Protecting What's Mine(7)

“They’re not all bad when you get to work on Chief Sexy Pants.” The other nurse, willowy and weary, flopped down on the bench. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a sleek tail. “Hear what he did on-scene?”

“I got the broad strokes from Javier. Something about climbing into a car on fire like a sexy superhero?”

“He used that beautiful body of his to block the driver from the flames while sawing through the guy’s seatbelt. Dislocates his shoulder, burns his hand, but stays put. Had some Good Sams pull the man through the sunroof. Then his own rookie is hauling his fine ass up, and he stops to grab the flowers the guy got for his wife’s birthday off the front seat.”

“Swoon,” the first nurse sighed.

“Yeah, swoon and a subluxed shoulder and third-degree burns on the hand that I hear is capable of delivering multiple orgasms within impossible windows of time.”

“This guy tall, blond, gorgeous? A little on the flirty side?” Mack asked.

The first nurse looked up as she dragged on an ancient pair of gym shorts. “Yeah. Lincoln Reed. Fire chief over in Benevolence. He was first on-scene. You meet him?” she asked, eyeing the flight suit Mack was shoving into her bag.

“Briefly.”

“He’s downstairs in the ED. You know, if you want to check him out with two working arms,” the second nurse said with a glint in her eye.

Mack chewed it over. “I might just do that.”

“I’m Nellie, by the way.”

“Mack. Dr. O’Neil,” she said.

“The new flight doc. Nice to meet you. Great work today. Your girl is in surgery. No spine injury. I’m Sharon.”

“Oh…thanks for that.” She said her goodbyes and headed out into the hallway.

She wasn’t used to knowing that. The after. Whether they made it or didn’t. Her job as a retrievalist was to get the patient to the best resources. End of story. She’d gotten used to the not knowing. Gotten comfortable with it.

Sometimes it was better not to know.

Faces flashed before her. The ones she’d lost.

Two orderlies wandered by cracking jokes. Mack pulled herself out of her head. Nothing good came from looking back.

Going on instinct, she veered away from the parking lot and headed instead into the emergency department. It was relatively quiet here. Most of the other crash victims would have been routed through the county hospital. It was smaller but closer. The fact that Linc was here told her he hadn’t wanted to add another case to the overtaxed emergency department. A point for him.

She didn’t have to look hard for her flirty firefighter. There was a clump of adoring female medical personnel clustered around a trauma bay.

Chief Sexy Pants, with his broad shoulders and easy grin, took up most of the space between the vinyl curtains. The back of his left hand was bandaged, his right arm was in a sling that she could tell he was itching to get out of. He was hooked to a bag of fluids, most likely for the dehydration that came from battling blazes.

Mack thought of the flowers, wondered if it was true. If it was, it was wildly romantic and irresponsible.

Dr. Ling, according to the fiercely frowning woman’s ID badge, glanced up from the laptop. “Unless you’re family, you’re going to need to stay in the waiting room,” she said without looking up.

“Doc Dreamy here is family. She’s my future wife,” Linc said.

Mack laughed and pretended not to notice the daggers the nursing staff shot in her direction. Holding up her hospital ID, she noted the disappointment that flashed across Dr. Ling’s face. Mack had known doctors like Ling. Territorial, a shade aggressive. But usually very, very good at medicine. “We’re old friends,” Mack said. “Nice to see you again, Lefty. How’s the wing?”

“Good as new thanks to the doc here.”

“That’s not even remotely accurate,” Dr. Ling announced dryly, then reluctantly, for Mack’s behalf, added, “Partial subluxation. It’s back in place and needs to stay stabilized. The chief is under strict orders not to over-stress the injury.”

“How’s our patient?” Linc asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and pointing at the IV in his arm. With a nod from Dr. Ling, one of the nurses jumped into action to remove it. Mack was a little disappointed when the woman didn’t kiss the Band-Aid she gently smoothed over the tiny needle hole.

“Not sure,” Mack said, shoving a hand in the pocket of her shorts. “Made it here in one piece. She’s in surgery. No spinal. But that’s all I know.”

“I can find out for you, chief,” one of the younger nurses said, American as apple pie with blonde curls and pretty blue eyes with lashes that were batting a mile a minute.

“I’d appreciate that, Lurlene.”

Oh, she would recognize that hotshot charm anywhere, Mack thought, as Lurlene sprinted for the desk. And not so long ago she’d have had no issues with enjoying a couple of rounds in bed with said hotshot charm. But she was turning over a new leaf.

A new, celibate, boring leaf.

Too bad there was something in those eyes that she liked, that she recognized. The slick, harmless charm. The exhaustion he was keeping tamped down.

He stood, and even the indomitable Dr. Ling took a step back to accommodate him.

Taller than she’d thought. A little broader too. But not soft. Except around the eyes.