by Fiona Lowe
He tore his stethoscope out of his ears just as Katrina said, “Are you sure you don’t want me to answer your phone, Larry?”
For the first time since coming to Bear Paw, Josh had a case that reminded him of a big-city ER. “That’s going to be difficult, Katrina, given that Larry’s phone is in his butt.”
Her eyes dilated so wide he could have floated in them.
“Oh. I see.” She hesitated for a moment and then patted Larry jerkily on the shoulder. “No wonder you’ve got a pain in your ass.”
Josh tried not to burst out laughing. She’d just managed to combine sympathy with total understatement.
Larry’s face burned fire-engine red. “I had my cell on the bed and I slipped after the shower and fell on it. Damn motel floors.”
Josh tried hard not to roll his eyes. He’d heard this story many times before—how men slipped and fell on an amazing assortment of objects. He’d long given up on questioning them on exactly how phones, cans of drink, axe handles and pool balls ended up inside of them. “We’ll X-ray you to locate the exact position and hopefully be able to remove it without transferring you to Great Falls for surgery.”
Larry paled. “Surgery? Will my HMO cover it?”
Josh tried not to sigh. Did people really think they could stick things in places where they didn’t belong without any risk of damage or HMO scrutiny? “One thing at a time, Mr. Dreyfus. X-ray first.”
“I’ll arrange it,” Katrina said, reaching for the wall phone.
—
“SO Larry’s discharged along with his phone, which I put in a ziplock baggie,” Katrina said an hour later with a slight shake of her head. It had been a long time since she’d worked in a clinic, and she’d forgotten the wild and wonderful cases that came through the door. “Do you think he’ll actually keep using it?”
Josh shrugged. “I suggested he get a smartphone. The shape alone should be enough to discourage him from falling on it.”
She laughed. “We can only hope.”
He checked his watch as he shut down the computer. “Seven thirty. I think we can call it a day. It’s not too shabby a time to finish up, given there were moments when I thought I’d still be here at midnight.”
He rubbed his jaw, which was now covered in day-end stubble. “You turned a crappy day around, Katrina. Thanks for helping out.”
The crisp and unexpected praise warmed her, but thankfully, not in a sexual way. Just like when she’d been teaching him how to attach a towel rail to a wall, working with him today in a professional and clinical capacity seemed to have established the much-needed boundaries. Boundaries she’d struggled with at other times. “No worries. Besides, Millie wouldn’t have spoken to either of us if I’d said no.”
He grinned. “For sure.” He leaned back in the office chair resting his hands behind his head and gave her a long and contemplative look. “You’re good at what you do, so why aren’t you working as an RN?”
I’m so not telling you the real story. She wrapped her hands around the edge of the desk she was leaning on, welcoming the discomfort against her palm. It blocked the memory of Brent. The lies. The utter feelings of wretchedness. But Josh had an intransigent look on his face, so she knew she had to give him part of the truth or risk an interrogation.
“I’ve been unit manager of a large cardiac catheterization lab for the last couple of years.”
Surprise lit up his eyes. “That sure as hell wouldn’t have been around here, then.”
“No. It was at Jefferson back in Philadelphia.”
“Impressive.” A combination of interest and bemusement played on his cheeks. “And yet, of all the places you could have taken a break in and made coffee—”
“And pull beers.”
His brows shot to his hairline. “I did not know that.”
She matched his brow rise. “You would have if you’d started socializing and met some people at one of the two bars in town.”
The edge of his mouth tightened the way it always did when she commented on his lack of connection with Bear Paw. “As I was saying, of all the places you could come do unskilled work, you chose Bear Paw?”
“Hey, there’s skill in pouring beer and making coffee.”
He gave her a long look.
She shrugged. “I grew up here, my family’s here and I have a house here, although that didn’t quite turn out exactly as I’d planned.” She gave a wry smile. “Anyway, I was tired and losing enthusiasm for the job, so it seemed like a good idea to come home and visit. You know, family ties and all that,” she finished brightly.
He stood up. “No, not really.”
She thought about what he’d said the other day about his father. “You’re not close to your family?”
“We do the holidays,” he said curtly. “So, if I’m at your house, where are you staying?”
“I’m at the ranch house with my family.”
“How’s that working out?”
She wasn’t going to talk about that, either. How she loved her dad dearly but he drove her crazy treating her like she was barely out of high school. “Fine.”
As he stood up, he reached around her to lock the filing cabinet and his arm brushed hers. It took everything she had not to gasp as a wave of sensation raced up her arm, landed in her chest and fanned out from there. Every hair on her arm and every cell in her body stood to attention saying “more please.”
He flicked the key and dropped his arm, but his gaze stayed locked with hers, as if he were looking for clues. “Well, I’m glad it’s you and not me, then. I couldn’t think of anything worse than having to move back in with my parents.”
“Oh?” The word came out breathy and flirty despite all her good intentions to sound totally normal. “Not even working in Bear Paw?”
“You’ve got me there.” He grinned down at her through long, thick lashes. “Mind you, Larry made me feel like I was back at Mercy.”
He was so close, and just like on the couch, she started to feel her brain shutting down as her body took over. Somehow she managed to stammer out, “Thank goodness for traveling salesmen, then. Making you feel at home.”
“Indeed.” A curl brushed her cheek as he dropped his head in close and the scent of peppermint rushed her. “And now I know you’re really a city girl at heart, things might just be looking up.”
The timbre of his voice and the erotic touch of his breath against her ear sent a shock of desire ricocheting through her. Silver spots danced before her eyes and her legs trembled. Despite her knowing it wasn’t a good idea, her gaze moved up to meet his like she was a puppet on a string. The fire she’d glimpsed in his eyes once before burned brightly there again, calling up her own need and inviting it to come play.
She raised her hand and cupped his cheek, his day’s-end stubble gently grazing her palm.
He groaned and, tantalizingly slowly, traced the outline of her top lip with the tip of his finger. Like a match to paper, she went up in flames as heat and joyful anticipation rocked her. She opened her mouth under his touch, her tongue licking the tip of his finger before her lips sucked it inside her mouth.
The black pupils of his eyes bled into the silvery gray. “Dear God, you’re killing me.” As he withdrew his finger, his other hand curved around the back of her neck and he kissed her.
His lips fused with hers with the perfect amount of pressure, and his taste of coffee and almonds flooded her—drenching her with his masculinity and making her crave him even more. His hot and enticing lips gently yet erotically explored her mouth as if it were a delicate flower at risk of being bruised if crushed. His tongue slowly explored her top lip, and then he turned his attention to her bottom one with the same single-minded determination of a man used to being thorough. He licked. He sucked. He nibbled.
Her blood turned into a river of sensation, carrying bliss to every cell of her body, both draining and energizing her all at the same time. The kiss was deliciously restrained and divinely decadent. Honor and lus
t—a kiss of the ages. A kiss any woman would envy.
A kiss that was driving her wild. She wanted to shake the control and unleash the passion.
Tingling from head to toe and desperate to really taste him, she opened her mouth under his, flicked out her tongue and invited him in. He didn’t hesitate. He branded her with his heat and his need for her, both giving and taking, and her knees buckled. She grabbed onto his shirt and he staggered backward, bringing her with him.
A crash of metal made her eyelids fly open. A dressing cart had careened into the wall, scattering gauze, bandages, syringes and tape onto the floor.
The sight chilled her. Memories hammered her.
Not again.
She pulled her lips from his, her chest heaving. “I’m not doing this.”
His glazed eyes seemed to struggle to focus. “Doing what?”
“Kissing you at work.”
He ran his hand up her spine, gently tugging her back in close to him. “I beg to differ. It seems that you’re most definitely kissing me at work.”
And it was amazing. She swallowed, pulling together every splintered piece of determination she had into some semblance of a whole. “Well, I’m stopping now.”
“That’s a damn shame. I never took you for a quitter.” He stroked her hair. “Why?”
She pressed her fingers into a steeple and grappled to find a plausible answer that wouldn’t betray her past. “Because it’s so cliché. So Hollywood. The doctor and the nurse . . .”
He grinned at her. “Actually, a lot of those shows are doctors getting it on with other doctors, so you’re good.”
“No.” She shook her head as temptation swamped her so strongly she threatened to drown. “I’m not good at all.”
He dropped his head in close again and whispered against her hair, “That’s even better.”
Flashes of what it would be like to strip him naked and climb on top of him made her flimsy resolve crumble like short pastry.
Remember, there are consequences. Big, bad ones. It’s so not worth it. She spun out of his arms, this time putting cool air and distance firmly between them to shore up her resolve. “Good night, Josh.”
Somehow, she forced her legs to carry her away from him and out into the night.
—
STUNNED, Josh watched Katrina walking out the door through a fog of arousal. Every part of him wanted to catch her by the wrist and spin her back into his arms, but he was so hard, he was locked where he stood. That and the fact that she’d made it very clear the kiss was over. He’d never forced himself on any woman and he didn’t intend to start now. What wasn’t clear was why she’d stopped the kiss. And hot damn, the girl could kiss.
The woman can kiss.
The intensity of her kiss had been unexpected. Perhaps he’d gotten a hint of possibilities when she’d sucked his finger into her mouth, but the moment she’d deepened his testing-the-waters kiss, he’d experienced a side of her he never would have guessed existed. In so many ways she was the epitome of control—organized, focused and bossy. Hell, she’d been telling him what to do and ticking him off from the moment they’d met.
But nothing about that kiss was controlled—not for either of them. It had scorched him before delving down deep and pulling up a response he hadn’t experienced in a long time. It had made him feel hot, human and oh so horny. It had made him feel totally alive in a way he’d forgotten.
And then she’d pulled back.
His heart rate slowed to normal, returning his blood to all of his body parts, not just his dick, and his brain kicked back in, asking questions and demanding answers. Why had he kissed her? Exactly why had she stopped? And if she wouldn’t kiss him at work, did that mean she’d kiss him someplace else?
He couldn’t answer a single one of them.
Chapter 7
For the third time in six weeks, Shannon waited outside the middle school principal’s office. She stared down at the highly polished linoleum floor and then up at the display cases filled with photos of smiling faces. Students holding trophies aloft for wins in sports, music, science fair and other academic achievements.
A sharp pain pierced her heart. It wasn’t because Hunter’s picture wasn’t there and it wasn’t because she’d never have a bumper sticker on her car that said I am the Proud Parent of an Honor Roll Student. It was because all of the faces looking out at her were happy. Hunter was so far from happy that it was breaking her heart.
The office door opened and the principal, Gary Folger, walked out with his hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “So tomorrow’s a new day, Hunter, with a chance to make it a great day.”
Hunter’s head was bowed. “Yes, sir.”
“So you write your apology letter to Mrs. Ambrose tonight and bring it with you tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir,” Hunter mumbled as he tried to edge away from the principal’s hand.
“Good man. I’ll look forward to reading it.” Gary Folger gave Shannon a tired smile. “He can’t return to class until he’s written the letter.”
She nodded. “I understand.” She’d spoken with him and with the guidance counselor on the phone earlier. Neither conversation had eased her mind any. Hunter was monosyllabic with every adult he came in contact with and had been for a year, well before she’d bought the diner and moved him here. It wasn’t that he’d objected to the move, but then again, he hadn’t been enthusiastic, either. His guarded ambivalence to everything worried her the most.
She wanted to offer her hand to Hunter like she’d always done when he’d been in elementary school, but he was fourteen now. If she tried it, he’d give her that look of teenage incredulity that said she’d lost her mind, so she clutched the strap of her purse instead. “Let’s go home, buddy.”
He grunted and walked down the hall a good six steps in front of her, jamming his baseball cap down hard over his eyes. He didn’t say a word until they were in the car and she was reversing out of the lot. “This place totally sucks.”
She held back a sigh. “Honey, if you’d called any of your teachers back in Topeka a moron, you’d be on trash collection for a week instead of writing a letter.”
“I’d rather do that.”
And she knew he would. Writing was a form of torture for Hunter. He had a bright mind, but the messages got crossed somewhere between his head and his hand. “Well, you can put out the trash for me at the diner and write the letter.”
“Aww, Mom, that’s so not fair.”
“It’s more than fair,” she said, taking a left turn. “I didn’t raise you to disrespect your teachers or anyone else for that matter.”
Hunter slumped in the seat, his bottom lip pouting and his arms crossed. “I hate this place.”
He’d said he hated Topeka. “You like the skate park.”
He shot her a disgruntled look. “Yeah, but you hardly ever let me go.”
Hardly ever was every weekend and one night during the school week. She pulled into the parking space between the diner and their house and threw the gearshift into park. “If you go write the letter now, do your math and put out the trash, you’ll still have time for a quick skate before dark.”
“I could go now and do that stuff after.”
“Nice try, buddy, but no.”
He glowered at her before grabbing his backpack, climbing out of the car and slamming the door behind him.
She watched him stomp into the house, and when the screen door banged shut, she dropped her head on the steering wheel, squeezing her eyes closed. When Hunter was one, she’d thought being a single mom was hard, but this? Watching her once loving and affectionate child vanish behind a wall of irritability and unhappiness made those periods of sleepless nights and teething seem like a cakewalk. When was parenting going to get easier?
One day you’ll understand. The words her mother had hurled at her when she was seventeen and pregnant rumbled in her mind. She lifted her head and gazed heavenward. “I guess this is what you meant, Mom. Any tips?”
<
br /> But all she heard was the drumming sound of a woodpecker, hammering home the fact that she was on her own with this and all things, just as it had always been.
—
BEAU hung up his hat, pulled off his mucky boots and washed his hands at the basin in the back bathroom before entering the kitchen. Being taught how to wash his hands by Bonnie was one of the first things he remembered about arriving at Coulee Creek ranch as a bewildered five-year-old.
Used to a tiny one-bedroom apartment, the scream of sirens and the screams of his mother, the vast space of the ranch and the bellows of the bulls had initially terrified him. Now it was the other way round. Thankfully, he didn’t have the need to go to Billings or even Seattle very often, but when he did, the noise, the crowds and the traffic made him want to leave the moment he arrived.
He picked up the basket of chopped wood for the wood-burning stove and walked into the kitchen. It was the heartbeat of the ranch house and his favorite room. It always smelled great, and he automatically breathed in deeply as he’d done for thirty years. He stopped short. Instead of the sweet scents of cakes and cookies or the mouthwatering aromas of roasting beef and crispy potatoes, all he got was a faint tang of ammonia with a lemon chaser.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d come into the kitchen at this time of the afternoon not to find something cooking in or on the wood-burning stove. Bonnie fed the family as well as the seasonal ranch hands who helped out at branding and roundup time. Right now, they were building the corral for the branding weekend, and usually his mother was baking to beat the band because come Saturday, thirty or more people would be on the ranch to help. His father had sent him to check on her because she’d been expected down at the corral with the midafternoon snack for the workers.
Bonnie was sitting at the large, scrubbed pine table staring out the window at the imposing jagged mountains in the distance, which still had a smattering of snow on their peaks. Even if branding weekend weren’t coming up, usually at this time of the day she was busy doing something like tending to her vegetable plot.
