the program and figure out what’s next. The doctor in charge is already offering me a job here—well, almost—so who knows. If things work out...”
“Is he sexy?”
Leave it to Hannah to cut to the bottom line. “To you, maybe. He’s tall, well built. Rugged. But I’m not looking for sexy.” Dredging up a quick mental recall of Dr. Jack Hanson, she decided he was, indeed, sexy. Nice muscles. Strong. She especially liked the three-day growth of stubble on his face. His longish dark brown hair. His charcoal eyes. OK, maybe she’d been too long without a man in her life since just picturing him gave her a little tingle. But having a man, or not having one, had never been her focus. And she wasn’t about to make that any kind of a focus now.
“You’re not looking, period. Remember that firefighter...what was his name?”
“Um...I don’t remember.” Actually, she did. And he’d been a hunk and a half. And caught up in one of those complicated situations halfway between married and divorced. In her life, there was never room for anything complicated so she’d moved on. But that was going on to two years ago now, and she’d never had a date since. Even then, their dates hadn’t really been dates. More like chance encounters. A few minutes here, a few there. Nothing special.
“Liar,” her friend accused. “He was great.”
“He was thinking about going back to his wife.”
“OK, maybe he was a bad choice. But how will you ever know a good choice if you don’t allow yourself to look?”
“I’ll look. Just not right now.”
“Well, all I’m saying is keep your options open. You owe yourself a little fun. And a future outside your job.”
A future outside her job? The words rattled around in her brain long after she’d quit talking to Hannah. And, they scared her, because she was good at her job. Felt safe in it. But outside it...what had she ever had that was worth anything? Had there ever been anything in life that had made her feel safe? No, there hadn’t.
Well, Hannah may have been right about some things, but changing herself was easier said than done. Her life had always been about survival, and when you lived only to survive, everything else took a back seat. Quite honestly, she didn’t know any other way to live. Mentally and emotionally—sure, there was more to it, and she envied the people she could see having that kind of life. But for Carrie survival mode always took over. In and out of foster homes from the age of five until she was sixteen. Then bumped out to the street, living on her own, by her wits. Eating out of trash bins, avoiding the bad people, the bad influences. Always wanting more. Always knowing that if she could find the way, she could have it. Always fighting to get ahead and never giving up. That’s who she was because she didn’t know how to be anything else.
Glumly, Carrie set aside her soup and put Bella on her lead, then walked over to the field and simply stood there as Bella sniffed around, then pulled her in different directions, investigating all her options. For her dog, it was an easy thing. Find it then follow it. But for her, that had always hurt. Too many times over her growing-up years she’d thought she’d found it, only to be turned away. She’d had to become hard to survive. She’d had to become disengaged to keep from getting hurt. Problem was she didn’t know how to engage now. At thirty-three she didn’t have a clue.
“Too many years alone,” she said to Bella, as they headed back to the apartment a little while later. “Sort of like the way you were when I found you. Alone, wounded.” Except Bella’s wounds had healed. Carrie’s, on the other hand, had not. They were too deep. Too ingrained in who she was. “Part and parcel,” she said, leading Bella up the stairs. “That which has to be accepted as part of something else.” Or, in other words, as part of her.
Once inside, Carrie debated returning to her reading or stretching out on the lumpy sofa bed. The bed won, so she stripped down to her undies, climbed in, pulled the blanket up over her and shut her eyes, even though she wasn’t the least bit tired or sleepy. But sleeping beat staying awake, thinking about her place in life. Something she was prone to doing too often.
And ten seconds later thoughts of Jack Hanson flashed across her mind. She tingled a little, unwilling recollections skittering across her mind. His body—the muscles. His eyes—so intense. And the smile that didn’t come easily, but when it did was so...warm. Inviting. She rubbed her arms against the goose bumps coming to life. All over an image in her head. Men didn’t affect her that way. She didn’t let them. But the more she thought about Jack, and the more she tingled, the more her goose bumps marched up and down.
Sighing, she turned on her side, hoping a new position would bring on different thoughts. But it didn’t work as Jack was still playing with her. She didn’t really know anything about him. He was gruff, which she didn’t mind. Very direct, which attracted her. And dedicated. Maybe that was his best quality. She liked dedication. Liked someone with a purpose, a destination, and it seemed that Jack had both.
He wasn’t married, she finally decided, after turning over to her other side, realizing she was fighting a losing battle. Jack would leave her mind in his own good time, and there wasn’t much she could do to control it. No, not married...at least, he didn’t wear a wedding band. No trace of one either. And there was nothing else about him to indicate he was.
His appearance was a little unkempt, in a rugged way. Didn’t have a wife’s finishing touch. Or what she thought should be a wife’s touch. What she’d do if she were a wife. But was he involved? Did he get involved or was he a player? “No,” she said, still trying to force the thought of him from her head as she climbed out of bed, headed to the sink for a drink of water, and was interrupted partway across the room with the “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik” jingle of her cell phone.
“Kellem here,” she said, when her caller ID failed to note who was on the other end.
“Jack Hanson.” Simple response. No embellishments.
“What can I do for you, Dr. Hanson?” she asked, not sure what to make of a call coming in at nearly eleven o’clock.
“We have a medical situation. You mentioned that you might want to take a part-time job as a paramedic. So, if that’s the case, you’re hired.”
“A case? As in?”
“Priscilla Anderson, one of our senior residents, is having a heart episode—not sure if it’s an attack or what—and she can’t get to us, so we need to get to her. I’m in my truck, I’ve got your address, and I’m two minutes away. Be ready. It’s going to be a hike, so be ready for that, too. Oh, and that garage you’re living above...there’s a better apartment over Millie’s Diner. A little more room, not as run-down. Probably safer.”
“And more expensive. This place is fine. Easy on the budget.”
“Suit yourself. But if you change your mind...” With that, he clicked off, leaving Carrie standing there, practically naked, staring at the phone, like that was going to give her more information. Which, of course, it didn’t. So, three minutes later, she ran down the outside steps of her apartment and straight to the pickup truck parked in front of it. With Bella at her heels.
“You’re not bringing that dog, are you?” Jack grumbled, instead of greeting her with a “Hello” or “Glad you could make it.” Or even doing the polite thing by opening the truck door for her.
“She won’t get in the way.”
“She’ll
