Prescription for Love
Page 18
After the first few minutes with her arms braced on the wall and hot water beating a tattoo on her back, she started to think rationally again. She’d sent Flann on her way, not that she’d really had any choice. They couldn’t very well have sex in Presley’s house with half the hospital plus Flann’s parents and her son in attendance! That was beside the point anyhow—she didn’t want to have sex with Flann. Okay, she did, but not in the real world. Just in the little slice of fantasy world that had bled over into hers when she wasn’t looking. Flann and Carrie were a much better match—hell, Flann had practically described Carrie when she’d said what she was looking for in a woman. Bright, beautiful, sexy, and not ready to settle down. If Flann had pulled her Prince Charming routine on Carrie, all the better.
Yes. Better for everyone.
Abby resolved to put the whole issue of who had slept where out of her mind. After a long sumptuous shower, she dressed, toweled her hair dry, slipped into the clogs Flann had lent her what felt like a year ago, and headed downstairs.
Carrie sat alone at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee. Abby hesitated at the doorway, that morning’s kiss suddenly looming large. If Carrie and Flann had something going on, the last thing she wanted to do was get in the middle. She not only liked Carrie, but Carrie was Presley’s good friend. Now she was even happier she’d sent Flann away. “Morning.”
“More or less.” Carrie grinned. “Hot coffee, biscuits on the counter, and ham in that covered dish next to them.”
“There is a fairy godmother,” Abby muttered, her hunger making itself known with a vengeance. She poured coffee, grabbed a biscuit and several slices of ham, and sat down across from Carrie. “Mrs. Rivers?”
Carrie shook her head. “Lila. Presley’s housekeeper. She was here a few hours ago, apparently.”
“I forgot she cooks too.”
Carrie grinned. “That’s an understatement. I’m really gonna miss that when I move out.”
“I can’t believe the wedding is in just a few weeks.”
“And we’ve still got a lot of planning to do.” Carrie’s eyes brightened.
“Whatever you need me to do, just let me know.”
“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll be plenty busy.”
Abby finished the biscuit and ham and got up for a coffee refill. “More coffee?”
Carrie handed her the cup. “Thanks.”
“Where’s everyone else?” Abby tried to sound casual. She didn’t know how she’d feel seeing Flann again, but the sooner she did and they got back onto neutral ground, the better. She’d be working with Flann more closely than with anyone else at the hospital, and she wanted their relationship to be cordial. Hopefully, they could just treat the kiss as what it was—a spontaneous physical encounter born out of lowered inhibitions brought on by fatigue and the aftermath of the crisis. Flann undoubtedly was regretting it just as much as she was right now.
“Margie and Blake are asleep somewhere—I think in the sitting room. Harper’s parents left right after breakfast. Glenn and Harper are around somewhere, and I think Presley might still be asleep.”
“And Flann?” Abby tensed, waiting for Carrie to say Flann was still asleep somewhere too, possibly in her bed.
“Oh, I thought you probably knew,” Carrie said. “Flann left hours ago. I was just getting ready to go to bed and she borrowed my car. I think Glenn is looking to ride with you.”
“Right.” Abby handed her the coffee and sat down again. “She didn’t get any sleep, then.”
“Glenn?” Carrie colored faintly. “I’m not sure.”
“I meant Flann.”
Carrie regarded her over the top of her coffee cup. “She said she was going home. If I know Flann, she’s probably back at the hospital by now.”
“Of course,” Abby said cheerfully. Could she be any more obvious?
“In case you were wondering,” Carrie said lightly, “we’re not an item.”
“That’s really none of my business,” Abby said, caught between embarrassment and relief, and uncomfortable with both reactions.
“Okay, but just being clear. She’s sex on a stick, for sure.”
Of course she was, and anyone with two eyes and a beating heart could see that. Abby pursed her lips and sat back down, assuming a nonchalant expression. “Attractive, yes. No denying.”
“And smart and funny and…did I mention sexy?”
Abby had the strangest urge to growl. “I think you did.”
“And she looks at you like she wants to drag you off to her cave and have her way with you.” Carrie grinned.
Abby choked down the coffee she’d just sipped. “I’m sorry?”
Carrie laughed. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. She was practically staring holes in you all morning at breakfast.”
“I doubt that. She was all the way at the other end of the table and barely looked—” Abby realized she’d just admitted she’d been watching Flann too. “Well, hell.”
“Uh-huh. It’s the old avoidance reaction. She’s interested and running scared.”
“I can’t believe anything scares Flann when it comes to women,” Abby said dryly. She certainly hadn’t acted scared that morning. If anything, Abby had been the one to run. The idea made Abby pause. Really? Run? That wasn’t her. She didn’t run—not when she’d discovered she was pregnant, not when Blake was born and she’d had to leave him with her mother so she could finish school, not when the demands of residency and parenthood had nearly killed her. Why on earth would she run from a simple kiss?
“I think there might be,” Carrie said.
Abby blinked. “Sorry?”
“Flann. Scared. I’ve known her awhile now and seen her around a lot of women. She does casual really well, but something else would probably scare her.”
“I don’t know her well enough to say,” Abby said, “but there’s nothing going on between us that could possibly be frightening.” At least not to Flann.
“Ah. Okay, then we’re all squared away.”
“Right, the field is clear.”
“Good,” Carrie said. “On to more important matters, then—once everything settles down at the hospital, I’ll text you about the wedding meeting.”
“Absolutely. I’ll be here.” Abby got up and carried her dishes to the sink. “I’m going to collect my offspring and head back to work.”
“I’ll probably see you there later.”
The only thing she wanted was to collect Blake and put Flannery O’Connor Rivers out of her mind. She found Blake and Margie in the sitting room, asleep as only teenagers could sleep, so deeply the world could come to an end around them and they wouldn’t notice. They were stretched out on the same sofa where she’d treated Flann the night before, foot to foot, their heads at opposite ends. She stood for a moment in the doorway, taking them in. They were beautiful. Blake had two kittens curled up in the crook of his arm. Margie’s golden hair framed her oval face like a halo. Abby wished for a second they could always stay as peaceful and content as they were right at that moment, but then life wasn’t always peaceful and happy, and some of the greatest pleasures grew out of turmoil and challenge. She couldn’t stop Blake from growing up and wouldn’t want to.
She knelt by his side and shook his shoulder gently. “Hey, time to go home.”
His lashes were long and dark, the kind people always said were too beautiful for a boy, but she didn’t think so. Boys had their own kind of beauty, and he was growing into his, day by day. His eyes opened and focused on hers. His smile was swift.
“Hi, Mom.”
“I have to go back to the hospital, and I want to take you home first.”
“Okay.” He looked down at the kittens, a pair of black and whites with brilliant blue eyes, just stretching with their tiny paws flailing in the air. The pair of them would’ve fit in a soup bowl. “Can I keep them?”
“Are they old enough to be separated from their mother?”
“Margie says so.”
“Maybe I could take them home, and we could call her later.”
“How about we leave a note on the table and let her know you’ve borrowed them for the day. I suspect she’ll be happy that they’ve got a good home.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“No problem. But”—she ruffled his hair—“no dog. Not until we have a house with a bigger yard.”
“Deal.” He grinned and glanced at Margie, who was awake and regarding them sleepily. “I can keep them.”
“Awesome,” Margie said with a yawn. “Is it lunch yet?”
Abby laughed. “Come on. We’ll find Glenn and I’ll treat you all to lunch before I go back to work.”
She herded the kids and cats outside. Glenn sat on the front steps, reading her phone.
“Cell tower’s back up,” Glenn said.
“Great,” Abby said. “Maybe that means things aren’t so bad. Hopefully people will start getting in to work today.”
“Most of the afternoon shift has called in they’re coming or have already arrived,” Glenn said. “I just checked the OR and ER.”
“You’re wasted as a first assist in the OR,” Abby said. “Come down to the ER and be my assistant director.”
Glenn laughed. “I don’t know who Flann would shoot first—you or me.”
Abby grimaced. “Probably me. But the offer stands. Think about it. You’re qualified, and when we start growing, there’ll be plenty of challenges.”
“I’ll think about it.” Glenn stood and stretched, wincing as if something bothered her.
“You okay?”
Glenn’s expression shuttered. “Fine.”
“Can I treat you to lunch?” Abby said, recognizing a closed subject.
“Sure.” Glenn smiled and Abby realized how good-looking she was in a quiet, contained way.
Abby smiled back. “Wonderful. I can’t promise I won’t keep trying to seduce you away from the OR.”
Glenn laughed as she and Abby walked to the car. “Seduce away.”
Abby laughed too, not the least bit inclined to run from the playful banter. Glenn was attractive, thoughtful, intelligent, and interesting, and so much easier to be with than Flann. Abby wasn’t plagued by the unsettled, simmering emotions Flann incited. She should have been relieved, but for some strange reason, she wasn’t.
Chapter Twenty-one
A little after seven in the morning, Flann finished up a trauma case that had run all night. She’d been up almost two days and two nights with only a few scattered hours of sleep. The world had condensed to the surgical field in front of her for so long that when she lifted her head to glance at the clock, it took her a few seconds to orient herself. She grinned at Glenn across the table, and Glenn grinned back. Glenn’s face was hidden behind a surgical mask, but she could read Glenn’s emotions from her eyes after years of doing it. Glenn was as exhausted and exhilarated as her. They’d won another one. “Good job.”
“Same to you,” Glenn said in her husky alto.
The twenty-year-old motorcyclist had gone off the road on a slippery curve in a rainstorm and arrived in the ER a little after midnight. With his broken leg, wrist, collarbone, and punctured lung, she would have ordinarily stabilized him and sent him to a tertiary care center for ortho treatment and rehab. Unfortunately, he’d had no blood pressure when he’d been wheeled in by the paramedics doing CPR. His belly had been as hard as a board. Her bet had been ruptured spleen. Glenn voted for liver laceration. They’d both been right and then some. His abdomen was a war zone. Along with a ruptured spleen and lacerated liver, he’d torn his small intestine.
They got the bleeding under control as soon as they got his spleen out, repaired the liver laceration, and put his small bowel back together. Somehow, he’d managed not to break his neck or fracture his spine, and he was young enough he’d likely survive the multiple trauma and insult to his major systems without too much in the way of long-term side effects. He’d still be looking at a week in the intensive care unit and six times that in rehab if he was lucky. But then, he was damn lucky.
Flann stepped back from the table as Glenn carefully applied the dressings and secured his chest tube and other lines for the transfer to the gurney. Flann pulled off her mask, shed her gown and gloves, and called thanks to the anesthesiologist and the nurses on her way out of the room. Her legs were rubbery and her head muzzy. She contemplated taking herself off emergency call, but chances were another one wouldn’t come in anyhow. If it did, she could always punt or transfer if she couldn’t handle it. Once in the locker room she stripped, stumbled like a zombie back to the shower stalls, and stepped under the spray.
“Cripes,” she gasped, when the cold water doused her head. While she fought with the dial to regulate the temperature, her mind cleared and she got her second wind. She’d be good for another half a day at least. And the day stretched ahead of her like a long, empty hallway. Not knowing how long she’d be tied up with the trauma, she’d left a message with her answering service halfway through the case to reschedule her morning hours. Barring emergencies, her time was her own. She didn’t really have anything to do with it—work was her recreation as well as her profession. Other than playing softball four nights a week in the spring and summer, she didn’t do much else except work, take a woman out to dinner or a movie a few times a month, and find reasons not to leave the hospital. The hospital was the core of her social life. Like a lot of single doctors, or those who weren’t single but weren’t in any hurry to get home, she spent a fair amount of time hanging around, talking to other staff in the cafeteria or the OR lounge or the ER.
Unfortunately, the only person she really wanted to talk to was Abby, and she’d been avoiding her. She hadn’t seen her since the morning she’d left Presley’s while Abby was asleep. Abby hadn’t been on call the night before when the trauma came in, and she’d managed not to see her the day before either. Avoiding her turned out to be a lot easier than not thinking about her. When she wasn’t completely focused on an operation or patient evaluation, like now, memories of those few moments in Abby’s room replayed in vivid detail. Who knew her body had perfect recall? She didn’t usually dwell on a physical encounter, but she couldn’t get those few moments with Abby out of her head. Every second seemed imprinted on her skin—when Abby had been pressed so close against her even air couldn’t find room between them, when Abby’s arms had wrapped around her neck and her fingers drove into her hair, pulling her head down for a deeper kiss, urging her to plunder and claim.
Flann’s clitoris twitched. “God damn it.”
She was too damn old to get riled up from just a kiss, and definitely not from only thinking about a kiss. She slid her palm down her belly and pressed the swelling between her thighs with her fingertips. She caught her breath. She wasn’t too old for jerking off in the shower, but not in the locker room. And not while she was thinking about a woman she’d already moved past.
She twisted off the dial, stepped out, and grabbed one of the skimpy towels housekeeping provided for staff use. She’d taken the dressing off her leg the day before, and she carefully dried the area around the sutures before cursorily mopping up the rest of the water on her skin and hair. The leg looked fine. Abby had done a good job. As she patted the sutures, the image of Abby kneeling before her, wrapping a bandage around her thigh, jumped into her consciousness and the faint throb between her legs became a piercing ache.
She’d seen herself then, could see herself now, sliding her hand into the hair at the nape of Abby’s neck and guiding her face upward until her mouth closed over her. Her thighs suddenly weakened and she shot out her arm to brace herself against the wall. Her belly tightened, the need a fist twisting in the pit of her stomach. She blew out a long breath and forced her mind to blank.
Glenn came in as she was pulling on jeans and a plain wh
ite T-shirt, and gave her the diversion she needed. “Everything quiet?”
“Looks like it.” Glenn opened her locker and pulled out her street clothes and a motorcycle helmet. “I’ll have my beeper if you need me.”
“Aren’t you off today?”
Glenn grinned as she changed and tossed her scrubs. “Yeah, but it’s more fun being here.”
Flann laughed, but the sound rang hollowly in her ears. “True.”
“See you,” Glenn said on her way out the door.
“Ride safe.” Flann dialed the recovery room from the phone by the door. When the clerk answered, she said, “This is Rivers. Can I talk to George Baker’s nurse?”
“Hold on.”
“Hi, Flann,” another woman said a moment later.
Flann recognized the voice. Becky McAllister. Twenty-five, blond, bright, great breasts, and dynamite in bed. They’d had a few breathless weeks half a year ago before Becky decided she’d rather settle down with her old high-school boyfriend. No hard feelings on Flann’s part. She’d known Becky was experimenting, but that didn’t bother her. In fact, it made things a lot easier. Becky was looking for a good time in bed, and Flann knew just how to deliver that.
Abby, now, she wasn’t looking for a bedmate. She wasn’t looking for anything at all, at least she didn’t think she was. Flann wasn’t sure she agreed. Abby was passionate, intelligent, sensitive, and giving. She wasn’t the kind of woman to spend her life alone, if she’d look past all her responsibilities and see she deserved a life. What was it Abby had said? A couple of kids, a house with a yard, a dog or two. Yeah, she could see Abby there. Abby was born for family.
“Flann?”
“Hey, Becky,” Flann said with a start. “How’s Baker doing?”
“He’s good. Vitals are stable. The last blood gas was normal,” Becky said. “How are you?”
“Great. You?”
“Oh, sure, great.” Becky paused. “You know, no law says we couldn’t get together for a drink sometime. Talk about old times.”