Once Brendan and I are secluded in this villa, AKA servants’ quarters, we look at each other with wide eyes. “Is this a joke?”
“It must be,” he says. “I mean this overall place is amazing, but this little hut—is not.”
Seconds pass by, and I’m quickly overcome with feelings of paranoia and claustrophobia. “Oh my God, we have no mode of transportation. How long was the drive to this place … like … from civilization?”
“Oh, honey, you didn’t see the quaint little town, or maybe more like a village we drove through? It was like all 1950’s with not a shred of grass longer than another. I’m pretty sure we’ve entered your type of hell.”
“I thought you checked this town out?” I snap at him.
“I did. It was super cute, but now I see it’s even cuter than I thought.”
“I can’t live here. I won’t be able to survive like this,” I tell him.
“We’re kind of stuck now,” he reminds me.
“Thanks, brainiac.” In all seriousness, I need to find an exit strategy just in case things go even more south, quicker than I could have predicted. “Do you by chance know how we get to town?”
“I saw someone riding a horse … ” Brendan says.
“Yeah, uh … no.”
“Okay, Boston doesn’t exist down here. Let go of your dirty water and smog-filled expectations, and embrace nature and purity, or whatever it’s called. We can do this Scarlett. We’re brave. We’re warriors. We’re—”
“Shut up. We’re not going to survive down here.”
“How about we just go for a walk and explore for a bit. Maybe it will make us feel better?”
“Whatever. I need food anyway,” I tell him.
“Well, why don’t you change so we can go—” he says, looking me up and down as if I’m wearing something atrocious.
“Why do I have to change?” He better not be thinking I should be dressed more like the people down here. That is not happening.
“We’re going for a walk and you have four-inch heels on. I know how you feel about skinny jeans and running shoes, so … yeah.”
“I’m fine. I walk in these shoes all the time,” I argue.
“You’re going to break your neck,” he says, “but I’m not arguing with your hangry ass anymore, so let’s go.”
I roll my eyes and grab my bag. “Let’s go, Donny Downer.”
Who would have known those would have been my famous last words before I really get this party started …
Chapter Six
Austin
Sunday
A full two-day break after Thursday night’s events was exactly what I needed to recharge my battery. It took us almost two hours to stabilize that poor kid, Candace. She needed surgery, and we had set up a transfer for her to be relocated to a burn center, which took longer than expected. In any case, I didn’t get home until eight the next morning.
Sundays are usually busy during the day but slow at night, so I’m hoping for a quiet shift before the week starts.
“Austin, Austin, Austin,” Daisy drawls. “Boy oh boy, do I have the patient for you.”
Daisy is the administrator who takes in all patient information, and when things are disastrous, she prioritizes the patient list in order of importance … those with the most critical injuries or illnesses to be examined and treated first. However, with nothing but a few broken bones and a couple dozen stitches this afternoon, we’re working on a first-come, first-served basis.
“You’re not sticking me with Old Lady Shoomer again, are you?” I ask her. “I know to beware when you ‘Austin, Austin, Austin’ me.”
“No, dummy.”
“Good because, let me tell you, I can deal with just about any bodily fluid, missin’ limbs, and what not, but I cannot handle her oozing bunion another time this week.”
Daisy shivers and convulses. “This is why I prefer sitting behind a computer screen. Y’all can have fun with your oozin’ bunions back there.” She waves her hands toward triage.
“Okay so if it isn’t an oozin’ bunion, what do you have in store for me?”
Daisy smiles, but not just any old smile. It’s her “I’m-up-to-no-good” smile. I’ve known Daisy most of my life since my sister used to babysit her when she was a kid. I’ve got about ten years on her, and it shows most days. “Triage, bay four,” she says, pinning her tongue between her teeth.
“Payback is a—”
“Watch your mouth, Austin Trace.”
“Just sayin’,” I reply with a quick wink. Daisy is always sticking me with the worst patients. She thinks it’s funny, but I also think sometimes Clara may tell her to do it. As a result, I do win the battle of the worst ER stories most days, but I’m just not sure it’s always worth the win.
I head into triage while whistling to my own tune when I’m interrupted by a couple fighting in the bay I'm supposed to be tending to. “What’s going on in here with y’all?” I ask, interrupting their argument.
The guy takes a seat in the corner and fidgets around nervously as if he can’t sit still. Then there’s the girl. She’s not nervous or fidgety. She’s fiery mad about something, most likely the wrist she’s cradling.
“What’s your name, darlin’?”
She tosses me a gaze full of fury, and I’m wondering what the hell I said wrong. “Darling?” she questions.
Okay, she’s definitely in a mood. “Uh, buttercup?” I press my luck.
“Scarlett. My name is Scarlett, not ‘darlin’ or ‘buttercup’. Actually, I’d be willing to go out on a limb and say it’s probably written on the folder you’re holding in your hand. I don’t recall registering at the front desk with the name Darling or Buttercup.”
“Noted,” I tell her. “Mind if I asked what happened? Horseback riding, fence jumping, or just a silly ole’ flyin’ pig?”
She groans and throws her head back into the pillow. “My God, I’ve literally been in this godforsaken state for less than five hours, and I’m already about to lose my fucking mind.” She covers her face and takes a deep breath before composing her anger. “We were trying to find some kind of civilization, but this bonehead behind me found a wicked stellar shortcut that was disguised as a fake path because what looked like pretty green grass was just a big gaping hole. Down I went, and here I am. Fun, right?”
“Ah, you fell for the ole’ fake grass trick, huh?” I joke with her, hoping to cool her anger down a bit. “It’s actually a way some farmers keep coyotes away from their land.” I’m totally screwing with her, but with her biting attitude, I think she needs to take back what she’s giving out.
“Aww, you’re just so funny, aren’t ya?”
I clear my throat, trying my best not to smirk at this uptight princess who is not from down south, and it’s not just her accent that gives it away. I slip on a pair of gloves, then move to her side and slide my hand carefully under her wrist to check for swelling. I find her palm swollen at first touch, so I look up at her face to gauge her pain level.
Her eyes are wide, and under the fluorescent lighting, they’re a very vibrant hue of brown mixed with different shades of green. I try not to pay attention to the beautiful contradiction the colors hold against her messy auburn hair that’s up in a high ponytail with strands of loose curls spilling out onto her shoulders. I’ll also try not to notice this is a smoking hot chick under my care, but then again, I’d have to be blind for her looks not to catch my attention. Scarlett’s forehead scrunches as I press into her palm, and she grits her teeth. “Does that hurt?”
“Yeah,” she says breathlessly. “It’s swollen, and it doesn’t feel good.” She rolls her eyes. “Unless you’re into that sort of thing.” That last part is muttered under her breath, but it’s awfully forward of her to say something like that without knowing me at all.
“It might just be a sprain, but I’ll have a doc come in and check you out to determine whether you need X-rays or not. I’m guessing you will. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be there in just a minute,” Dr. Brown says as he whips open the curtain of the bay across the triage area.
“Alrighty Scarlett, I have some ice here to help with the swelling.”
“What’s your name?” the “bonehead” guy asks.
“Austin Trace. I’m an RN here.” The guy continues to fidget around, and I can’t figure out what his deal is. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah,” he says, his voice tempering into a high-pitched squeal. “I just don’t do well in hospitals. Blood does me in, so thankfully we’re only dealing with a sprain or a broken bone.” He laughs nervously and drops his head between his shoulders to take in some deep breaths. Oh boy.
“Thankfully?” Scarlett snaps at him. “Why are you even here if this is bothering you so much?”
“That’s just the pain talking, boo-boo,” the guy says. Then, lifting his head back up, he faces me. “I’m Brendan, by the way,” he says, holding his hand out for me to shake. “Scarlett just gets a little moody when things don’t go right, or if she’s hungry, or in pain—”
“Brenny, shut it,” Scarlett snaps. “Well, he doesn’t know when to stop talking.” Scarlett looks over at her friend/boyfriend/husband—whatever he is—and nods her head.
“Where y’all from?” I ask.
“Boston,” Brendan answers. “We moved down here for Scarlett’s job transfer.” Whatever type of relationship these two are in, they don’t seem like the best fit in the world, but to each their own, I guess.
“Ah, where you workin’ at?” I continue. It’s best to keep patients calm with life questions they’re comfortable talking about, and this should be a safe question that I assume she won’t mind answering.
“Bayview Plantation B&B.”
I snicker, but not purposely, and not at her. “Don’t tell me you’re working for Ellis Freedman?”
“Yeah, that’s him. Why?” She swivels her body around to get more comfortable, making the pain in her arm more evident as the color in her cheeks disappears.
“You okay?” I ask her.
“Can I have some Advil or something?” She’s taken her attitude down a notch, probably knowing it’s better to be nice when you need help from someone. At least she’s smart enough to know that down here.
“I have to wait for the doc to check you out first, and then, depending on what he wants to do next, we’ll talk about getting you something to relieve the pain.”
She closes her eyes and swallows hard. I don’t know why it took me so long to notice the potential reason for her fall, but I’m now just noticing the shoes she’s wearing. They’ve got to be at least four-inch heels. No wonder she fell. I debate about asking her what she was thinking, but it’s probably best not to keep poking at her right now.
As Dr. Brown enters the bay, I tend to her file and jot down the initial information I’ve obtained. Scarlett doesn’t say a whole lot to Dr. Brown, but I hear her whimper a couple of times as he’s pressing on different locations. “Yeah, can you put in an order in for a full set of X-rays on her forearm.”
“Sure thing,” I tell him.
“Do you think it’s broken?” Scarlett asks.
“It’s hard to say without seeing X-rays, but I do think something is damaged in there. Once we receive the X-rays back, Austin will get you something for the pain and swelling.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Brendan says.
“This week could not get any worse,” Scarlett says. “I already want to go home, and I haven’t even been here a full day.”
“Want me to call your parents?” Brendan asks her.
“God, no. Are you insane?” she responds.
“Evidently,” he mutters.
“What kind of work do you do at the hotel?” I ask Scarlett, still trying to distract her from the pain.
She scoots around again, trying to keep upright on the bed, so I hit the switch to lower the back of the bed a few inches to keep her from having to struggle.
“I ran the front desk at a chain hotel in Boston, and they transferred me down here to do the same at Bayview.”
“Hmm,” I say.
“What?” she snaps. “What do you mean by that?”
“What?” I reply.
“Why did you say, ‘Hmm’?”
“You don’t strike me as the type to want to deal with needy people all day.” That might have been a little much, but she should know an attitude like that won’t get her anywhere around here, and I don’t think she’s putting on a show just for me. Maybe it’s from the pain, but I get the sense this is who she is. I have heard rumors about Boston girls and their spicy ways, and after meeting this one, I think it’s safe to assume there’s some truth to the rumors.
“As a matter of fact, I am a lovely person. People like me, so your accusation couldn’t be farther from fact.”
Brendan snorts from behind her and quickly covers his mouth with the back of his hand. Scarlett turns to face him quicker than she should have because she squeals in pain, grabbing her wrist with her other hand. “Let’s just relax, okay?” I say gently as I reposition the ice on her wrist, and she glances up at me, an unsettled look swimming through her eyes.
“I’ve never broken a bone, had stitches, or surgery. The second I get here, I land in the hospital. This place is just bad luck,” she says.
“I guess so,” I agree. It most certainly hasn’t ever brought me any luck, so maybe she’s onto something.
A notification pops up on my pager, letting me know the X-ray tech is ready for her. “All right, I’m going to take you down to Radiology. Let me just grab a wheelchair real quick. Oh, and Brendan, why don’t you go have a seat out in the waiting area, and I’ll come get you when she’s through.”
“A wheelchair?” Brendan asks with panic.
“Hospital rules,” Austin says. “We don’t want her tripping in those heels on the way to radiology.”
Brendan stands up, looking a little wobbly. He leans over and gives Scarlett a kiss on the cheek. “I told you,” he says. “Ugh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’ll be okay, babe.” I step out of the curtained area and grab the chair, listening for Scarlett’s response to her friend, but there’s nothing but silence. They’re an odd couple, I guess.
Once he’s out of triage, I help Scarlett up and into the chair and wheel her toward Radiology. “You’ve got a good guy there, ya know. He clearly cares about you,” I tell her. I should probably keep my thoughts to myself with this one.
“He’s not my guy,” she says. “He’s my friend.”
“Well, it may not be any of my business, but it sure seems like he cares about you as more than just a friend.”
Scarlett laughs but winces at the same time. “No, he’s not into women.”
“Ah, gotcha.” Foot in mouth. I’m so damn good at that. It’s one of my most remarkable qualities, as a matter of fact.
“Men can’t seem to put up with me for whatever reason, so it just happens to work out for Brendan and me.”
I can venture a guess that the “reason” might have something to do with her attitude, but I won’t judge while she’s in pain. “I can’t say my luck has been any different with women, so I hear ya.”
She glances over at me and gives me a once over. “Right, I’m sure.” She’s a snippy one all right.
Chapter Seven
Scarlett
How is this my life right now? Maybe I’ll wake up and it will be last Thursday, and I’ll just make sure I’m on time to work. However, if that were the case, I wouldn’t have met this hottie nurse man, so that would be a downside. I’m not sure a hot guy is worth all this crap, though. I’d still rather wake up in my bed back in Boston.
I see the sign for Radiology at the end of the hall. I’m not sure how I’ve managed to make it twenty-nine years without having an X-ray, but I’m not a bit into activities that might end with stitches or a b
roken bone so that probably explains it.
“It’s just over here. The technician will take care of the X-rays, and I’ll be back afterward to take you back to triage. Sound good?”
“Okay,” I tell him. In a strange way, I kind of wish he’d stay, but I guess that’s not allowed. Something is definitely broken in my wrist. It’s not a sprain. I feel it. I just hope it’s not too bad. I still have to start work in two days somehow.
“Everything will be okay,” Austin says, placing his hand on my shoulder.
I look up at him—his stupid, pretty blue eyes, and his mess of sandy brown hair. So far, all I’ve seen are bronzed people down here. Must be nice to have a sweet tan in April since I’m still paler than an unripened strawberry. “I seriously doubt that. Do you tell your dying patients that too?”
He looks taken aback by my crass comment. “Not usually,” he says with a raised brow, “but don’t worry. I don’t think your wrist is terminal.”
“I guess that’s good to know,” I tell him.
“Look, let me just give you a piece of advice, okay?”
“I don’t need advice,” I tell him.
“Well, I’m going to give it to you anyway. People down here away from Boston are typically friendly, with a little less attitude compared to what y’all northern folk must be used to. You might want to take it down a notch.”
“Are you fuckin’ kidding? I’m in pain. I’m pissed off, and I don’t want to be here. On top of all that, I’m probably going to end up with a cast on my arm for the next six weeks while trying to start a new job, so you’ll have to excuse me for having an attitude.” I’d like to tell him to stop being so damn chipper like the rest of the people down here, but that’ll probably have just as much effect on him as his words have on me.
“Just givin’ you a word of advice—take it how you want.”
“Well, thanks. I’ll keep it in my back pocket in case I need it.”
The Man Cave Collection: Manservant, Man Flu, Man Handler, and Man Buns Page 65