.
He cleared his throat as he went to gather up the papers. Gone? Pretty sure they were the only two souls in the hotel, he shrugged and headed to meet Preeya and assumedly the paperwork at the pathetic excuse for a bar.
He laughed out loud as he entered the rustic little lounge—Preeya was on a bar stool waving wildly. She called his name to be sure he saw her, even with no one else around except for the bartender. The three empty shot glasses in front of her—and the pile of forms on a table behind her—helped explain the shift in his in-flight medical assistant’s mood. She was petite but muscular—no skinny waif, for certain. Still, one shot would animate someone her size in that short a time, let alone three shots.
He nodded and continued toward her.
“Dr. Ben, over here!” Okay, got it. “Ben!” He smirked at the bartender and waved at them both.
Ben. Hmm. How strange it was to hear his first name spoken out loud. Beyond the brief conversations with Stanton and his sister, he hadn’t had anyone call him Ben in just over a year. He was Dr. Trainer abroad and to staff and patients. And he liked the clinical objectivity. He liked not being “Ben” to anyone for a while.
Also strange and out of character for him was that he’d made it a point to this stranger—even before she assisted him in saving a life today—that she call him Ben.
“Earth to Ben…or more like Boise to Ben.” She laughed. “Did you?”
“Sorry. Did I…what?”
“Want a double or just a wimpy single shot, good doctor?”
He smiled then looked at the bartender instead of at her damned bewitching eyes. “A double, please.” Then he mustered the strength to return her gaze. “Why not? I’m game. Back in the day, I passed my exams on no sleep and a case of beer,” he lied. Her disbelieving glance and single raised brow said she saw right through him. “Okay, so no, I haven’t ever done that.” He shook his head and laughed. “But I can sure as hell finish this small stack of documentation on a double shot. Well…pretty damn sure.” He winked at her. Jesus, man…what is with you?
“I actually finished most of the pile while you were on your call. There are a few I can’t do—medical professionals only—but the rest wasn’t too bad at all.”
> Huh—gorgeous and diligent.
Ben, man, stop. And keep cool.
Right. He swallowed then grabbed the pile, checked for surface spillage on the bar top, and seeing none, plopped the papers down and hopped up onto a stool.
“Wow, you really attacked this. Was my call that long?” he asked, thumbing through the stack as the bartender set a double shot in front of him.
“Yeah, or I work fast. Or both,” she said through a giggle and a wink. “I hadn’t realized how bad I needed a drink…which I used as the carrot to finish the papers. But sorry I didn’t wait for you.”
He nodded and raised his drink to her. “No worries, and cheers,” then he threw it back and grunted as the icy-hot vodka poured through him.
She giggled, a next shot in her hand, gotten as if by magic. She lifted her glass. “To shrimp safety!” then pounded the drink back.
He cracked up then, his laugh deeper and louder than he’d heard it in…so long. The drink, the flight, the outlet…the company. “Yes, to safe shrimp.”
Then she broke out laughing, for certain from the fourth shot hitting her already saturated bloodstream, because what he said just wasn’t that funny. But it didn’t matter. This, whatever this was, felt really…good.
Preeya wound down then grinned, wide-eyed. God, those eyes, just too much. “So, how’s the…sister?”
“Oh, she’s fine, thanks. Your family?”
She scoffed. “My family…” She pulled out a fast, wide smile—but her sarcasm and sadness weren’t missed. “They’re all good. Thanks.”
A buzzing noise from the bar counter stole their attentions.
Her phone this time.
“Gotta take this.”
He nodded. “Of course.”
He couldn’t help but follow her with his eyes until she was out of sight. He shook his head, then refocused on the paperwork that needed his signatures. Which he needed to do before drinking another drop. He moved off the bar stool and took the papers back down to the clean two-top table.
And, God, what had he even been thinking? Official medical papers at a bar counter? Jesus. He couldn’t risk anything at this point. Any signature he put down professionally should be from a clean and sober state. The last thing he needed was for this woman, as beautiful and as sweet as she seemed, to make mention that he’d downed a double shot at 4:00 p.m. He really shouldn’t even be in the bar with the documents—he could’ve done them in the lobby.
The bartender cleared his throat. “Another double for you, Doctor?”
The loose and limber feeling taking over his body felt awesome. And yes, he wanted another double—more loose and slack and ease.
But maybe it wasn’t the shot that he craved. “In a few minutes, I think. Just gotta get through these signatures.”
*
“I’m so sorry. God, can you believe the timing of this shit?” she said to Amy over the semi-clear connection.
“Come on, Pree! There’s not even some four-connection flight you can catch?”
“No, sweetie. I tried everything, believe me. The soonest I can get out of here is tomorrow afternoon. By the time I get into PV, you’ll have already left for your honeymoon cruise.”
Silence. Then a whimper. “Well,” she sniveled, no longer holding back tears, “at least the boy’s okay. I guess if my main bridesmaid’s gonna miss my wedding, it better be to save some kid’s life.” Amy laughed through her emotion.
“Hey, I can already picture how dream-come-true perfect you’ll be tomorrow, going down that aisle, and since I’m picturing it, it’s like I’m already there. Always, right?”
“Always…” she blubbered into the phone.
“I love you, Ame. Just focus on your day, your wedding, and your honeymoon!” she said, trying to lighten the mood.
“Okay, Pree. Love you, too.”
“Call if you need. I’m stuck here in hell, I mean, in Boise,” she said through her forced laughter, though it was turning out to be not so hellish at all. “Need to vent or bitch about your sister, your mother, whoever, whatever, I’m here—your remote bridesmaid service…okay?”
“Yes, okay. Bye, Pree,” Amy whispered, then ended the call.
Preeya sighed. Amy’d been more understanding, yet more disappointed than angry—which kind of hurt worse—than Preeya had expected. Her heart sunk. But she knew Amy’d be fine. No one was more supportive than Darren. She’d be in good hands. Amy’s in very good hands.
And that thought sent a tinge of regret up her neck. Maybe some jealousy to go with it? She could have had that steady support. With Evan. If she hadn’t backed out, quit him for the possibility of someone or something better. Better? Like quick-time Josh? Jesus.
She quickly shoved that entire topic back down deep. She couldn’t even think on it. She’d do as she’d planned, put it all off until she got down to Vallarta, to the sun and beach.
Oh, God…alone.
But not alone yet. Ben and more shots—tequila, not Josh-night vodka—awaited her. A safe-enough distraction to pass the time. Yeah, she could work with Dr. Ben for the next few hours, then she’d crash hard in an adequate bed in a semi-decent hotel room in this Boise Inn. Worlds better than last night. She shuddered. Yeah, she’d have no trouble falling asleep tonight. Adding today’s adrenaline rush from the flight and the start to a good tequila buzz, she’d crash good and hard, no doubt.
*
He looked up from signing the last form, and there she was.
“Ready? Shots are waiting,” she said anxiously.
He smiled. “Yeah, almost.” He scratched out his signature at the bottom of the current page and flipped to the next. “Hey, so, out of curiosity, how extensive is a flight attendant’s medical training, really?” Leena, the head flight attendant, had been so flustered it just made him wonder. While on the other hand, Preeya had been so grounded, focused, capable, “on it.”
“The basics, of course. And annual re-certs. But, you know, we don’t have medical incidents too often.” She knocked on the wooden bar counter. “Take Leena. She’s been an FA for some twenty years, and this was her first major incident.” She paused in thought. “And here I thought I was getting into the most chill and fun job ever.” She snorted. “After pre-med undergrad and then a year in the MD Program at Stanford, I dropped out. Just too much serious for me.”
“Wow.” He nodded slowly while processing this new information. A new side to this intriguing woman. “Huh.” He collected the forms from the table. “And now…a flight attendant?”
No answer. Just a quick glance before she turned to the bar for her next shot, which had actually been his next shot, and without waiting for him to join her, she shrugged and slammed the liquid back.
The sudden shift in her mood, undeniable.
Maybe from his question?
Yes, dumbass.
Noted.
“It’s four thirty and the Jetta Air rep will be back at five. Let me go bring these docs to the front desk, then I’ll resume the shot-a-thon.” He pushed his chair back and stood, holding the pile of papers to his chest. Keeping the clear separation between the docs and the liquor—while giving Preeya some space and time to unwind again—were both good ideas.
He glanced at her and smirked as she brought yet another shot to her lips.
She jutted out her chin. “Hey, I’m not on the clock,” she blurted defensively.
“I’m not…saying anything. I’ll, uh, be back to join you…if there’s any left.”
Through his teasing laughter she glared at him for a beat, then pursed her lips. He’d surprised her with his flippant comment. She clearly didn’t know how to take him. “You know flight attendants only get paid when the doors are closed and the plane engines are on?”
“I did not know that.” She was getting sloshed.
And he was getting anxious and hot and excited and short of breath. “Be back.”
*
He made his way to the front desk counter where the young cle
rk stood smiling—a wide, toothy smile. Was she eyeing him? God, she must have been no older than twenty. Maybe younger? Before he’d left his private practice after Jamie got sick, he’d had pediatric patients in this girl’s demographic. “May I have a large envelope, miss?”
“Sure,” she said, licking her light-pink lip-glossed lips at him. “Here you are.” She slipped him a brown envelope and tilted her head as if waiting for more.
“Thank you.” Avoiding eye contact, he quickly put the forms inside, clasped it, and asked, “Clear tape?”
“Here you go.” Her right eye twitched.
Was that an attempted wink? Ugh.
She placed a tape dispenser on the counter, keeping her hand on it so that when he pulled it to him, their fingers touched. Her brows lifted while his furrowed. And his hand retreated that instant.
“Uh, excuse me, please. I’ll be right back…thanks.” And he beelined to the bar.
Preeya’s back was to him as he approached. “Hey…”
She turned to him, the back of her hand moving across her mouth. “Sorry, I had to do it. But you’ll catch up,” she said, then smiled with a glint of mischief in her eyes.
He shook his head at her, then got to his point. “Here. I need you to take this to the front desk. Please.”
“But you were just there…”
“Yeah, but it’s safer if you do it.”
She squinted at him, obviously wanting more detail.
“The desk clerk…she’s a baby. And she’s absolutely hitting on me. Just go for me, explain who’s picking it up, and when. I’m literally nauseous right now. I can’t have a prepubescent girl giving me any type of looks…God.” Even though there were no other guests in the place to play witness, he was sure there were cameras in the hotel lobby. Yes, the court case had made him more than paranoid, but his medical license was already on the line and he couldn’t possibly handle any more scandal.
She smirked, then took the envelope. “Okay, but wait for me on that drink.”
“Oh, like you waited for me?” he busted her back. Where was his bold new attitude coming from? The prior shots?
