Protecting What's Mine(16)

“Crew had the usual round of cuts and bumps and bruises. Rookie had some burns from hauling your cute butt out of the car, but you got the worst of it injury-wise.”

“She didn’t have any gear on.” He sighed. “I told her to work triage.”

“Lucky for her, there was an ear, nose, and throat doc whose Mercedes got turned into a tin can. He took over triage until the EMTs got there. How’d she do on her first big call?”

Linc walked through it in his head. “Good. Kept her head. She was excited. But not in the unhinged rodeo clown kind of way.”

“She’s gonna be a good addition to the crew,” Kelly predicted.

“Seems so.”

“I mean, we still have to razz her.”

“Of course. It’s part of the process.”

“Oh, since you were bumming around the emergency department yesterday, I wrote up a draft of your DR for you.”

“Bless you, Wu.”

“Yeah, you just remember that when I ask for the next Fourth of July off.”

She stood and brushed bagel crumbs off her pants. “Need anything before I head out?”

“Nope. Hoping it’ll be a quiet one after yesterday. Go on home.”

Kelly gave Sunshine an enthusiastic ruffle before heading out the door. “Keep that shoulder rested,” she called.

“Yeah. Yeah.”

She left, but Kelly was just the first one through his door for the day.

“Yo, chief! How’s the shoulder?” Hairy Harry poked his head in.

“I barely recognize you without the ’stache,” Linc said. The man had had one as long as Linc could remember.

Harry brushed a hand over his stubbled lip. “Be back in no time. Sounds like you guys had quite the mess yesterday.”

One of the worst things for a firefighter was missing out on the big call.

“It was ugly,” Linc agreed and mentally pushed back his DR and email for another ten minutes to shoot the shit.

It was the theme of the day apparently.

His eight-thirty briefing was interrupted no less than three times by neighbors “just dropping by.” Most brought goodies with them, so the interruptions weren’t exactly annoying. It was a sign of the kind of community they lived in. They were all involved. Everyone had stakes in everyone else’s lives. An accident, a trauma, had wide-reaching effect. Like ripples in a pond.

With the day shift tucked into the upstairs conference room for classroom training on responding to calls with victims with special needs, Linc headed back to his office. His shoulder hurt. His hand burned. But his mind was working on a different problem.

One Dr. Dreamy.

She wasn’t exactly resistant to his charm. She seemed to enjoy it, had even flirted back. But she’d made it clear she wasn’t looking for any extracurricular excitement with him.

He found the push-pull of her interest and disinterest in him fascinating.

It had gotten him burned before in the past. The strong, interesting woman who caught his eye, made him hope hopes and think thoughts. It hadn’t panned out. But he’d never stopped hoping.

He tapped out a beat on the desk with the tip of his pen, debating. He could afford a few more dents, he decided. Better to regret something he’d done than something he hadn’t.

He picked up the phone and dialed.

“Yeah, hey, Gloria. How do you feel about making up one of those pretty bouquets for me?”





8





Dunnigan and Associates was located in a barn red single-level building on the way out of town past the high school. The concrete ramp and steps that led to the front door of the office were clean enough to eat from. Inside, the waiting room smelled faintly of fresh paint.

The chairs were the standard kind found in family doctor waiting rooms around the country, wooden legs with mint green cushions. A tiny table and chairs topped with coloring books and fat crayons sat in a corner next to a fish tank. Some little colorer had gotten overzealous and scribbled orange zigzags on the off-white wall.

There was a mother holding a flush-cheeked toddler on her lap. She was reading a Frog and Toad book to him.

The girl behind the front desk looked up. She had the cheerleader look. Bright eyes. Bouncy curls that went from warm brown at the roots to glossy caramel at the ends. Perfect shimmery makeup. And a beauty queen smile.

“Hi! You must be Dr. O’Neil,” the girl said, rising. “I’m Tuesday, and I’m so happy to meet you.”

Oh, boy. A sincere cheerleader.

Well, Mack wanted different. So rather than a military pilot nicknamed Buzz who spit tobacco out the chopper door, she now had Tuesday. This was already a significant step up.

“Hi. Yes. Tuesday.” Years of dealing with unconscious patients had apparently rendered her unable to communicate with the conscious.

Nerves. It was vaguely funny that the big, bad helicopter doc was nervous about practicing a little ol’ family medicine.

A woman, short, comfortably round with a close-cropped cap of jet-black hair and more eye makeup than Cruella de Vil, bustled out of a doorway. She wore unsullied white orthopedic sneakers and purple scrubs.

“Freida, Dr. O’Neil is here,” Tuesday announced cheerily. Mack wondered where Tuesday had been in the pyramid foundation.

“Dr. O’Neil. Nice to meet you,” Freida said. Extending a hand. Her nails were short and polish-free, but she wore four jeweled rings to make up for it.