Lost in the Wind

by Calle J. Brookes

  CAINE FOUGHT THE IRRITATION the situation caused and studied his unlikely rescuer. Her scrubs had frogs in spaceships printed on them. The hair was pulled into two braids that hung down over her breasts. There were cartoon characters—frogs—on her glasses. Did she have a pair of glasses for every outfit?

  She looked like a kid playing dress-up, not like the gifted surgical resident he’d learned she was.

  His nursing supervisor had raved about her, the wunderkind of FCGH, with a gifted touch. Several of the staff at Barratt County also worked at Finley Creek. All had spoken highly of her. Nikkie Jean Netorre had been the topic of hospital gossip for half a day.

  Hell, she even had freckles over her nose.

  She couldn’t have been cuter if she’d tried.

  She shifted a bit; the frogs pulled over her chest, revealing more curves beneath the scrubs for just an instant.

  A heat of a different kind burned through him, surprising him at the intensity of it.

  He’d never been attracted to the cute, super-short, girl-next-door, mosquito-irritating, hyperactive type before.

  April, his children’s mother, had been sleek, sophisticated perfection. She had epitomized what he’d always thought he’d been attracted to. Before.

  April had taken off with the fifty-eight-year-old chief of oncology to continue their two-year affair, two days after she’d revealed she was pregnant. And the baby most likely hadn’t been his.

  Caine had lost his taste for women in general after that.

  “So…where exactly am I taking you?”

  “Two miles down Bracker’s Mill Road. The old Larson place.”

  “I’m not familiar with that particular landmark. You just point where I need to turn; I’m on Old McGareth Road, six miles before the turn off to the Deane Ranch Road. A friend in my department recommended the little house to me when it came up for sale. Her husband owned it originally. He kept the land surrounding the house, but sold me the cottage at a great deal. Well, he’s Rafe’s brother. But what are you going to do once I get you there? Someone can drive you where you need to go?”

  “My uncle. He’ll drive. It means getting my children out, but it can’t be helped.”

  She talked; the woman just talked constantly.

  “I didn’t know you had kids.” She shot him a look filled with curiosity. He had the feeling this woman lived by curiosity. And meddling.

  “I have three children.”

  “How many wives?” Another grin, this time.

  “I’m…widowed. I’d prefer you not mention that to your little friend when you call her tonight.”

  He glowered at her. She’d probably talk to his brother’s wife about him for hours. She seemed the type. No doubt she was glued to her cell phone at every opportunity.

  “Girls or boys?”

  “Two boys, one girl.” He wasn’t going to go into detail about his children. He never did. His family was private. They’d had enough of gossip three years ago. He wasn’t about to expose them to more.

  She shot him a wistful look. “Fun.”

  “You don’t have any children.” He remembered that from her file. Too bad; he had no doubt children just loved her. It was no wonder she’d chosen a pediatrics field.

  “No. I’m afraid that’s not in the cards for me. But I like kids. Maybe someday I’ll adopt.”

  “No man in the picture?” The words slipped out, and he cursed himself. He didn’t want to encourage her to keep prattling on. Or asking something personal he didn’t want to answer.

  He pointed to the road she needed to take; she turned, faster than he would have. She had a bit of a reckless streak, apparently. No surprise. The woman was probably very dangerous. In more ways than one.

  “Not at the moment.” Another cheeky grin came at him. “You offering? I have to say, glowering chiefs of medicine really aren’t my thing. That’s Jillian’s answer, and I never copy off my friends’ papers. That would be so overdone.”

  She drove up to his front porch, nimbly skirting around the pink bike in the center of the drive.

  “I’m sorry about that. My daughter has a tendency to leave her stuff lying everywhere.”

  “It’s easier to see stuff when you leave it out. This is your stop, big guy. That’ll be two dollars and twenty-eight cents.” She held out a small hand, then shot him a wicked grin, revealing the dimples—which racked up the heat flooding his gut. “Pay up, Alvaro.”

  “I’m flat out of cash.” An uncharacteristic bolt of humor hit him. To mingle with the sudden lust that apparently was going to hit him every time this woman smiled in his direction. “I’ll have to give you an IOU.”

  “I’ll take you up on that. Someday. You…have a greeting committee.”

  He turned, and there they were. His life. Keller held the baby by the hand as all three of them watched the unfamiliar car. “Every night.”

  “You’re a very lucky man, Dr. Alvaro. I hope you realize that.” Her words went soft, and the teasing quieted. That quiet had him answering more than anything else.

  “I do. Each and every minute of the day.” Words couldn’t adequately describe what his children meant to him. They were his world and had been from the moment Everett had taken his first breath in the world, to be followed fifteen minutes later by his sister.

  “I’ve got to go. Water the plant and all. He gets cranky if I’m late. And I’ve had my fill of doctor men tonight. I’ll tell you about the sixty-year-old surgeon who asked me out to coffee tonight—without his wife—some other time. See you around.”

  He almost commented on the other man but didn’t. It wasn’t his business. Her personal life was her own problem. “You, too.”

  She blew him a cheeky kiss, then waved to the three children on the front porch. She called out a hello to them and then put the Jeep in reverse.

  He was going to do his best to stay far away from this woman—before he did something stupid. Like seeing if she tasted as sweet as she looked. Or asking her out for coffee himself.

  The last thing either one of them needed was coffee.

  He forced himself not to look over his shoulder as she pulled away. He didn’t have time for Nikkie Jean Netorre right now.

  No matter that she’d turned him on faster than any woman had—in years. He’d honestly thought April had broken that part of him completely.

  5

  NIKKIE JEAN WAS SUCH a pretty little thing.

  Dr. Wallace Henedy watched her as she finished scrubbing up before their next surgery and laughed to himself when the surgical nurse Dominique tied her into the sterile gown and helped her glove up.

  Nikkie Jean Netorre looked like a child, barely bigger than the eleven-year-old boy on the table behind them. It was a routine surgery on a hernia, one of the most common types of surgeries on children.

  Nikkie Jean had a steady hand. Wallace felt privileged to be one of the ones to instruct her on the technique, along with Allen Jacobson. Jacobson was one hell of a surgeon, and an even better teacher.

  He was glad to see the younger man back after that little bit of trouble he’d had with a pharmacy tech.

  She’d been mercenary; he’d known that from one look at her when she’d hired on to the hospital over four years ago.

  He’d thought Allen Jacobson was smarter than that. The man should have known how to keep his private business outside of the hospital.

  Wallace had plenty of practice himself. His body still ached in the most delicious places from his latest with Connie.

  She was getting quite demanding. Pushing him in ways he wasn’t comfortable with.

  He’d told her at the beginning that he loved his wife.

  That wasn’t going to change from a little recreational sex to blow off steam.

  Wallace was on staff at all three hospitals in Finley Creek—Finley Creek Gen, Finley Creek County, and a smaller Catholic hospital near the northern boundary of the city. Not to mention his home office at Barratt County General in the next count
y south.

  He faced a lot of pressure. He needed an outlet. He always had. Wallace needed that stimulation. The excitement of the chase. Being made to feel important.

  Nikkie Jean brushed in front of him. She barely hit his shoulder. That didn’t stop her from being a force of nature.

  She brought laughter wherever she was. She was making quips about feeling like a burrito in the white surgical gown.

  Wallace shot her another look. The gown might be shapeless, and Nikkie Jean might be a thinner woman, but there were enough curves for him to know that she was all female.

  Pretty. Bubbly. Gifted.

  He’d been fascinated by her for months.

  Yes, it was time to cut Connie loose and move on.

  Nikkie Jean would do quite nicely for what Wallace needed. It would just take some planning on his part to make it work for the both of them.

  6

  DR. ALLEN JACOBSON WATCHED the women dancing around the small children’s ward cafeteria as they did their best to entertain the dozen children two hours after surgery ended.

  No doubt it had been Nikkie Jean Netorre’s idea.

  She was becoming more than incorrigible. He was glad he wasn’t acting chief of medicine any longer. Dealing with Nikkie Jean’s antics could end up being a full-time position.

  As it was, Allen would be eating chocolate pudding cups in his lunch bag for the next three years after Nikkie Jean’s little stunt to welcome him back last week.

  He’d kept some of the pudding and planned to donate the rest to the food bank three buildings down from his medical office.

  But as Nikkie Jean wiggled and giggled along with Lacy Deane and Jillian Deane to a familiar theme song from a children’s program—one Jillian had starred on when she’d been younger—he had to smile, then flat out laugh.

  The three of them had a way of making everyone do that lately. Patients and hospital staff alike.

  The children were mostly slated to go home in the next few days, none were seriously ill at this point. Nikkie Jean and her friends had done this show a few times before. That he knew of.

  He’d only been back at the hospital himself for a couple of days. He’d taken a month or so to get his thoughts back in order after everything that had happened lately.

  There had been a lot of changes to this place since Rafe had been injured. The other man ran a tight ship, but the atmosphere was far more welcoming to its employees than it had been under his friend Logan, or the men who’d run the place before.

  Including Allen himself, who’d done a stint as a temporary chief of medicine. He’d tried, but as a temporary COM, his hands had been tied by the board. Repeatedly. Deliberately.

  He bit back the disloyalty to Logan. The man hadn’t been a good COM; Allen wasn’t blind to that. But he’d been a good friend. At least until the last part of his life.

  He distracted himself by looking at the crowd gathered for the show.

  Jillian, Lacy, and Nikkie Jean held center stage, of course. They had a handful of the second-shift nurses helping do crowd control before their shifts started.

  It looked impulsive and impromptu, but he easily sensed that it wasn’t. There had to be some careful planning involved in order to get something like this going so smoothly.

  He suspected he knew exactly who had done that planning.

  He shot a look toward the back of the room. Rafe and Fin, his assistant, were in the back, watching. With approval.

  No surprise. Just about everything that Jillian did lately was approved.

  A bittersweet pang went through him. He’d been attracted to Jillian once. But he was glad she’d found Rafe. The two just sparked something almost visible with each other. They were well-matched. No one could argue that.

  The crowd laughed, and he looked back at the trio in the center. Nikkie Jean held a water gun now.

  A poor unsuspecting second-shift nurse took a shot right to the chest and hair. The woman wiped the short, dark-chocolate hair off her face and laughed, her big, dark eyes lighting. For a moment, she looked like an elf or a fairy with sparkling eyes and a mischievous grin.

  Talk about a false impression.

  Allen smirked. She was far prettier when she was laughing than shooting fire at people. That nurse had a real problem with men. Especially physicians. Especially those in authority.

  He couldn’t even remember her name. They’d had at least two disagreements over patients in the last three days. He’d been tempted to complain to HR, but he’d heard from Lacy that Logan had had a habit of writing up nurses over the most trivial things.

  He was determined that no one viewed him like they’d viewed Logan. Not any longer.

  Allen had his reputation around the hospital to repair.

  How much he’d let money and friendship blind him to reality wasn’t lost to Allen. He’d been blind to Logan, blind to Banks.

  And he’d been blinded by another dark-haired, dark-eyed woman he’d wanted.

  Allen liked to think he’d learned his lessons.

  He’d stood over Banks’s coffin, Banks’s two sisters next to him. There hadn’t been many more people at Banks’s funeral than there had been at Logan’s. Not even Allen’s younger sister had gone. Not like she had Logan’s.

  Banks was a criminal. Logan had been hurting. There was a difference. A massive one.

  Allen ruthlessly shoved that hurt away.

  The nurse hadn’t been wrong; not exactly. They just had different styles of treating patients.

  He’d tried to remember that.

  He was just straightening, turning to head to the cafeteria to wait for Nikkie Jean—she owed him lunch for that pudding fiasco—when a spray of cold water shot him right in the chest.

  Allen sputtered and looked at the culprit.

  Nikkie Jean shot him a wicked look, complete with a dimpled grin and laughing hazel eyes.

  Allen looked at her, as genuine humor burst out.

  It had been a while since he’d felt genuine happiness with anyone other than the younger sister who had been hovering over him. “You’ll pay for that, Dr. Netorre. Just you wait.”

  The audience laughed, exactly as Nikkie Jean had no doubt intended.

  She spun away, singing the next words to the children’s song, as he watched. She tossed the toy gun to Lacy and did a cartwheel between the other two women without missing a step.

  Choreographed. Well-planned. Nothing impulsive about it at all.

  Things were starting to feel genuine again. Thanks to Nikkie Jean.

  7

  WALLACE WATCHED THE three women as they danced, and he fought the urge to dance along with them. That wasn’t dignified; and no other physicians were moving to the music. Still, Wallace couldn’t look away.

  This was the first time he’d ever seen a show in pediatrics.

  Jillian, the COM’s young pretty wife, was a decent performer, as was her sister-in-law Lacy Deane. But it was Nikkie Jean who held his attention.

  He had news that was going to shatter the girl.

  Wallace wasn’t looking forward to it at all. The patient hadn’t even been Nikkie Jean’s. After their hernia patient, she’d moved on to a teenager with bone cancer, and Wallace had had an emergency appendectomy to perform. But she’d asked him to take good care of this one for her.

  She was drawn to the children; no surprise, considering her chosen field. This was going to shatter her.

  She danced around now with a young preschooler riding on her hip, happy and beautiful. Wallace felt sick as he played it over in his head, figured out what words he was going to use with her. It wasn’t going to be easy. He was about to take that joy he saw in her eyes.

  Someone touched him on the arm, and he looked over to see Amy, the head surgical nurse. Her eyes were damp. She’d been the one to cover the child’s face after Cage Ralstone had called the child’s time of death. It had been a solemn moment for all of them.

  One that would never get easier for any of them. If it did
, then medicine was the wrong field of choice. Wallace turned his attention back to the laughing children in front of where he stood.

  He needed to see their faces for a moment. He just needed to. These children were going home soon. Thank God.

  “I’ll tell Nikkie Jean. She asked specifically that I tell her when the surgery was over. I think she was planning to come back after her shift ended and sit with him. She promised to bring him some chocolate pudding.”

  “She sat with him last night for a while, I think,” Wallace said quietly. Dr. Ralstone and Dr. Patel had mentioned it. When they’d spoken of how alone the child had seemed. Only a lone, young social worker had paid much attention to the child at all. After social services had been called in.

  Of course, that would be the kind of pediatric patient Nikkie Jean would be most drawn to. Wallace had wondered before why she seemed so alone. If she longed for the connection to others that he himself had been missing—since Jennifer had finished her real estate classes and started on her own upward trajectory more than a decade ago now. It was like Wallace wasn’t as important. Or Reggie and Raymond.

  He shook thoughts of his family away and looked at the nurse next to him. She was a pretty brunette in her late forties, with a pleasant body and a calm demeanor. He’d never been attracted to her, but he could see where many men would be. She had compassion. Her eyes, big and dark, were her best feature. He’d never gone for pleasingly plump—with the notable exception of his wife.

  But what they had was so much more than physical. “She’s going to be upset.”

  “No doubt,” Amy said with compassion in her tone. “I’ll tell her. When she’s finished here.”

  “Thanks, Amy.” He just hadn’t wanted to be the one to destroy the joy in her today. Wallace watched the show until he couldn’t stand it any longer. He turned and walked away, heartbroken over the child he hadn’t been able to save.

  8

  NIKKIE JEAN KNEW THE instant she saw the expression on Amy Hailer’s face that the surgery hadn’t gone well. After she and Lacy and Jillian finished their little skit in the children’s cafeteria, Amy was waiting.