His eyes locked onto her. “Thanks for saving him.”
She stilled for a moment. Not sure what to do with the gratitude, she shrugged. “Don’t thank me yet. He’s still critical.”
Not that the old monitors and outdated gear around them were a huge help. “That defibrillator is ancient. Do you even have a LUCAS or something for mechanical compressions for CPR? I maybe should’ve checked the expiration date on the meds.”
A muscle in Fireman’s jaw ticked. “This is a backup vehicle. Usually an ambulance would come from the hospital, but they were already on other calls. We’re trying to raise funds for our own Crisis Response Team rig now that you’re here. But it’s a small town.”
“Tell me about it.” She blew out a short breath. “Well, let’s hope we get those funds sooner than later. This is borderline ridiculous. If they want us to save lives, we need the tools to do that.”
She checked Mr. Hagborg again. Steady heart rate. Oxygen improved but still not what it should be.
“I suppose you’re used to state-of-the-art equipment.” His hazel-green eyes cut back to her. His words sounded more like a judgment than an observation.
What was his deal? “I know how to make do. I’ve worked in war zones and in the middle of the wilderness. I’m up for whatever it takes to save this man’s life, but it would be a lot easier with gear from this decade and people who are trained to use it. Have those two guys back there ever boarded somebody?”
“Usually we have more seasoned EMTs on site. But with the holiday weekend and one guy having a baby, Charlie and Dean were the only first responders available.”
“Seriously? That’s the best they could do? No wonder Cole said you needed help.” She readjusted her gloves. “Do you need me to take over the bag?”
“I’ve got it.”
Despite his tight lips and scowl, he’d been helpful, so she’d let him continue.
Cole called to the back, “We’re almost there. They have the ER standing by.”
Good, because she had done all she could for Mr. Hagborg and he was still on the verge of tanking—and Ronnie couldn’t bear to lose him or any patient in her care.
With Cole and Fireman, they exited the ambulance and wheeled the cot into the ER in far less time than it took to load him. Amazing how working with competent people made this so much smoother. They released the patient to the hospital’s staff, and Ronnie leaned against the wall of the waiting area to draw her first full breath since the alarm sounded. See? Despite the ancient equipment, the long drive, and all the other obstacles in the way, she could totally do this backwoods paramedic thing.
She should hit the head while they waited for one of the staff to bring their backboard. But that would require moving. And now that she’d stopped—
A split second of panic jolted her. She pushed off the wall. Tiago!
She’d forgotten her brother. Here it was, three in the morning, and she was over a hundred miles away from him.
“You, okay?” Cole asked. He handed her a water bottle as she paced the hall and patted down her pockets to find her phone.
“My brother. I need to check on him. Can I have Megan’s number? I didn’t even ask—I mean, I didn’t know—”
“Ronnie. Don’t worry. He’s fine. She texted me earlier that she has someone staying with Josh so she could watch Tiago. But I’ll call her. She’ll be expecting me to check in anyway. I’ll meet you back at the ambulance, but take a deep breath. He’s okay.”
Fireman said nothing as Cole walked out—at least not with his mouth. But his eyes said it for him.
How could you forget your own brother?
Ronnie’s cheeks burned. Some guardian she made.
Like Cole said, Tiago was fine. Thank goodness Megan was close by and willing to help.
Okay, so maybe this new job wasn’t a breeze. But she had to make it work. She would make it work. Because really, what other choice did she have?
She’d start by bringing their EMS into this century.
She didn’t anticipate having to ride in an ambulance two and half hours one way just to reach Level III trauma care. Apparently, the Deep Haven ER was only equipped for minor emergencies. That meant major calls would be a long time for Tiago to be alone.
She just had to find someone, maybe even Megan, to keep an eye on him when she was gone. It had to be better than Abuela’s house where he was exposed to her delinquent cousins and their druggie friends or wandering the city alone with the kids in their neighborhood looking for trouble. She wanted a better life for him than what she’d grown up with.
One of the nurses brought the board and another bag to them. “Sorry for the wait. I grabbed a new collar for you. Oh, and some more things to restock your ambulance.”
Ronnie took the collar and bag from her. “Finally, something up-to-date for our rig.”
But the nurse only had eyes for Fireman, her gaze running over him. She called out, “Deer are out tonight. Be careful driving back, Peter.” She sent a flirty wave to the guy, who just nodded and marched away with the backboard in hand.
Ugh. Why did women do that, throw themselves at men just because they were good-looking? She headed outside, Fireman beside her.
Under her breath she mocked the nurse with a falsetto voice. “Be careful driving back.” She chuckled to herself. “You mean when we go back to the Podunk town in the middle of Nowheresville where people don’t know a hair dryer from a defibrillator?”
She glanced at the fireman. Surely he’d appreciate a little humor after all the stress.
He stopped and glared at her.
Or maybe not.
“We may be a small town, but we have each other’s back. We don’t have all the latest and greatest gadgets, but we’re all about family and community. If you don’t like that kind of thing, you’re welcome to go back to where you came from. We were fine before you came.”
He stowed the backboard in the ambulance, got into the passenger side of the vehicle, and slammed the door.
What was that all about?
Go back to where you came from.
No. She couldn’t go back there. She needed a safe place far away from there. And, hello. She’d just saved that guy’s life. No way those other responders could’ve done that. If she’d been back in Iraq, the guys would’ve given her a pat on the back, not a door in the face.
What was with this place?
Ronnie crawled into the back of the truck and plopped on the bench. She fought the fatigue and emotion pushing against her eyelids and sore muscles. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. After the long day packing and driving, Ronnie had no more fight left. The imminent adrenaline crash washed over her. A few tears escaped.
Wait. She smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand.
Peter. That’s what the nurse had called him.
Wasn’t that the name of the fire chief that Cole had warned her about?
The one everybody loved?
Wonderful.
She may have saved Gust Hagborg’s life, but she’d apparently insulted her brand-spanking new partner.
Her time in Deep Haven was off to a stellar start.
Ronnie curled onto her side and fell asleep somewhere on the road to Deep Haven—a place that didn’t want her.
What else was new?
Chapter 3
One down, one more Memorial weekend family function to go. The Dahlquist Rib Cook-off. Peter clutched his package of Oreos and walked up to the Cook County High School football field, his game face on. The smell of smoky sweet pork in the air stoked his ravenous appetite. A shrill whistle and a rumble of male voices indicated the game had already started.
Exercise and food. After the stressful midnight call, arriving home close to dawn, and sleeping most of the day, that’s all he wanted. No, needed.
His stomach growled.
Thankfully, he was in the right place. Every one of his dad’s siblings and cousins competed tonight for the title of Rib Maste
r on his old high school football field, thanks to Uncle Gordy, generous donor to Deep Haven athletics and member of the school board.
They would feast as they filled out score sheets with each delicious rib entry. And Mom always made sure he went home with a week’s worth of leftovers.
He could count on it, sure as he could count on a fierce game of football between the older and younger generations, Grandma Doris’s apple pie for dessert, and each restaurant-owning family trying to corner him and persuade him to vote the Dahlquist way. But the food would be worth it.
Hopefully.
With a wave for his mom, Peter bypassed the women congregated near the concession stand where they set up for the meal. He searched for his cousin Nick on the field.
Wait a minute. Why was Dad facing Uncle Gordy on the forty-five-yard line? The brothers should be on the same team, the forty-and-older team, not opposing ones.
“Peter’s here! Time out.” Nick broke the line and ran over. As his closest cousin and friend, Nick always felt more like a brother. They were in the same grade growing up, played football together, and even shared a dorm room at the University of Minnesota in Duluth for a couple years. And with a similar height and dark brown hair, they were often mistaken for siblings, even though they weren’t blood-related and Nick had a leaner frame. Made him a great wide receiver.
“Bro, where have you been? We need you to block for our running game. We’re down two touchdowns.” Nick grabbed the Oreos out of his hand, threw them to the sidelines. “I don’t know why you bother with those when Grandma made bars. Now, come on. Your dad’s waiting.”
Bars? What happened to apple pie? Peter looked at the variety of ages in the huddle, from his younger brother Johnny to Great Uncle Joe to ten-year-old Grayson—second cousin once removed. “What happened to the Old Fogies versus Young Bucks game?”
“Get with the times, Peter. Uncle Gordy and I picked teams. Wanted to mix things up a bit.” Dad slapped him on the back then got down to business and called the play.
But Peter couldn’t pay much attention to it. What was going on? The Dahlquists didn’t “mix things up.” And yet, the huddle broke, and Peter took the line next to eighty-year-old Great Uncle Joe on one side and Nick on the other, at defensive end.
A sliver of hope took root. If they were willing to switch up the game, maybe they would lay off on the vote talk too and let him decide in peace.
Maybe.
Abandoning his worries, Peter threw his all into the game and forgot about the vote—and everything else weighing on him—for one glorious hour. The only thing that mattered was stopping the opposing team, then turning it around and moving his team down the field to victory.
Which he did.
After congratulations and high fives for running the ball to the winning touchdown, Dad called for Peter to join him as he checked on his smoker. “Nice game, son. You really helped us turn the tide.”
He should feel a rush of pride. Instead tension in Peter’s shoulders flared. Another attempt to bring up the vote? It was only a matter of time.
Dad slipped his Kiss the Cook apron over his athletic shirt. Like all the Dahlquist men, he was tall and lanky. They may be skinny, but they sure knew how to cook and how to pack it away. He opened the smoker and checked the meat temperature.
The mesquite aroma escaped and filled the air. Dad moved the ribs from the smoker to the grill and brushed them with his secret sauce. “I’ve missed the win the last three years, but mark my words, I will be wearing that crown by the end of the day.”
His father always seemed to ooze confidence, always knew what to say or do. If only he could’ve passed that gift on to his adopted son.
Still, the dreaded subject didn’t come up.
For now.
They joined the rest of the adults sitting in camping chairs circled around the coolers at the edge of the field. Peter popped open a Mountain Dew, taking a long swig as he studied the new Huskies scoreboard towering over them. This town sure loved their sports. And their festivals. There were so many good things about Deep Haven, even if certain people couldn’t see it.
“Heard about the fire last night at Hagborg’s, Peter. What happened?” Aunt Alice asked. She sat on a folding chair and knitted away on her latest Christmas sweater. Everyone in the family had one.
“Space heater in the garage. A piece of insulation fell on it and poof.” He didn’t mention the clutter.
“Well, that place was a fire waiting to happen with all the hoards of junk Gustav kept. The poor man. He hasn’t been the same since his grandson Monte died,” Grandma said from her place by the dessert table.
“No, but can you blame the guy, Mom? All alone in that house. What a sad existence.” Aunt Connie shook her head as she stirred her homemade barbecue sauce on a camping burner.
Peter took another swig and tried not to think about his own lonely cottage. “The house is a total loss, but we were lucky enough to get to Gust in time.”
“It wasn’t luck.” Uncle Gordy joined the group, tugging down his Vikings hat to cover up his bald spot. “It was pure grit. Heard you were the one to pull him out of there, Pete. Had to escape through the window right before the roof caught fire and collapsed.”
“Peter, is that true? Are you okay?” Mom looked worried again, like she always did when a fire rescue came up.
“I’m fine. Better off than Gust anyway. But the doctors are hoping he’ll make a full recovery.”
“Talked with Dean Wilson. He said they should’ve hired Kirby Hueston since that new paramedic that helped on the scene is worse than a wounded grizzly bear. Dean’s ready to quit. You meet her?” Gordy asked.
Every muscle went taut at the mention of his new Crisis Team partner.
And here he thought the vote would be the worst thing someone could bring up. He’d managed thus far to put the ornery woman from last night and this morning out of mind.
Until now.
“Yep. Met her.” Peter kept his gaze on the can in his hand, trying to keep his voice even and look as nonchalant as possible even as he crushed the empty beverage container into a solid block of aluminum.
“So, what’s she like? It’s not every day someone new moves to Deep Haven,” Nick said from where he fished through one of the drink coolers.
“Her? She?” Mom straightened in her chair. Her eyes lit. “It’s a woman?”
Great. Now Mom would never let the subject drop. All the other side conversations came to a halt.
Throw them a bone and run. That would work, right? “Uh, yes. A woman. Veronica, but she goes by Ronnie. She seems to know her stuff. Probably saved old man Hagborg’s life. She’s got a younger brother with her, and that’s all I know.” He turned to his dad. “We should go check those ribs.”
“Nah, we still have time.” Dad settled back in his chair and took a sip of his beer. The smirk said he knew exactly what he was doing too. “Tell us more about this Ronnie.”
Peter stood. “I’m going to go check on the kids.”
“I’ll come with you.” Nick matched his pace as Peter bolted away from the group. The snickers behind them grew to full-out belly laughs by the time they were halfway across the field.
Yeah, he wasn’t kidding anyone. The woman affected him. Like a virus.
He owed her an apology. A huge one. He still couldn’t believe the words that had come out of his own mouth. Go back to where you came from. He’d never talked like that to anyone in his life. He was supposed to keep the peace, not start a fight. But she kept griping about the town, and the way she pushed aside Gretchen and barked at the crew, it ate at him. And, yeah, maybe he felt a little for Kirby.
“So, tell me the truth, what’s this Ronnie like? She cute?” Nick asked with a grin.
Peter snorted. “Kinda hard to tell as she ordered everyone around, insulted our entire EMS, and growled at anyone who came close. The woman is infuriating.”
Nick froze. “Wow. That’s gotta be the most unflattering thing
I’ve ever heard you say about…anyone. What happened, Mr. Diplomacy? You always find a positive spin on people.”
“I said she saved Gust’s life. That’s positive.”
“She really got under your skin, huh?” Nick’s grin grew.
“Shut up.” Peter turned and started walking again toward the kids.
“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” Nick’s voice filled with mirth.
Pretty? He supposed. But snippy brunettes with sharp amber eyes weren’t really his type. How did anyone see past the fangs in her words?
At the hospital, he’d been on the verge of marching up to Cole to demand that he find another paramedic. Okay, he probably wouldn’t have demanded, but he would have strongly encouraged it. Only then she’d surprised him.
She had been freaking out about her brother, worried about him. Asking Cole to use his phone to check on him.
That tiny glimpse of a beating heart beneath the razor-sharp armor was the only thing stopping him.
That and the gentle way she’d treated Gust, whispering for him to keep fighting for his life.
So he was a sucker for second chances. Maybe she’d had a bad day and the stress of moving was getting to her.
Still, his mother would be ashamed of how he’d spoken to her.
How he was supposed to work with her, he hadn’t a clue. But she was the last thing he wanted to think about right now. He turned to his cousin. “You know who’s back in town and pretty enough to turn your head?”
“Who?”
Peter walked away. “Never mind. You won’t care—”
“Come on, Pete. Don’t hold out on me now.” Nick pulled him to a stop. “Who is it?”
“Vivien Calhoun.”
Nick swallowed. Yep, that’s right, buddy. Vivie, Nick’s high school crush.
It paid to know everyone in town.
“Oh, really?” Nick said. He looked away. “What…what’s she doing in Deep Haven? Just visiting, right?” He made a show of picking at a callous on his hands, but the gulp of his Adam’s apple spoke volumes.
Crazy for You Page 4