When they’d arrived, Old Salty had already been untying his fishing boat’s thick bow lines off the dockside cleats.
“Should be any minute now.” Salty squinted into the mist, not an ounce of concern about him.
How did he do that? There was a broken-down ferry, possibly taking on water. Two patients on board who should already be in the clinic’s small but up-to-date intensive care unit. And a new employee he had absolutely no information about. Cody had handled the interviews with her so he had no information on what she’d be like. Scared. Capable. Bewildered. Dead?
His phone buzzed. Cody. His human wall to bounce ideas off. Half the time he never knew if Cody was even listening to him. The other half? He’d never met a smarter, more committed surgeon in his life. Two single dads doing their best to bring their children up in a world they never thought they’d be navigating alone.
Or, as Cody had pronounced when they’d finalized their building plans, “Life’s a bitch, and then you build a clinic.”
“Any news on your end, Cody?”
He heard a slapping sound. No doubt Cody’s hand against the counter. Frustration was definitely getting the better of both of them. “No. I was hoping you’d have some. Hey, listen, there’s something I need to warn you about Maggie—”
The line cut out.
Alex stared at the phone. What did he mean? Way to end on a cliff hanger.
“Look over there, boy,” Salty ordered.
Boy?
Alex bit back a mirthless laugh. It had gotten a bit too much use of late.
He hadn’t been a boy let alone felt like one since...far too long.
No point in pretending he couldn’t remember. The last time he’d felt properly young had been the moment he’d fallen in love with his wife. And that had been a long time ago. Best-looking woman in boot camp. Smartest, too. Had known her way round combat medicine as if she’d been born on a battlefield. A heart the size of the whole of New York City. Six years after her death, and he still struggled to believe someone so vital had been snuffed out in an instant. That was the only mercy. She’d never seen it coming.
“You can just make them out there.”
He tugged his wool hat back on and followed the line of Salty’s thick finger as he pointed toward a dark object in the distance largely obscured by the murky weather.
“Got it. Let’s get those children on board this boat and get them back to the clinic before anything else goes wrong.”
DOCKING A BOAT to an engine-less ferry perched on a jagged rocky outcrop in the midst of a winter storm was no mean feat. It wasn’t sinking at the moment—but it certainly wasn’t sitting at an angle that was going to hold for much longer if the waves grew any fiercer.
With each surge and lift of the fishing boat he could see the ambulance. He’d half expected to see it on its side, doors flapping and a whole lot of other things that weren’t very pleasant.
It was upright and solidly strapped to various posts by four thick docking ropes. Someone was a clever-clogs.
“Right, boy. That’s the Flying Cod cinched in. You want to get these little ’uns on board and back to the island?” Salty nodded at the rope ladder one of the ferry’s crew had just flung their way.
“Absolutely.”
Alex pulled himself up and over the railing and ran. He only just managed to pull himself to a halt as the double doors at the back of the ambulance swung open.
The storm, the high-octane adrenaline that came with the insane rescue mission, Old Salty’s salty language...none of it had the impact she did.
Hair like spun gold and flames. The biggest pair of brown eyes he’d ever seen. There were probably flecks of gold in them if the light was right. Pitch-black lashes giving them that added visual punch. Cheeks pinked up with the cold or...hell, he didn’t know why a woman’s cheeks pinked up. All he knew was that he’d better get some oxygen back into his lungs so he could speak.
She had a rope on her shoulder coiled up like a lasso.
“Hope that’s not for me.”
Kicking himself would be a good option about now.
She gave him a sideways look and a quick up-down scan. “Could be if you play your cards right.”
Was he—? Were they—?
This wasn’t flirting, was it?
“We should get a move on.”
Nice one, Alex. Way to roll out the charm.
“Absolutely.” She gave him a bright smile. “We probably need all hands on deck—like a human chain—in case the sea goes all bouncy-bouncy on us again. Although that’s why we put up the guide lines.” They both turned and looked at the ropes holding the ambulance in place. He saw now that there were more ropes tied at a higher level, serving as hand grips.
“You did this?”
She shrugged as if tying a vehicle with two extremely injured children inside of it during a freak winter storm was an everyday sort of thing for her. “With help from the ambo team and the ferry crew. You’re Dr. Kirkland, right? Maggie Green.”
She put out a hand.
He ignored it.
There’d only been one other woman who’d sucker-punched him into sensory overload quite so fast and the only place he could visit her was at her graveside.
Maggie’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to get the measure of him. She withdrew her hand and gave him a nod in a way that suggested she saw him for what he was. A man at war with himself.
That made a change. Most people thought he was an uptight stick-in-the-mud. Rules. Regulations. The world’s most boring man.
He wasn’t that guy.
He hadn’t been, at least.
“All right, doc?” Billy appeared from around the corner, pulling on a reflective waterproof with the Boston Harbor logo sewn onto the front.
A wave bashed the side of the ferry and threw them all off balance. Maggie fell forward from her perch in the ambulance door. Alex lunged forward, just managing to keep the pair of them upright.
His breath caught as she steadied herself, using his chest as an anchor. It was the first time he’d ever been grateful to be wearing five layers of clothes. Her hand on his bare chest? Just thinking about it shot his temperature up to the stratosphere.
Her eyes widened as they met his. A hot, intense connection froze the pair of them in place.
“You
