Simple Twist of Fate: Fated, Book 3

by Karen Erickson

  Chapter One

  He checked his cell phone. Again. And he wasn’t discreet about it this time either. He blatantly whipped it out of his pocket, looked at the time and sighed loudly. Right before his gaze cut to her half finished dinner plate.

  Morgan pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t say anything rude. The guy was an ass. There were no other words to describe him. And the date had started only a little over an hour ago…

  She was in for a torturous night. She just knew it.

  “If we don’t leave now—” her date, Don the jerkbag paused, still staring at her plate of food, “—we’ll end up being late. And I have to see the beginning of this game. It’s important.”

  He was a Lakers fan, and she wasn’t. How did Mia know this guy again? Was he a friend of her boyfriend’s? Oh, Morgan really hoped not. Jake was way too nice to hang out with a selfish jerk like this guy.

  “I guess I can get the rest of it in a to-go box…”

  “Awesome. Waitress!” He yelled at their server, garnering the attention of more than a few people in the busy restaurant and she wanted to slither under the table. Blind dates were the worst. Mia had been bit by some sort of weird matchmaking bug, and she was on the constant hunt for the right guy for Morgan.

  Yet again, it was a bad choice, not that she could blame Mia. Her friend’s intentions were good. But this was it. No more blind dates. She’d rather be single with fifty cats living in a one-room shack than go on an endless stream of crappy dates with awful guys.

  The waitress took Morgan’s plate and offered her a sympathetic smile as if she understood the torture she was enduring. Don practically wiggled in his seat, his knee bouncing up and down so fast he made the table vibrate.

  Someone was just a little too eager to get to a freakin’ basketball game, for the love of God. Morgan had agreed to go on the date just for the experience since she’d never been to a live professional basketball game before but jeez.

  This guy was ridiculous.

  He threw a few twenties on the table the moment the waitress returned with her leftover dinner in a plastic bag and packed in a Styrofoam container. Don leaped from his chair, waving an impatient hand in Morgan’s direction.

  “Let’s go,” he tossed over his shoulder as he started for the front entrance.

  She trailed behind and clutched the bag tight. Dang it, she was still hungry. And she really didn’t want to go to the game with him after all. During the entire—and very quick—dinner he’d been short with her. He didn’t seem interested in anything she had to say though he didn’t have a problem talking her ear off about himself.

  Don was already at the front door, pushing it open against the hard wind that blew outside. Morgan hurried her steps and tried to slide through the open space but the heavy glass door whipped back with the wind, the metal edge catching Morgan on the forehead.

  And she went sprawling to the floor.

  “Hey.”

  The voice was low and rumbling. She’d never heard it before.

  She wanted to hear it again.

  “Hey. You awake?” Gentle fingers brushed against her forehead, and she winced. God, that hurt. And was her head wet? How did that happen?

  Morgan tried to lift her eyelids, but it felt like a thousand bricks sat on top of them. Her entire head throbbed.

  “Listen, I’m like way late, and the game is already in the second quarter.” Ah, she recognized that voice, unfortunately. It was her blind date.

  “Hold on, dude,” Mister Low Voice said, sounding completely irritated, which automatically made him her hero. “We’re going to need to wrap her head and take her in.”

  “Take her in? What do you mean? To the hospital?” Don’s voice was in full-on whine mode. “I don’t have time for this.”

  “From what I understand, you’re the one who did it to her.” The disgust in her hero’s voice was blatant, and she wanted to laugh.

  But it would hurt too much. She couldn’t even open her eyes let alone say anything.

  “It was the wind, man. How could that be my fault?”

  As if on cue, the wind whipped around them, brushing swiftly across her prone body and she realized she was lying on the ground. They must’ve dragged her away from the door because she wasn’t on the sidewalk. The grass was damp beneath her and so cold. She shivered and slowly cracked opened her eyes.

  “Ah, there you are.”

  She focused in on the face before her, and she swore time actually stopped. Her hero was drop dead gorgeous. He watched her with dark blue eyes, his mouth curved in the slightest smile. He was making-her-panties-dissolve-and-her-heart-flutter gorgeous, even while her head hurt and blood dripped down the side of her face.

  Reaching up, she touched her temple and felt the sticky trickle of blood. Her eyes slid closed, and her stomach roiled. God, there was so much of it…

  “You’re okay,” he reassured as he dabbed at the center of her forehead, right along her hairline with some sort of antiseptic that stung like crazy. “All head wounds bleed profusely. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

  Which meant she looked really, really bad and he looked really, really good.

  She had the worst luck ever.

  “You’re going to be okay, right, Morgan?” She opened her eyes to see Don walking alongside the other paramedic who approached pushing a gurney. Don’s expression was hopeful, and he bounced on the balls on his feet. She’d ruined his entire night with her little incident.

  She couldn’t help the sizzle of satisfaction that ran through her at the thought.

  “I’m okay,” she said, not sure if she meant it. She looked at her hero, the paramedic with the sexy blue eyes and close-cropped dark hair and he nodded. “You can go to your game if you want.”

  “I can?” Don sounded like a child who’d just been given his greatest wish.

  “Totally.” The last thing she wanted was him hanging around making her anxious and irritating the crap out of her. She didn’t even know this guy.

  “Thanks, Morgan. You’re awesome.” She wanted to roll her eyes, but it would hurt too much. “I’ll call you.”

  “It’s not necessary,” she said weakly but he didn’t hear her. He was already jogging toward the parking lot.

  “Is he your boyfriend?” her hero asked the moment Don was out of earshot.

  Morgan tried to shake her head but it hurt too much. “No. Blind date.”

  “Good thing. He’s a complete—“

  “Jerk?” she offered.

  “I was going to say something stronger, but jerk will suffice.” He smiled, and the dazzling sight of it stole her breath. He could slay dragons with that smile. “Can you sit up? We need to get you in the ambulance.”

  “I can walk,” she protested, groaning when he helped her into a sitting position. That door had really done a number on her.

  “Are you sure? We need to clean you up. Wrap your head and stop the blood before we take you to the hospital.”

  “Is it that bad?”

  “Nah.” He shook his head with an easy smile. “It’s a definite gash and there’s a lot of blood, but a couple of staples and you’ll be good to go.”

  “Staples?” Her stomach pitched violently. That sounded horrendous. They weren’t talking about a pile of paper. This was her head he wanted to—staple.

  “You’re going to be okay.”

  She wanted to believe him. She really liked looking at him. And when he helped her stand, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, his muscles flexing and bunching as he pulled her to her feet. Tingles scattered all over her skin at his touch, his nearness.

  Of course, she was at her absolute worst. Blood streami
ng down her head from a horrible wound and she was a little woozy, a lot in pain and oh yeah, on a date with the biggest jerk on the planet. Not her best moment to shine.

  Most likely her hero had a girlfriend. Why wouldn’t he? He was an absolute catch.

  And she was an absolute mess.

  It really wasn’t her night.

  Despite the blood and the obvious date she was on, she was cute. The guy she was with, on the other hand, was a complete asshole. He’d been ready to ditch her from the moment they arrived on scene. All over a frickin’ basketball game—the guy had the balls to inform them he was missing the first half because of what happened the second they piled out of the truck.

  Nothing like a selfish jackass who worried about his precious game while a woman lay bleeding on the grass.

  Evan carefully wound the gauze around her head nice and tight to stem the flow of blood. It had slowed to a mere trickle by the time they got her into the back of the ambulance, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. It was a deep gash but nothing terribly serious. That door had caught her just right, and she’d need a few staples along the edge of her hairline.

  He didn’t dare mention staples again, though. The first time had nearly sent her into a panic. And the last thing he wanted was a panicked patient.

  She smiled at him when he finished wrapping her head, and a little zing zapped through him. Her shoulder-length dark brown hair was a haphazard mess, sticking out in odd waves because of the half-mummy look the gauze gave her. Bits of dried blood were still on the side of her face, and she watched him silently with big, dark velvety brown eyes.

  Eyes he could drown in if he didn’t watch out.

  Shaking his head, he went about his tasks with measured efficiency, putting away supplies then making sure she was comfortable. He’d been a paramedic for six years, and he was damn good at his job. So good it tended to take over his life, but hell, the overtime pay was worth it. He had enough time for a social life later. Right now, he had a job to do and plenty of money to make. He had big goals, wanting to save for a piece of land in the country and eventually build a house on it.

  “Thank you for helping me,” she said softly.

  “Just doing my job.” He shrugged, trying to pretend her appreciation didn’t mean anything beyond the usual.

  “You’re very good at it.” He met her gaze and lifted his brows. “Your job. You have a very…calming nature.”

  “Until I mention the word staples.” Her eyes widened, and he felt like a complete ass. “See? I did it again. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. It won’t hurt, right?”

  Nah, the staples never hurt. It was the shot the patients got in the head to numb them before the staples that usually had them freaking out. But he wasn’t about to mention that. “You’ll be fine.”

  “Of course, I will.” She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She looked worried more than anything, and he wanted to reassure her. Take her mind off what was going to happen next. They were still a few minutes from the hospital and traffic was kind of hectic, he could tell what with the crappy way his partner Wes was driving.

  “So that guy you were with…”

  She shook her head and winced. Her head was probably killing her. “My friend set me up with him.”

  “Does your friend hate you?”

  She giggled. “No, she’s one of my best friends. She means well, but the outcome is rarely successful. She just wants to see me happy.”

  “Happy with a jerk?” It was none of his business. He was just making idle conversation to pass the time.

  Yeah, right.

  “No, she wants me happy with a nice guy. But they’re never nice guys. They’re always sort of…weird. I think it’s me.” She frowned. “I must repel normal men or something. I attract weirdoes. Selfish guys who only care about the Lakers game they’re missing.”

  Evan laughed. “He must be a diehard fan.”

  “Totally. I only agreed to the date because I’ve never been to a professional basketball game before. And Mia swore he was a good guy.”

  “And you still didn’t get to go to that game.”

  “No, I didn’t.” Her smile was rueful. “He made me quit eating my dinner so we could get there in time for the beginning.”

  “What a loser.” Evan shook his head. He wouldn’t rush her for anything. Well, maybe for some hot and sweaty sex. There was nothing wrong with a quickie here and there…

  Jesus. What was wrong with him? He never thought of patients like that.

  “He was pretty awful. I think I’m going to ban myself from dating for a while.”

  Disappointment filled him. Not that he’d act on his urges. He had a strict rule—no dating patients. There were a few of his fellow paramedics who had no qualms asking out their injured patients. They had quite the reputation among their coworkers, but Evan wouldn’t do it. It was unprofessional.

  And more than anything, he was professional.

  “One bad date and you’re done?”

  “Oh, it’s been more than one bad date. More like an endless string of bad dates.” Her cheeks turned pink. “I probably shouldn’t be confessing any of this to you.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m making myself look worse. And you probably don’t even care to hear about my dating endeavors and how awful they are.” Her entire face was flushed.

  He smiled. “You’re cute when you’re all flustered.” There, he said it. He was flirting. If Wes had been there, he would’ve been shocked. He never flirted on the job.

  She tore her gaze from his, her teeth sinking into her lower lip—her very plump lower lip. “I must look awful.”

  She did look plenty awful but he still thought she was pretty. “I’ve seen worse.”

  “Great.” She rolled her eyes but smiled. “That makes me feel so much better.”

  “I just put my foot in my mouth, didn’t I?” How long had it been since the last time he was on a date? Did he forget everything he’d ever learned through the years in the care and wooing of a woman?

  “Don’t worry, you’re forgiven.” Her eyes sparkled, and he saw it. A flicker of interest, a hint of flirtatiousness in her tone. There was definitely some chemistry brewing between them.

  “I appreciate your quick apology.” The truck slowed and swayed when it made a right turn into the ambulance entrance of the hospital. Her eyes widened and she glanced around, a worried expression on her face.

  Unable to stop himself he reached for her and grasped her hand. Her fingers were slender, delicate and they trembled in his grip. Squeezing her hand gently, he smiled. “It’s going to be all right. I promise.”

  She blew out a harsh breath, trying to calm herself. “It will be. I know it will be, but I’m still…”

  “Scared?”

  “Yeah.” She exhaled again and tilted her head back, her eyes locked on the ceiling. “I’ve never had anything like this happen to me before. I’m sickeningly healthy.”

  He chuckled. “This is a minor blip. Next week you’ll be able to laugh about it.”

  She looked at him once more. “Do you think it’ll scar?”

  Probably. “It’s almost directly on your hairline so no one will notice.”

  “It’ll be a scar I can brag about.” She tried to joke, but even her voice was quivery. Her hand still trembled in his. He gave it another reassuring squeeze.

  “You can say you got into a bar fight. And you won.”

  “I think the door won.”

  He laughed. If he was lucky enough maybe he’d be the one who ended up winning.

  Her.

  Chapter Two

  Morgan left work early to go to the hospital. She had an appointment with the doctor who had taken care of her almost a week ago. The wretched, horrible little man who had sunk the long, sharp needle into her skull so she wouldn’t feel the staples going in.

  She wasn’t exactly sure, but she had a feeling she might’ve preferred the staples to that nee
dle.

  Her appointment was in the emergency services section so she pulled into the parking lot at the back of the hospital, searching each row for an empty slot. Finally finding one, she pulled the car in, grumbling under her breath at the distance she’d have to walk. The hospital was always packed. It didn’t matter what time of day it was.

  Thankfully, the doctor had reassured her the appointment would be quick and she’d be on her way in minutes. Considering it was a Friday, she should be thrilled. Out from work a few hours early and the weekend ahead of her, what could be better?

  How about not facing yet another lonely two days by herself? Mia was permanently attached to Jake’s side, and Jenna was going on a special weekend getaway trip with Brett. Considering the guy was a firefighter and rarely got a weekend off, this trip was special and much appreciated on Jenna’s part.

  Morgan frowned and got out of the car, shutting the door and hitting the remote so the car locked. She hated feeling sorry for herself. More than that, she hated being so—so jealous of what her friends had. They’d both found great guys in unusual circumstances and had fallen instantly, deeply in love. In like—days. Morgan had been skeptical of both relationships but here they were, still going strong. She had a sneaking suspicion Brett was going to ask Jenna to marry him this weekend.

  Jenna was going to get married, and she couldn’t even get a decent date. Life was completely unfair.

  As she made the long trek across the parking lot, her thoughts drifted yet again to the sexy paramedic who’d taken care of her. She’d never learned his name. The little gold name badge pinned to his uniform shirt pocked had said E. Marshall. Her imagination had taken flight the last few days, trying to come up with his name.

  Edward? Too stuffy.

  Elliott? Talk about stuffy.

  Eric? Not bad.

  Ethan? A possible candidate though she’d gone out with an Ethan in high school and what an egomaniac he’d been.

  Earl? Laughable.

  Eminem? His real name was Marshall Mathers, after all…

  Okay. Clearly, she was crazy.

  He’d been nice, her hero named E. Marshall. And sweet. Holding her hand when the ambulance pulled into the hospital, offering reassuring words in that low, measured voice. A voice she still heard in her dreams though he was murmuring much more exciting things. Like how much he wanted to kiss her or demanding that she take off all her clothes…