Collision at Roosevelt Ranch

by Elise Faber

  “Not much to do,” she told them. “Stitches and maybe a sprained ankle.”

  Both of which meant that she probably wouldn’t be able to work the next day.

  Dammit.

  That meant she’d be required to put in an appearance at Sunday dinner.

  Fuck. Her. Life.

  “It’s something,” Dr. Hamilton—Julian—said. “I need to practice my sutures.”

  Haley shuddered at the thought of being his guinea pig. “Dude. You’re supposed to perfect them in medical school.”

  Lips twitched. “Maybe I’m out of practice.”

  Considering that although Julian was young and fresh out of his residency, he was one of the smartest and well-rounded doctors she’d ever met, Haley had no doubt his stitches would be more precise than a fashion designer’s.

  “Not likely,” she said, pushing up to sit as the gurney was situated next to a bed and sliding herself over before the paramedics, Dean and Kristin, could help her. She was a nurse, dammit. She could move two feet, but even Haley had to admit that those two feet were really fucking painful. “Thanks, guys,” she told the paramedics, waving as they left and hiding her wince, pretending her ankle wasn’t a throbbing mess that was making her head spin.

  Or maybe that was the head wound.

  “Ten bucks there’s a fracture in that ankle.”

  Sam’s voice made her gaze fly to the open door. She hadn’t expected him to come to the hospital. He’d been dealing with the police as she’d been packed into the back of the ambulance, all while declaring that she didn’t need the transport, that she wasn’t that bad off and could drive herself into the hospital.

  Kristin hadn’t even argued with her. She’d just nodded at Dean and the two of them had bundled her onto the gurney and off to the ER on the red-and-white express.

  Thankfully they hadn’t used the siren.

  Small victories. Haley was all about them.

  “It’s just a sprain,” she said with a glare, already thinking about how big the hospital bills were going to be. First, Sam crashed into her car, then he called 9-1-1—

  Okay, so maybe if she hadn’t slammed on the brakes . . .

  Details. Details.

  One of Sam’s dark brown brows rose as if to say, “We’ll see.”

  Yeah, they would see, wouldn’t they?

  Meanwhile, Julian and Roxy bustled around her—Julian putting in orders for X-rays and medications, while Roxy started a line and then hung a bag of antibiotics and fluid . . . and a little something for pain relief.

  Sam stood unobtrusively in the corner.

  Though he’d never been unobtrusive to her.

  Haley’s childhood crush hadn’t changed. In fact, he was prettier than ever, more muscular and filled out and just . . . completely yummy and male.

  He’d owned her heart the first time he’d helped her with her history homework, way back when she’d been in seventh grade and he’d been in eleventh. Sam had been gorgeous then, all long, lean lines and possessing a smile that made her stomach fill with butterflies.

  Of course, he’d also been dating her sister Maggie, so that had been a problem.

  Especially since he’d practically lived at her house for years because they’d dated all the way through high school and college. His constancy in her life meant that her crush had years to develop into something so painful and awkward and soul-crushing that she’d been determined to leave town when he and Maggie got married.

  Only he and Maggie hadn’t gotten married.

  He’d left for vet school, and her sister had stayed.

  No wedding. No more Sam.

  Except, he’d returned to Darlington . . . and now so had she.

  “Fuck,” she murmured and forced her mind from the past.

  “Sorry,” Julian said gentling his touch on her forehead.

  She didn’t have the strength to tell him that his touch wasn’t what was hurting her. Hell, by now she was floating on some good drugs and hadn’t even felt Roxy cleaning the wound.

  Her ankle still throbbed though.

  Ugh.

  Because that probably meant Sam was right.

  Instead of going further down that particular train of thought, Haley shut her mouth and held very still as Julian closed up her forehead.

  As predicted his stitches were perfectly straight.

  “I told you,” she said as she snuck a quick glance with her phone. Sam had returned it after managing to make turning off her playlist look as simple as pressing a button.

  Technology. It hated her.

  “Told me what?” Julian asked.

  “That your sutures are perfect.” She grinned at him. “In fact, they’re fashion-designer worthy.”

  “I hear the mummy look is in right now,” Roxy chimed in, holding up a roll of gauze before bandaging Haley’s wound.

  Haley rolled her eyes, and the motion meant she caught another glimpse of Sam in the corner.

  Dammit, why was the man so fucking hot?

  Even in the fluorescent lighting, his skin was a gorgeous tawny brown and his eyes resembled melted dark chocolate, while she knew hers bore a strong resemblance to mud.

  Gross, sticky mud filled with horse manure.

  Okay, so she was being dramatic.

  But, really, the man was supermodel beautiful and despite having broken her sister’s heart once upon a time, he’d grown into a seriously nice guy. The type to stop and pull over if he saw an old lady struggling to load her groceries in her car or to shovel his neighbor’s driveway just because he happened to be outside digging out his own.

  He was sweet. Kind. Sexy and—

  It didn’t matter.

  Even if he did see her as a woman and not the awkward, gangly sister of an old flame, he was in the no-touch zone.

  Fuck. Between bubbles and zones, she was losing her mind.

  But there was a sister code and that meant no dating exes. Not ever. Even if it had been close to a decade since their broken engagement. Even though her sister was happily married to someone else.

  Nope. No way.

  She couldn’t muddy the waters.

  Not that Sam wanted to muddy them with her.

  “Men,” she muttered and Roxy, who’d been clearing off the rolling table, snorted before patting her shoulder. “I feel ya, girl.” Her eyes flicked to Sam then back to Haley. “I’ll come back when X-Ray is ready for you.”

  Haley nodded then gave Julian a thumbs up when he told her he’d check on her after the results were in and hurried from the room.

  He’d just been notified that another patient was en route.

  Which meant that the occupancy of the ER was about to double.

  Sam pushed off the wall and moved toward her, drawing her gaze as easily as a bar of Godiva at a Chocolaholics Anonymous meeting.

  Oh, look there she went again being ridiculous.

  But shoving her mind down a track that had nothing to do with Sam and everything to do with ridiculous analogies had been her survival technique for years.

  Yes, she could compartmentalize. No problem. Sam Johnson wasn’t even in the room as far as she was concerned. It was all milk versus dark chocolate and—

  Dammit, now Sam’s dark chocolate eyes were on hers, his slightly roughened fingertips brushing across the back of her hand.

  “I’m sorry you got hurt because of me.”

  The sheer amount of remorse in his voice pulled her out of her whirling mind. He felt bad? She’d slammed on the brakes.

  “You do realize that it’s the deer we both should be pissed at, right?”

  His brows drew down. “I should have been paying closer attention.” With a sigh, he straightened and turned, pacing away. “I should have given you more space, and I should have made sure I was more alert—”

  “When the Backstreet Boys blared to roaring life on my speakers at the same time that a deer decided to try and commit death by front bumper?” She fixed him with a glare. “You should have known a
t that exact moment to slow down and be more awake?” Shoving her elbows under herself, she went to sit up, only to make it halfway before collapsing back down with a moan.

  Sam whipped around. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine,” she said, keeping her eyes closed and waiting for the room to stop spinning.

  He touched her shoulder “I think you probably have a concussion.”

  “So does Julian,” she said, eyes still closed. “He wrote it in my chart.”

  “Hmm,” Sam said.

  Her lids pulled back. “What?”

  “Julian?” he asked, so smirky and all-knowing.

  She rolled her eyes. “He’s too young for me.”

  Sam huffed. “Haley, you’re all of—”

  “Twenty-seven.”

  His jaw dropped open. “No, you’re not.”

  Really? She narrowed her eyes, talking slowly to break it down for the infuriating man. “You, thirty-two. Me, twenty-seven. That’s how math works.”

  “How did that—” He broke off.

  “Happen?” she said. “Life, Sam. Life.”

  “Damn.” He blew out a breath. “Still, life or not, I really am sorry I crashed into you.

  Haley rolled her eyes. “Can we agree to just blame the deer?” Silence met her question, and she stifled a sigh. “And I didn’t mean that Julian is too young age-wise for me. I just meant that he’s too young . . . I don’t know, soul-wise? Personality-wise? Does that even make sense?”

  “No.”

  She opened her mouth to snap at him then saw the corners of his lips twitching. “God, you’re just the same.”

  “No,” he said, and his tone took on a hint of darkness that had her frowning as she tried to interpret it. Of course, that frown was followed quickly by a wince as her stitches pulled, distracting her from the topic at hand. And she was further veered from the blip of pain from Sam’s past when he said, “But I do understand not shitting where you eat.”

  “Barf,” she quipped before shrugging. “Not the most pleasant saying, but it is apt, especially in this case. I don’t date people from the hospital. It’s too complicated.” Not to mention the dating pool was pretty small and also that she had sworn off men at the moment. After Brian—

  Yeah.

  Nope.

  Not going there.

  “I think Julian is technically a few years older than me in years,” she said. “But much younger in life experience. At least outside of a hospital setting. Does that make more sense?”

  Sam stared at her. And cue more silence, this time of the growing-more-awkward-by-the-second variety.

  So, when exactly would it be rude for her to ask him to leave?

  It wasn’t that she wanted to be alone necessarily, but between the past and the awkward present and then adding in the dark circles beneath his eyes, it was probably better if they just parted ways and returned to being casual acquaintances.

  Sam was as tired as she was. He needed rest. Not to pass a couple of uncomfortable hours in a hospital with a girl he knew from the past.

  He might be a good guy, but he wasn’t hers.

  And it was critical that she remembered that.

  “You should go,” she murmured.

  “I’m not—”

  Roxy bustled back in at that moment, cutting off what would no doubt be a protest. Sam was a good guy and wouldn’t dare to leave a damsel in distress. “X-Ray is ready for you.”

  “Great,” she said as Roxy unlocked the gurney. “You really should go,” she added as her friend started to wheel her out.

  His eyes flashed. “You need—”

  “Go, Sam.” She made a shooing motion. “I’m fine here.” When he looked like he would argue further, Haley fixed him with a glare. “Seriously. I’m. Fine.”

  “It’ll be a little while before the on-call ortho can read the X-Rays anyway,” Roxy added, and Haley could have kissed her.

  “Fine.” Sam threw up his hands. “I’ll go. Call me if you need—”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said.

  He shook his head, following the gurney out. But where Roxy and Haley turned right to head to X-Ray, Sam turned left and headed for the exit.

  The blip of regret she felt, the little aching slice as he disappeared from sight, was familiar.

  She was used to Sam Johnson walking away from her.

  Though, this time Haley knew it was because she’d pushed him.

  It was better for everyone that way.

  Four

  Sam

  * * *

  He walked around the corner, paused and waited for the nurse to wheel Haley through the opposite doors.

  Then he rotated around and strode back toward her room.

  The doctor—Julian, he thought with a huff—came out of another patient’s room. “Everything all right?”

  Sam gave the other man a commiserating look. “Haley doesn’t want to inconvenience me by having me stay.” Okay, only a half-truth. She’d ordered him to leave, but he wasn’t about to abandon her while she was concussed and sporting stitches, as well as a broken ankle.

  And he’d seen enough broken bones to know that ankle was definitely fractured.

  Julian nodded. “She’s stubborn, that one. A hell of a nurse, though.”

  Sam didn’t doubt that. Even as kids she’d been smart as hell, strong, quick-thinking, and possessed a streak of empathy that fit very well with her current occupation.

  “But,” Julian went on, “at the same time, she doesn’t want you here—”

  “I’ll stay out of the way and keep quiet,” Sam said. He appreciated that the doctor was willing to go to bat for Haley, but—“I just want to make sure she gets home safely.”

  Julian studied him for a beat. “I’m leaving it up to her,” he said after a long moment. “If she wants you gone, I’ll make sure you’re gone.”

  There was steel in the other man’s tone that Sam respected. Though it seemed at odds with the youthful naiveté Haley had described. Maybe there was more to Julian than she’d grasped.

  Not that Sam would be railroaded into leaving. It was his fault that Haley was hurt, so he’d make certain she was safe and secure at home and then he’d crash—

  Er, get some shut-eye.

  But instead of saying any of that, he nodded—Julian could interpret that however he wanted—and continued back down the hall to Haley’s room. Once inside, he plunked down into a chair and pulled out his phone.

  Typically, he kept to a light schedule on Sundays. Some office visits for the clients who couldn’t make it in during normal hours, a few home visits for horses or cattle on the surrounding ranches. But he saw with no little amount of relief that his schedule was completely clear.

  Probably because Jane had known how late he’d worked that evening.

  Sam glanced at the clock on his phone’s screen and saw that it was nearly the previous evening at that point.

  He knew Haley worked days and wondered why she’d been leaving work so late, especially based on the quiet Emergency Department surrounding him.

  Maybe it had been busy earlier.

  So, aside from checking in on Dexter, making sure the pup was still looking good after surgery, all he needed to do the next day was make sure that Haley was okay.

  He could do that.

  As long as he didn’t hit her with his car again.

  Snorting, he passed the time waiting for Haley by checking some sports scores on his cell. He’d gone to veterinary school in Minnesota and had become a bit of a hockey fan, though his fandom didn’t actually extend to the state’s teams.

  His love of hockey had begun during the league’s most recent expansion and as thus, he’d been following the San Francisco Gold since their very first season.

  They’d begun shakily but were damned good now.

  Of course, they were also currently helmed by the league’s only engaged couple, Brit Plantain and Stefan Barie.

  Sam was a sucker for their story—the firs
t female player in the NHL and the captain of the team they both played for falling in love.

  So, he was a romantic.

  Haters were gonna hate.

  Rolling his eyes at himself, Sam saw the Gold had won that evening and noted their position in the West. Playoff hopes were high, though it was still too early in the season for them to know for sure.

  He hoped they did well, because he really wanted Brit to win a Cup.

  Feminist and romantic. See? He was owning his Millennial status.

  Throw in some avocado toast, and he was there.

  He’d just pocketed his phone when he heard Haley’s voice echo down the hall. Bracing himself for her reaction, Sam stood.

  The same nurse wheeled the gurney in, and he knew the exact moment Haley saw him. Her words cut off, her eyes flashed, and red painted itself across her cheekbones.

  “I thought I told you to leave.”

  The nurse sucked in a breath. “Harsh, girl.”

  “Shut it, Roxy,” Haley snapped, though it held little heat, and the words were slightly slurred. “This one is trouble.”

  Sam helped Roxy position the bed and lock the wheels in place. “I did leave,” Sam said. “I just came back.”

  Roxy—a women with shining black hair, curves for days, and a smile that seemed to light up the room—smirked at Haley. “You’ve got a live one with this one.”

  “Tell me about it,” Haley muttered. “He was hot as hell then and even better looking full-grown.”

  Roxy’s brows raised. “Full-grown?”

  “Big. Bigger.” She lifted a hand loosely gesturing somewhere in the direction of Sam’s crotch.

  Though he was inclined to believe she was referring to his height.

  “And he broke my sister’s heart.”

  Fuck. He and Maggie had been over for a decade. They’d—

  “Holy drugs, Batman,” Roxy said.

  “Told you I was a lightweight.” Her eyes slid closed.

  “That you did.” Roxy fiddled with the computer for a moment. “I’ll drop your dosage.” When Haley’s eyes stayed shut and her breathing evened out, the nurse turned to face Sam. “Her ankle’s broken.”

  Nailed it, he thought like an eight-year-old, but instead of saying that aloud he just nodded.