by Hazel James
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.
Editing by Erin Noelle and JaVa Editing
Cover Design by Pink Ink Designs www.pinkinkdesigns.com
Formatting by Champagne Formats www.champagneformats.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
1. Paige—Drive Friendly
2. Paige— That Poor Pineapple
3. DH— Two Rhoads Diverged
4. DH— I Never Said I Was a Saint
5. Paige— I Think the Universe Hates Me
6. Paige— Dinner With the Devil
7. DH— Twenty-Two
8. DH— U.L.M.
9. Paige— Wrecked
10. Paige— The Calm Before the Storm
11. DH— Brewing
12. DH— Too Many Ghosts
13. Paige— Sonic Realizations
14. Paige— This is War
15. DH— Sin and Cherries
16. DH— A New Chapter
17. Paige— All the Feels
18. Paige—Surrender
19. DH— Everything Has Changed
20. DH— Goals
21. Paige— Superman
22. Paige— Bad Things Happen in Threes
23. DH— Fuck This Shit
24. DH— Starting Over
25. Paige— Restored
26. Paige— My Cup Runneth Over
27. DH— One Shot
28. DH— DH is _________.
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Acknowledgements
Playlist
About the Author
Other Works by Hazel James
For my husband.
“YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING me.”
Of all the times to hear the call button… Sadie and West were this close to getting it on. I sigh and toss my book back into my Kate Spade cognac purse, a gift to myself two months ago when I started working at Barton Memorial Hospital. I don’t mean to sound whiny; I love my job. Being hired fresh out of nursing school—especially in this economy—is a big freakin’ deal. And working the night shift in the emergency room has been fun so far.
Minus getting puked on last week. That was not fun.
But overall, there seems to be less drama and politics than with the daytime crew, and I feel like I’m able to do my job and make a difference. Sometimes, like tonight, I get to take an actual dinner break. That means I get to read for about twenty solid minutes. Well, make that fifteen, courtesy of the call button. I’m sure the dude in bed three sat on the remote again, but he’s my patient, so I still need to check. Which means my break is over five sexually-frustrated minutes early.
Oh, well. I suppose I would’ve been even more frustrated had I finished that chapter, and Chad’s not due in for another fifteen hours. For the record, having a long-distance boyfriend sucks. Page 140 of Wet will have to wait until I get home, where I have access to my vibrator and my shower.
Don’t judge.
After confirming that Mr. Hopewell in bed three did, in fact, butt-dial me, I stride back to the nurses’ station. Diane, the pint-sized charge nurse, has News 9 pulled up on the small television mounted on the wall above the printer. I like standing next to her because she makes my five-foot-four-inch-self appear to be taller than I am. The meteorologist is waving his hands over a big blob of dark red on the radar. The other three nurses milling about the station seem completely unimpressed.
“This line of thunderstorms developed in southern Grady County and is pushing north-northeast through McClain and Cleveland Counties. Val Castor is on the ground in Norman tracking a tornado just east of I-35. I strongly urge residents near OU to take your tornado precautions.”
“Shit, are we gonna get hit? I thought tornadoes didn’t happen in the middle of the night.” My eyes dart between Diane and the TV screen. I know I take I-35 to work, but I can’t remember if we’re north or south of Norman. Or maybe it’s east? I’ve never been known for my sense of direction. I twist around to look out the front doors, but all I see is rain illuminated by the parking lot lights.
Jack shuffles out of the break room and plops down into a chair next to me. “Relax, Paige. Moore is about ten miles north of Norman. You’re safe. And no, tornadoes can happen whenever they want to. They don’t keep bankers’ hours.” He suppresses a yawn and cracks open a Monster energy drink. He reminds me of Zack Morris from Saved by the Bell, only he’s not nearly as endearing. Or cute.
Diane turns her attention from the TV to me. “Is this your first tornado?”
“Yeah. One almost hit when I was in third grade. I had to get under my desk at school, but it never actually touched down.” I pull my cherry lip gloss out of the pocket of my scrubs and slick my lips. It’s a habit I picked up in sixth grade that never went away, especially when I’m nervous.
“Shoot, by the time I was in third grade, my elementary school had already been half-destroyed by a tornado,” Jack brags before he guzzles half the can.
“Where’d you say you’re from?” Diane asks, tucking a loose strand of chestnut hair back into her bun.
“Monroe, Louisiana.”
“Ha! You said Loozy-ana.” Jack snorts and chokes on his last gulp. Serves him right. He probably teases all the new nurses, but I’m not positive, because I’m the only one.
Diane gives Jack a side-eye as he coughs into his elbow, then turns her attention back to me. “How’d you end up in Oklahoma?”
“I applied to a bunch of places. I lived in Monroe all my life and wanted something new, I guess,” I reply with a shrug. Chad said he’d be more than willing to follow me, since he can be a CPA anywhere. I can’t wait until he’s done with school. Just one more year and he’ll be here with me, and we’ll be engaged. I tried telling him I’d be perfectly fine with the getting engaged part now, but he’s all about doing steps in the right order.
Such a stickler, that one.
“Well, you’ll have to tell me more about it later,” Diane advises, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Right now it’s time for a bathroom break.”
My eyebrows draw together. “You’re making us take a bathroom break?” I know I’m still new here, but this is a first.
“It’s not mandatory, but you’ll thank me later,” she calls over her shoulder before entering the staff restroom.
“Umm. Okay. Thanks?”
Jack tugs one of my blond curls as he walks to the men’s room. “Dude. Tornado on the ground means injuries. We work in the emergency room. You do the math.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Welcome to Oklahoma, Paige.” He winks and closes the door behind him.
Now I get what Diane meant. About fifteen minutes after the tornado hit, the patients started pouring in. It’s the first time I’ve seen nursing staff work together in this capacity. Despite being the new kid, I managed to hold my own. Two patients had concussions, one had a broken leg, and four were in a car crash and were sent to the OR. Finally, I’m down to my last patient.
“Hi, Mr. Rhoads.” I move aside the curtain around bed four and scan his chart briefly to see what happened. “It says here that you were struck in the head by a sign during the tornado?” I look up and see an attractive man sitting on the bed holding a wadded yellow shirt caked with blood over his left eyebrow. O
f course, I’d get the hot one. Why did I have to read that damn book?
“Drive friendly,” he chuckles quietly.
“Excuse me?” I wiggle my fingers into a pair of latex gloves and remove the makeshift bandage to get a better look at his injury. It doesn’t seem too deep, and most of the bleeding has slowed. Aside from the gash, he’s in good health. Great health, if I’m being truthful. Golden skin, washboard abs, pecs that have me itching to examine them, too… did I mention I love my job?
“You know, the ones on the highway that say ‘Drive Friendly,’” he explains, whipping my attention back to the task at hand.
“So, a sign crashed into your vehicle and hit your head?” I don’t see how that’s possible. Surely, he’d have more injuries, right?
A guy sitting in the chair across from the bed snorts. “No, dipshit over there was on the road trying to get better pictures of the tornado. I tried to tell him we were in the debris zone, but he wouldn’t listen.”
I look back and forth between the two men, noting the resemblance. Both have dark brown hair and brown eyes, but my patient has a beard and the other guy is clean-shaven. “I’m sorry, you are…”
“Eric. Dipshit’s cousin.” He smiles and nods his chin toward my patient.
“And how do you expect to see a tornado in the middle of the night? Isn’t it too dark?”
“Lightning,” Eric replies. “Anyway, I’m gonna call Maggie and check in,” he says to his cousin. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He waves to us both on his way out.
“Well, Mr. Rhoads, let’s get this cleaned up so the doc can see if you’ll need stitches.” He will—at least three or four, from what I can tell—but that’s not my job. It’s also not my job to check out my patients, but I don’t see any harm in that as long as I stay professional.
“DH,” he says, as I open the cabinet beside the bed and take out the gauze and saline.
“What’s DH?”
“My name.”
My mind instantly jumps to what that could stand for. I settle on Deliciously Handsome, but don’t bother asking because that’s skirting the bounds of professionalism. “Well, DH. Why don’t you lie back on the bed and tell me why you were out hunting a tornado?” I pour some saline on the gauze and gently dab at the dried blood smeared across his forehead.
“Chasing,” he corrects me. “We were chasing a tornado. Hunting is for guns and animals.” His tone is stern, but his expression tells me he’s just joking.
“Okay, why were you chasing a tornado?” I try to not smile. This guy is seriously cute.
“Because I’m a storm chaser. It’s part of the job description.”
“Why on earth would you chase something that can kill you?” I angle his head slightly toward me and lean in to reach the other side of his wound. It takes me about three seconds to realize I’m putting my boobs in his face. In my brief mental fantasy, he pulls me on top of him, treating me to the best five minutes of foreplay I’ve ever had.
So much for staying professional.
I look down and see that his eyes are closed, but I’m not sure if it’s out of respect for me or the fact that I’m washing dirt out of his gash. Regardless, I’m glad. That means he can’t see my red cheeks.
“Have you ever found something that excites the fuck out of you and scares you shitless at the same time?”
I think for a moment. “No, I can’t say that I have.”
“Ever skydived?”
“No.”
“Bungee jumped?”
“No.”
“Stood on a mountain top?”
“No.” I wince slightly, feeling like the lamest girl on the planet. I wish I could have said yes just to see what he looks like when he’s impressed.
“Well, nurse, I’d say you haven’t done much living yet.”
“Paige.” He opens his eyes and peers up at me through thick lashes. Fuck, he’s beautiful. “My name. It’s Paige.”
“Okay, Nurse Paige. Until you have something to relate to, it’s hard to describe why I love storm chasing. But basically, it’s one of the greatest highs you’ll ever know. Just think of it as the best sex of your life multiplied by one hundred.” His eyes move down to my lips briefly, then back up. “Tell me that’s something you’ve done before?”
“Gotten high?” I ask, dodging his question. “No.” I toss the dirty gauze in the red biohazard bin and put the lid on the bottle of saline, then motion for him to sit up. If he was anyone else, I would help him, but I don’t need my hands on him more than medically necessary.
A low rumble ripples through his chest. “Touché, Paige,” he mutters, rubbing his beard. His eyes have a wicked gleam to them. I turn my back and throw my gloves away, giving my body a few seconds to cool off.
The curtain swings aside, and Dr. Williams enters with Eric two steps behind him.
“Ah, DH. It’s good to see you, as always,” Dr. Williams says with a smile. He’s a slender man in his mid-forties, and his wife makes the best cookies. But more importantly, he respects the nursing staff. That always makes for a more enjoyable shift. “Did you get any good footage?”
“I was taking stills tonight, but yeah, I think I got a few good ones.”
Dr. Williams puts on a pair of gloves and looks at the gash on DH’s forehead while I assemble the supplies he’ll need for stitches. “I heard this one wasn’t that big.”
“No, probably just an F1. It was only on the ground for a few minutes,” Eric chimes in.
“And let me guess… DH, you’re here because you weren’t listening to the brains of the operation?” Dr. Williams jokes, pointing to Eric.
“Why does everyone always call him the smart one?” DH asks.
Eric laughs. “Because you’re here about ten times more than I am.”
“Yeah, yeah.” DH grins, clearly enjoying the easy banter in the room. His smile is nothing short of beautiful—perfect teeth surrounded by full lips and dimples peeking out just above his beard. I’m such a sucker for dimples. And beards.
“Okay, you know the drill. Any last wishes?” Dr. Williams swabs DH’s skin for the lidocaine injection.
“Just make me look pretty.” DH is still smiling.
“Dude, that ship sailed long ago,” Eric quips.
Seeing that the doc has everything under control, I quietly slip out of the curtained area for some fresh air. I need some space from DH and those damn dimples.
Better yet, I need Chad to hurry up and get here.
Whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp.
“Just my fucking luck,” I groan to myself. Two miles away from home and Ruby, my little red Honda Civic, gets a flat. I turn on my hazards and pull onto the shoulder to assess the damage. My rear right tire doesn’t give a damn that I want to go home, shower with my vibrator, and get some sleep before Chad arrives.
I yank open the passenger door to search for my insurance card, silently praying that my roadside assistance includes Saturday mornings. My glove box is full of nursing study guides and empty granola bar wrappers, but my card is nowhere to be found.
“Fuck!” I slam the glove box closed, take a calming breath, and pull my phone out of my purse to call Allison, my roommate.
She answers with a gravelly voice three rings later. “This better be an emergency.”
“It sort of is. I have a flat, and I can’t find my insurance towing number.”
“Where are you?”
“Almost home. I’m on—” I pause to check the GPS. “Morgan Street just before Lori Lane.”
“All right. I’ll call my brother-in-law to see if he can come by.”
I hear a rumble and turn around to see a white truck pulling onto the shoulder. “Hey, stay on the phone for a sec. Someone just stopped behind me.” My hand tightens around the canister of pepper spray I carry in my purse. I have no idea what Oklahomans… Oklahomians… Okies?… are like. For all I know, this guy could be the next Hannibal Lecter in search of a meal.
“What’s he look
like?” Allison is suddenly more awake than she was moments ago.
“Not sure, he just opened the door.”
My heartbeat picks up as two legs step out of the truck, but relief washes over me as soon as the door shuts and I get a glimpse of the guy sauntering to my car. “It’s okay, Ali. It’s a patient I had a couple of hours ago.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Don’t call your brother-in-law just yet. I’ll call you back if he kidnaps me.”
“Sounds good.” She disconnects and I get out of the passenger seat and walk to the driver’s side of the car.
“You know, stalking is illegal in a lot of states, DH.” A smile plays at the corner of my lips. Dr. Williams did a good job on his stitches. DH somehow looks even hotter than he did in the ER, but maybe that’s just the nurse in me being attracted to guys with wounds.
He offers up an easy grin and gestures at my car. “Good thing I’m just trying to rescue a damsel in distress. What’s wrong?”
“Flat tire.”
DH rubs his hands together. “Ah, you’re in luck. Flat tires are my specialty.”
“I bet that’s what you say to all the girls.”
“Nah, just the pretty ones with blue eyes.” He winks and walks back to his truck, returning a few minutes later with an old red toolbox and some type of machine.
“Do you need me to get the donut out of my trunk?” Shit, do I even have a donut? Chad would know, but he’s still not here.
“Nope, I’m gonna put a plug in the one that’s flat.” Well, that solves the donut issue, but plugging a tire? What? DH follows me around to the passenger side and drops his tools on the ground, then moves his fingers over the tread.
“You picked up a nail somewhere.” He marks the tire with a piece of chalk and yanks out a two-inch nail with his pliers, causing more air to leak out.
I swallow a groan and prop one hand on my hip. “Aren’t you supposed to be keeping air in the tire?” I don’t have time for Tim ‘The Tool Man’ Taylor to fuck my car up even more. I need to get home.
“Do I tell you how to do your job, Nurse Paige?” DH flashes a brief smirk, then turns his attention back to his tools. Shit. The last thing I need to do is offend the guy who’s fixing my tire.