Lexy's Little Matchmaker. Lynda Sandoval

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Lexy's Little Matchmaker - Lynda Sandoval Mills & Boon Cherish

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you to, you’re going to press that needle down into your daddy’s leg and hold it there for ten full seconds so he gets all the medicine. That’s very important. We’ll count the time together, okay?”

      “’Kay,” he said, in a whimper.

      “Now, do as I say. Put the tip of the shot against his upper leg and I’ll count to three. Then you’ll press down as hard as you can. And we’ll count out the seconds.”

      “W-will it hurt ‘im?”

      “No, sweetie, not at all. It just may save his life. Be strong for your daddy now, okay?”

      “’Kay.”

      “Ready?”

      “Yeah.”

      “One, two, three—go, Ian.”

      “I did it!”

      “Hold it down hard, no matter what, and let’s count,” she said in a rush. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten,” they said together.

      Nothing.

      Lexy held her breath. Dane stood frozen.

      Even Ian remained silent.

      A muffled, unintelligible groan carried over the line, and Lexy had to blink back tears of relief and clamp her knuckles over her lips to maintain her cool.

      “He’s wakin’ up, Lexy! He’s wakin’ up!”

      She swallowed several times, leveled her tone. “Good, Ian.You did an excellent, excellent job.”

      “Daddy? Daddy! Wake up!”

      “The paramedics are almost there, okay, Ian? And they’ll take over. They’ll take good care of your daddy.”

      “Ian?” she heard a deep male voice slur.

      As expected, at the sound of his daddy’s voice, Ian lapsed into full-blown “refreak,” bursting into gut-wrenching, breath-stealing, choking and gagging sobs.

      “Ian, hand the phone to your daddy,” she said in a loud, firm tone, before she lost him completely. “Ian!”

      Some fumbling, then, “Hello?”

      “Drew Kimball?”

      “Ah.yeah?”

      “My name’s Lexy. This is Troublesome Gulch 9-1-1.”

      “Allergic,” he slurred. “Bees.”

      “I know. Ian told me. Don’t try to talk.” She could still hear Ian’s gulping wails in the background and they tore at her heart. “Just relax right where you are. The epinephrine your son administered will hold you over. Paramedics are almost there to help you, so hang tight.”

      He blew out a breath. “Yeah. ‘S okay, pal. C’mere.” A pause. “My son okay?” he asked Lexy.

      She smiled for the first time since that line had rung. “Mr. Kimball, Ian is much more than okay. He just saved your life.”

      Lexy stayed on the line until Drew slurred that the paramedics were tromping up the path toward them, then wished him luck and hit the F8 key to disconnect.

      “Holy—” She eased out a long breath and pushed her fingers into her hair, yearning for some kind of an adrenaline dump. “Great job finding that trailhead so fast, Dane.”

      “Thanks. You, too, boss,” he said, admiration threaded through his tone. He wiped perspiration from his temples with the backs of his wrists. “Great job with everything. I heard his wail through your headset when you picked up.”

      “He was pretty panicked.”

      “Well, it was one amazing save.”

      “I’ll say” came an unexpected voice from the back of the room.

      Lexy swiveled around to find three uniformed men standing at the divider wall, observing the action. Chief Ken Hayward from TG Paramedics had spoken the words. Police Chief Bill Bishop and Fire Chief John Dresden flanked him. All members of the interdepartmental brass had offices one floor above the dispatch center in the main emergency services building, and all of them had radio scanners on their desks. “Chiefs, wow. Sorry, I didn’t even hear you guys come in,” Lexy said, raising her eyebrows quizzically at Dane.

      “Nope, me, neither.”

      “No worries. We didn’t intend to interrupt. Just watching the magic happen,” Chief Dresden said. “We headed down as soon as we heard the call go out. You both handled that amazingly well.”

      “Thank you,” Lexy and Dane said together.

      Police Chief Bishop stepped forward, gesturing toward the console. “Lexy, how old was that caller?”

      “I’m not sure. He was so freaked out, it was hard to get a bead.Young, though. Definitely well under ten. Maybe … five or six? Seven at the most.”

      “You did a helluva job with him,” Chief Bishop said.

      Unreal. A compliment like that was huge coming from Chief Bishop, also known to Lexy as her friend Cagney’s taskmaster father. But she knew from Cagney that he’d been actively working on changing his ways since his wife left him. Lexy gave him credit for that. She bestowed a genuine smile on him. “Thanks, Chief. Actually, though, the boy’s the one who deserves kudos for the save. He did everything I asked of him and more. And get this.” She paused. They all waited. “Apparently today is the two-year anniversary of his mother’s death.”

      A murmur of shock rippled through the room.

      “Do we know this Drew Kimball?” Chief Dresden asked, eyes narrowed in thought. “Is he local? Name doesn’t ring a bell.”

      “I’ve met him. He’s a recent transplant. Or re-transplant. His family lived here when he was a kid, apparently,” Chief Bishop said. “He moved back with his son. Opened that small gym near the youth center, in the old drugstore building.”

      “Ah, yes.”

      Lexy had noticed the new gym when she’d dropped by Cagney’s. She’d never been inside.

      The chiefs exchanged glances. “Once they’ve got the patient packaged and en route to the hospital, let’s get as much information as we can about our young caller,” Chief Hayward said. “Sounds like a perfect candidate for the Troublesome Gulch Hero Award, and we haven’t had one of those in a while.”

      Lexy felt her muscles unlocking like a puzzle, her heartbeat returning to normal, pump by pump. “What a great idea. Maybe it’ll help to take the edge off this sad day for him. Give him a new memory to associate with it.”

      Just then, the electronic door beeped, and Genean dance-bopped in carrying white takeout bags and a soda, earbuds from her iPod in and clearly pumping some wildly upbeat tune into her brain. She stopped short, glancing from person to person, then hooked her finger

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