by Score, Lucy
She picked up pieces of the story while assessing injuries. Fighting with drunk boyfriend. Boyfriend grabbed the wheel and put them head-on into the tree. No airbags.
Another avoidable disaster. That pissed her off.
“Let’s get her on the board, guys. We gotta get her out of here. On three,” Mack ordered.
“I’m tellin’ ya. Leave ’er alone!” Skinny screeched.
“I’m gonna need you to calm down, son,” the sheriff insisted.
Mack slipped around to the patient’s other side, putting her back to the guardrail.
“One. Two. Three.” In unison, they team-lifted the girl and slid her carefully onto the board.
“Strap her in tight. We’ve got to get her over that fence,” she instructed.
With their patient snuggly braced and strapped, they lifted her. A chorus of cohesive strangers bound together by purpose.
“Incoming!” One of the EMTs at the head of the board shouted a warning.
Skinny had broken away from Ty and raged at them, shouting nonsense as he charged. She wanted to get in his way. To tell him he was the reason his girlfriend was strapped down and unconscious. But her skills were required here. She didn’t have the luxury of acting on that snap of temper.
And then that skinny dumbass made another big mistake.
Pointy elbows flying, he shoved his way between Mack and the EMT in front of her. “Katelyn, baby! Tell ’em it’s not my fault! Tell ’em you were driving!”
“Get the fuck away from my patient,” Mack snapped, baring her teeth.
She saw it coming. His pointy fucking fist hurled with more enthusiasm than finesse. But she was holding the litter. The asshole caught her in the cheek, and it sang.
“Goddammit. Get your guy under control!” Bubba hollered from the other side of the board.
Ty, holding his jaw, was jogging toward them, hand on his weapon. But Linc was going to beat him there, and that man had murder in those beautiful baby blues.
Mack body checked Skinny with her shoulder and hip. “Move!”
Completely in-fucking-sane, the kid grabbed her by the collar, causing the litter to lurch. It only served to enrage her. “Get her to the bird,” Mack yelled and let go of the board. She turned around, dodged another poorly thrown punch, and shoved the guy back a step.
“Back the fuck off! You’re the only thing keeping me from treating your girlfriend right now!”
But he kept coming.
Great. She was going to have to punch the motherfucker. That was going to be a hell of a lot of paperwork on everyone’s part.
“Calm the hell down, kid,” Ty said. He was close enough now that Mack could see the beginnings of a bruise blooming on his jaw. A sucker punch.
“Fuck off!”
Linc was coming full steam like a freight train. But he was too late. The guy grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her hard. She would have been fine had it not been for the med bag behind her.
Her feet caught it, and she fell back, catching the guardrail on the back of her thighs. And then she was tumbling over it.
“Mack!” She heard Linc calling for her.
She remembered to tuck, and that was the best she managed as her body hurled itself backward down the embankment.
Creek. Creek. Creek.
She skidded to a halt, fingers digging into the vegetation, stopping eight inches from the water. That would have been hard to live down.
She lay there for a full second, and her line of sight gave her the perfect angle to see Linc’s angry fist connect with the idiot’s jaw.
The kid went down and didn’t get back up.
“You all right, doc?” Linc jogged down the short embankment. He ran his hands over her legs and arms.
“Fine,” she muttered, brushing dirt and leaves off her flight suit. “I’m fine. I gotta get in the air.”
“Dreamy, that was a hell of a fall. You sure you didn’t hit your head?”
“Tuck and roll, Hotshot. How’s the dumbass?”
“Much quieter now.”
He helped her to her feet and didn’t miss it when she winced.
The lightning strike of pain in her ankle caught her by surprise. The fact that it was her bad ankle only pissed her off more. “Fuck,” she hissed.
“Leg? Ankle?” He slipped an arm around her waist.
“It’s fine. Just a tweak. If you pick me up right now, I swear to God I will murder you.”
“Got it. Stoic support only,” he said, taking her waist.
“Need a hand?” someone called out.
A paramedic, another firefighter, and the sheriff himself helped haul them both back up to the road. Skinny was cuffed and slumped against the wheel of the police cruiser. Mack could make out the team loading the patient aboard.
“I gotta go,” she insisted. But she gave Linc’s arm a hard squeeze.
“You better call me, Dreamy!”
She threw a wave of acknowledgement over her shoulder and jog-limped toward the waiting bird.
She didn’t realize it until she was climbing aboard in considerable pain. Skinny was missing a front tooth now, too.
She slammed the headset over her ears. “Let’s rock and roll, RS.”
With her focus on the patient, she didn’t notice Linc watching the chopper until it disappeared.
* * *
Linc: Status update?
Linc: Hotshot paging Dr. Dreamy.
Linc: At least tell me if you made it back to the hospital or if you crash landed in a pasture full of goats.
Mack: Made it back. TBI for the patient.
Linc: Fuck.
Mack: My sentiments.
Linc: How are you? You were limping pretty good.
Mack: Fine.
Linc: Stop talking my ear off, doc.
Mack: It’s nothing serious. Just getting checked out in the ED.
Linc: Text me when you get home.
Mack: I won’t be up for company.
Linc: Understood. Just want to make sure you’re home safe.
Mack: Home now.
Linc: Sweet dreams, Dreamy. Text if you need anything.
20
Linc rapped lightly on the bright blue cottage door. Sunshine’s tail swished expectantly against his leg. It was early. Before seven a.m. But he knew she was up.
He heard a slow clump clump clump approaching from the other side of the door and flashed the peephole his most charming grin.
The door didn’t open.
“Open up, Dreamy. I know you’re in there.”
There was another beat of silence. Sunshine, tired of waiting for adoration, jumped and planted her paws against the sidelight window to announce her presence.
Linc considered it a point in Mack’s favor when she opened the door for his dog.
There was a frown on her pretty face and a walking boot on her left foot.
“Nothing serious, huh?” he asked.
Sunshine happily trotted inside and disappeared.
“What do you want?” Mack asked grumpily.
She had a good bruise on her cheek from that skinny asshole’s fist that made Linc wish he’d done a hell of a lot more than knock a tooth out. A bandage peeked out from under the sleeve of her sweatshirt. He imagined her clothing hid a multitude of bruises and scrapes.
“I came to join the party,” he said, brushing past her.
“What party?”
“Your pity party.”
He hefted the grocery tote.
“I’m not having a pity party,” she insisted.
The whole place screamed cute little grandma. The couch that Sunshine had already made herself at home on was a faded buttercup yellow with embroidered throw pillows. The built-ins in the living room were crammed with paperbacks and ceramic knickknacks. The TV was entirely too small for the space, and the stand that held it was stenciled with violets.
He’d bet money there was a cookie jar in the kitchen and lace doilies on at least one piece of furniture ups
tairs. Nothing in the room reflected the sexy, heroic doctor who had taken up residence.
“What’s the verdict, doc?” he asked, crossing the living room and stepping into the minuscule kitchen. He plopped his bag of goodies on the counter.
He heard the uneven clumping follow him into the room.
“Linc,” she sighed out his name in a way that brought bedroom fantasies to mind. “What are you doing in my house?”
He nudged her down in one of the two chairs at the table barely big enough to hold one dinner plate. “I’m bein’ neighborly. It’s a small-town, nice-person thing.” When she didn’t spring back up out of the chair, he knew she was tired. “Heard you’re out of commission.”
Glumly, she rested her chin on her hand. “Avulsion fracture. Ankle. I’m officially grounded. I can’t fly with the boot.”
Hurt, frustrated, and bored. He got it.
He pulled the box of green tea out of the bag and filled the electric kettle with water.
“That sucks,” he said succinctly and plugged in the kettle.
“What sucks is that girl’s traumatic brain injury,” she said, bubbling over with frustration. “No one has good taste in men at that age, and yet she’s paying the price. They don’t know if she’ll ever wake up, let alone resume a normal life. And now I know that they don’t know because everyone in this damn town knows every damn thing.”
She pushed out of the chair to limp and pace in the confined space.
“And it’s all because some stupid son of a bitch made some really bad fucking choices,” she said.
Because he got it, because he knew, Linc hooked his fingers in the neck of her hoodie and reeled her in. She remained rigid until his arms wrapped around her. It was like she’d given herself permission to melt for just a moment.
“I’m sorry the price of his dumbass decisions were hers and yours to pay,” he said. “And I’m really fucking pissed that I didn’t do more.”
“You knocked a tooth out of his mouth,” she reminded him.
“Not enough for putting hands on my favorite trauma doc.”
She sighed against him. Her face fitting just right between his neck and chest. “You’re a really good hugger.”
“One of my many skills. You should see me—”
“If you say anything about that very impressive cock and ruin this moment, I’ll add you to my pissed-off-at list.”
The kettle beeped an alert.
“I was going to say, you should see me make a cup of tea.” He gave her another squeeze and indulged himself by dropping a kiss on top of her dark hair.
“This doesn’t mean we’re going to have sex.”
He guided her back to her chair. “Let’s take a wait-and-see attitude on that particular point for now.”
Mack’s green eyes twinkled. “You don’t find my podiatric apparatus an incredible turn-on?”
“Dreamy, everything about you is an incredible turn-on. Even your misplaced willpower.” He turned back to the counter. Mostly to focus on making her tea. But partly because seeing her like this, vulnerable, sad, made him want to swoop in superhero-style and fix every damn thing for her.
He was already overstepping.
“One last item on the pity party agenda,” she said. “I hate that I’m feeling sorry for myself when I know I’ll be back to normal in no time. That girl won’t, and I should be grateful.”
Hell. Was there nothing about this woman he didn’t like?
“Acknowledge,” he said, setting the mug in front of her.
She snorted. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means I’ve got nothing to add, but I hear you.”
She swirled the tea bag around and studied him in silence.
Sunshine, sensing the potential for human attention, trotted into the room.
She stopped, then sat expectantly in front of Mack.
“Hi,” Mack said to the dog.
Sunshine took it as an invitation and put her front paws on Mack’s knees.
“Here,” he said, producing a baggie of doggie treats.
“What are those?” she asked.
“They’re t-r-e-a-t-s.”
Sunshine trembled in delirium.
“Can she spell?”
“Apparently,” he assessed.
“Is she having a seizure?”
“No. She just really likes t-r-e-a-t-s. You might as well give her one and earn her undying love and affection. One now. You can save the rest for later.”
“Why do I need treats for your dog later?” she asked in suspicion.
She was getting her feet back under her, latching on to the distraction and setting the self-pity aside. Just as he’d diabolically planned.
“Because I’m leaving her to babysit you,” he informed her cheerfully. To add her two cents, Sunshine gave an excited yip.
“This is payback for your nieces and nephews, isn’t it?”
He held up his palms, the picture of innocence. “You’re actually doing me a huge favor. It’s wax-the-apparatus day, and she gets in the way trying to bite all the rags.”
“You’re making that up.”
He was indeed.
“I’m truly heartbroken that you would think that. Devastated, Dreamy.”
Her lips quirked, then flattened again. “Linc. I can’t watch your dog. I don’t know how to watch a dog.” As she said it, she stroked gentle hands over Sunshine’s ears.
“It’s easy,” he promised, slipping the salad mix and chicken breasts into the fridge. “She’ll tell you what she wants, when she wants it.”
“I don’t speak dog.”
Sunshine nosed the bag of treats, reminding Mackenzie they were there. Dutifully, she took a treat from the bag and gingerly held it out to the dog. Quivering, Sunshine deftly took the treat. With her treasure secure, she ran into the living room, hurled herself onto the couch, circled three times, and flopped down with a happy sigh.
Mack laughed despite herself.
“You’ll learn,” he said.
“Is that cookie dough?” she asked, watching him stash a package in the fridge.
“Oatmeal raisin and chocolate chip. I wasn’t sure what kind of a cookie girl you are, and I’m partial to oatmeal raisin. Figured you could make us dessert since I’m making dinner tonight.”
“That’s awfully presumptuous,” she observed.
“It’s the least I can do since you’re watching my girl today.”
Groceries stashed, he pulled out the other chair at her doll-sized table and sat.
He reached a hand out to cup her chin, angling her face to see the bruising better.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t faster,” he said.
“It’s not your job to protect me,” she reminded him.
“I think if we tag team the responsibility, we’ll do better.” He caged her knees between his hands.
She sighed. “I can’t with the full-court press today, Hotshot.”
“Because you’re feeling frustrated and vulnerable and pissed off that some dumb fuck made shitty choices that are rippling out into consequences that never should have happened. That girl should be heading into work today, not breathing through a tube. You shouldn’t be laid up in a boot, suddenly available for dog-watching. His mother will lose her son to prison because he couldn’t be responsible for himself. And it was all preventable.”
The tension sagged out of her shoulders.
“How do you get over it?” she asked.
“I don’t. But I also don’t forget the good.” He reached into his back pocket and produced a card. “This is why we do what we do.”
She took it, opened it. “A wedding invite?” Her face softened as she read the note inside. “You’re walking the bride down the aisle?”
He took the invite, tucked it back in his pocket. His own treasure, he supposed. “She was my first save. I was a rookie, fresh out of college. House fire on Christmas Eve. She was ten years old and trapped on the second floor with a big-ass family
cat that she saved.”
He picked up Mack’s mug and sampled the tea. Wincing, he slid it back to her. “Her parents and her brother were out. Her mom begged us to find her. We weren’t sure if we would in time. It was a big house. Her brother told us to look in the upstairs TV room.”
He still remembered it. Seeing that face peep out from the corner, skinny arms wrapped around a pissed-off cat. He wasn’t sure who was protecting who.
“She made me take the cat to the window first,” Linc remembered. “She wouldn’t come near me until he was safe.”
He remembered it. The weight of the yowling tomcat in his arms as he handed him out the window to the can man who was on the ladder.
The house was fully engulfed inside, yet the Christmas lights lining the gutters remained lit. Hotter than hell despite the frigid December temperatures outside.
“Okay, let’s go,” she’d said to him, coughing but smiling at him when he returned to her on the floor.
“I stayed in touch with her, with the family, over the years. You don’t forget your first,” he said with a shrug. “Her dad died a few years back.”
“And she asked you to walk her down the aisle,” Mack said.
“Yeah. I could use a wedding date.”
“Damn it, Linc!”
He grinned.
“You’re the literal worst.”
“We could be town sweethearts,” he mused.
“As appealing as that sounds, you know I’m not looking for romance or any more small-town attention.”
“About that. You’re going to have visitors today.”
“You mean besides the four-legged variety?”
“The casserole-bearing kind. The ‘just checking in’ kind.”
She looked horrified at the idea. “Why?”
“Because you put yourself between a patient and a criminal and got roughed up for your trouble. Because you’re a hero, doc.”