in case we get walk-ins? I can stay behind and gather the equipment.”
“I’ll help,” said one of the construction guys who had brought in his buddy. “We can put everything in my truck.”
Stephen figured his generosity had less to do with an altruistic nature and more to do with Rosie’s curvy, petite figure and warm brown eyes. In the past six months he’d learned that his incredibly efficient nurse was in her mid-thirties, divorced and kept to herself in her spare time. Sort of like Nora, he thought, eyeing the tall woman talking to a young mother with two scared but uninjured kids. Except Rosie always had a kind word for everyone and Nora had a chip on her shoulder the size of an SUV.
He and Rosie were about the same age. They were both single. He supposed that something should have sparked between them, but it hadn’t. They were work friends, nothing more. So far no woman had captured his attention—not that he was surprised.
He left Rosie with the calf-eyed construction guy and started walking back to the center of town. From the corner of his eye, he saw Nora move in his direction, then pause as if the thought of them sharing each other’s company was more than she could stand.
“I won’t bite,” he promised, motioning for her to join him.
She raised a single eyebrow. “I wasn’t worried about you doing anything,” she said in a bored tone that implied whatever he might want to do couldn’t be of interest to her.
Stephen considered himself a sensible man, but for the first time in a long time he felt himself wanting to respond to a challenge. Even more fascinating, as the tall beauty fell into step next to him, he found himself intrigued by the woman. Who was Nora Darby and why did she hate every man on sight?
“Thanks for your help today,” he said.
“Not a problem.” She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “We were lucky. There wasn’t much damage in town. I’ve talked to my mom on the cellular phone and I heard that our ranch is fine, but I don’t know about the others. You could get a few more injuries from the outlying areas.”
He hadn’t thought of that. “Good thing we’re going back to the office, then,” he said. “People will look for me there.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could say anything, a pickup truck doing at least fifty rounded the corner. The vehicle nearly went up on two wheels. The driver spotted them and started honking, then slid to a stop in the center of the road.
“Doc, Doc, you gotta help!” An old man climbed out of the cab and raced around to the bed of the truck. “My boy. He’s cut real bad.”
Stephen was already running toward the tailgate. He climbed up and registered that Nora had followed.
A man in his late twenties lay stretched out on several blankets. His skin was blue-white, his eyes closed, and there was blood everywhere.
Stephen heard a faint moan from beside him, but couldn’t spare her a glance. “Where is he cut?” he asked.
“On the upper arm, by his shoulder,” the old man said. “I put pressure on it but the blood wouldn’t stop.”
Stephen saw the wad of bandages and lifted them. Blood spurted. He shoved the cloths back in place. There was no way to tell how much blood the man had lost. Too much, for sure. He was already in shock.
Stephen looked at the old man. “Drive,” he commanded. “We’ve got to get him to my office. Now!”
The father complied, hurrying to slide behind the wheel. Stephen opened the first aid kit he’d carried back and dug out several thick bandages. He replaced the soaked ones with a fresh one and ordered Nora to press down hard on the open wound.
The truck bounced through the center of town and screeched to a halt in front of the medical offices.
“Don’t move,” he instructed Nora as he jumped down and ran inside.
Less than a minute later he returned with two IVs—O negative blood and saline. When he had them hooked up, he traded places with Nora.
“I’m going to have to sew him up,” he said, looking at her for the first time since he’d climbed in the back of the truck. She was nearly as white as his patient. “Can you help me?”
She nodded, then swallowed. “I need about thirty seconds first.”
For what? he wondered. But before he could ask, she scrambled out of the truck, ran to a nearby trash can and threw up. As promised, in thirty seconds, she was back at his side.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“No, but that doesn’t matter. I’m not going to pass out and if I have to puke again, I’ll do it over the side.”
She pulled on the gloves he passed her, then listened while he explained the procedure. When he handed her more bandages and an irrigation solution, she gamely did as he instructed. She had to pause to throw up again, but otherwise was as calm and efficient as Nurse Rosie herself.
It was dark by the time the ambulance had pulled away to take the man to the hospital. Nora leaned against the wall of the medical office and told herself to keep breathing. At least her stomach had settled in the past couple of hours. She hadn’t thrown up so much since a bout with the stomach flu three years before, and frankly she could happily go a lifetime without having it happen again.
But despite feeling weak and shaky, she was also proud. Even though her medical training consisted of knowing how to apply a Band-Aid, she’d been able to help today. She’d aided her community in its time of need.
She looked at the now-dark Snip ’n Clip and thought about going over to put everything to right in the shop. Electricity had been restored around five, so she could sweep and vacuum and…She sighed. Not tonight. She was too tired.
“How do you feel?”
She looked up and saw Stephen Remington walking toward her. He’d removed his blood-spattered coat along with his tie. Before she could answer, he touched her forehead, then reached for her wrist and took her pulse. What was more annoying than him touching her was the way her heartbeat seemed to flutter slightly at the contact. Okay, the man was a halfway decent doctor, she thought grudgingly. That didn’t give him the right to examine her.
“I’m fine,” she said, pulling free of his fingers and summoning a weak excuse for a glare. “Say thank you and move along.”
“Thank you,” he said. “But I’m not moving along. You haven’t had anything to eat today, and what you ate this morning is long gone.”
“In more ways than one,” she said, smiling in spite of herself.
“My point exactly. So let me express my gratitude in a practical way. Let me buy you dinner.” He pointed to the diner open at the end of the street. “I’ve sampled most of what they have on the menu. It’s not half-bad.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “Thanks for sharing that but you do realize that I was born in this town and that I’ve lived here all my life? Chances are I’ve eaten at the diner more times than you, so I don’t need your commentary on the menu.”
