Protecting What's Mine(67)

When she pulled up in front of the doors, Dr. Ling was standing by with her white coat flapping in the breeze and a pair of orderlies ready with a stretcher. Mrs. McDowell paled.

“You want them taking this seriously,” Mack said, squeezing her hand. “This is a good thing. Freida called your husband, and he’s on his way. Your mom will get the kids off the bus.”

Glassy-eyed, Mrs. McDowell nodded and climbed out. She hurried along behind the stretcher that held her little boy.

Mack parked the car and went inside.





31





By the time Mack got back to the office, it was late afternoon, and Dalton McDowell was going to be just fine. Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever wouldn’t be confirmed by the lab tests for a while, but Dr. Ling—after a quick internet search—agreed with the diagnosis.

They pushed doxycycline into the kid, and Mack stayed with Mrs. McDowell until her husband sprinted into the emergency department still in his septic tank cleaning jumpsuit. While the staff was all for supporting small businesses, the smell was overwhelming, and Dr. Ling forced him to change into a set of scrubs.

Mack frowned when she pulled into the clinic’s parking lot and found it empty.

They hadn’t had any appointments after three today, but there was always work to do. She parked and walked up to the back door. While digging for her keys, the paper taped to the window caught her eye. It was a terrible sketch of a fake prescription.

Patient Name: Mackenzie O’Neil



Take one early Friday closing and meet the team at Remo’s for celebratory drinks.

Refills: As many as needed.





She laughed and peeled the paper off the glass.

Shaking her head, she folded it neatly and stowed it in her bag. It was a good day. But that didn’t mean she should kick off early. There was work and…

Why the hell not? It was a beautiful fall Friday afternoon, and she’d made a great save.

She’d earned a little fun, dammit.

She pulled out her phone and dialed before she could remind herself that she wasn’t going to see him tonight. Just because she was inviting him out didn’t mean she had to spend the night with him. Inconsistency was the key to a good fling. It kept the expectations low.

“Dreamy.” Linc’s voice was like honey.

“Doing anything important, Hotshot?” she asked.

“Nothing that can’t be finished later.”

“Feel like meeting me for a celebratory drink at Remo’s?”

“Absolutely. Give me ten. What are we celebrating?”

She bit her lip, then grinned. “Friday.”

He chuckled softly. “I’ll meet you there.”

She felt a warm rush of something good flood through her. “Can’t wait.”





Dunnigan and Associates had commandeered half of Remo’s otherwise empty bar. It was still early. But her crew made up for the lack of numbers with noise level. When Mack walked in the door, they cheered.

“Come get your on-the-house round, Dr. Mack,” Sophie called from behind the bar.

“What is all this?” Mack asked, gimping up to the bar and sliding onto the stool they’d saved for her. She pointed to a new IPA on draft.

“You saved a life today,” Tuesday said, clapping her hands. She had a tall, skinny glass of what Mack assumed was some sort of low-carb alcohol in front of her.

“You’re a hero!” Freida said, hefting up her frozen margarita.

“To Dr. O’Neil, lifesaver,” Russell said, holding up his red wine.

Sophie slid Mack’s beer to her. Reluctantly, she raised it. “To Friday afternoons.”

“Cheers!”

“We looked it up after you left,” Tuesday bubbled.

“I’d never even heard of it,” Freida added.

“People die from this. Especially when they don’t present with the rash. How did you know?” Tuesday squeaked.

“I remembered it from a medical journal article. Cases are on the rise. Global warming. More ticks. Sometimes there’s no rash.”

Freida thumped her on the back. “This was almost better than firefighter physical day.”

Tuesday gasped. “OMG. I just realized. You’re like that grumpy, mean doctor on that old show. He walked with a limp, too!”

Mack guessed it was at least her second low-carb alcoholic beverage. “Unlike House, I’m not addicted to Vicodin. Just to make that clear.”

Tuesday thought that was hilarious and nearly fell off her stool.

“Congratulations, doc,” Sophie said, sliding her a food menu. “Better get some bar food in Tuesday before she goes for round three.”

They ordered quesadillas and French fries. Because why not?

While Tuesday and Freida hurried off to attack the jukebox, Russell slid over to the stool next to her.

“I would have missed it,” he admitted. “If that boy had walked into my exam room instead of yours, he might not have made it through the weekend.”

Mack pushed the thought aside. “It’s not a big deal,” she said. They were doctors. It was what they were trained for.

“It’s the biggest deal for that family. Remember that,” he said.

She nodded. “I remembered to check the patient notes. They’re big into camping. Camping equals bug bites.”