by Radclyffe
“Yeah, well don’t forget it.” Beau pointed to a reception area, happy for the conversation to be over. Just the same, finally letting go of the secret had lifted a weight from her shoulders. “Here we go.”
“Hey, you’re gonna go back with me, aren’t you?”
She smirked at him. “What’s the matter? Scared?”
“Hell, yeah,” he said.
“Of course I’m going with you.” She threw an arm around his shoulders. “I’ve got a thing for your doctor.”
*
“Your lungs sound good,” Ali said, looping her stethoscope around her neck. “I’ll get one of the nurses to walk you over to the pulmonary lab, and we’ll see just how well they’re working.”
Ali crossed to the intercom on the wall and called the nurses’ station for an escort. She studiously ignored Beau, which was difficult in the cramped confines of the examining room. She had expected Beau to show up with Bobby, but she hadn’t expected to be so affected by seeing her. When she’d walked into the room and seen Beau leaning against the wall, her legs encased in faded blue denim, a long-sleeved black T-shirt hugging her chest, and Ali’s own brown leather jacket carelessly slung over one shoulder, she’d wanted to touch her. She’d wanted to kiss her hello, the way lovers do. She physically ached for contact. For connection. Her response was far beyond sexual, and her heart still pounded with a mixture of wariness and excitement.
A soft knock sounded, the door opened, and a woman entered. “Hi, I’m Janie. I’ll walk you over for your tests now.”
Bobby looked at Ali with a hint of panic. “Can I have my pants first?”
“Janie,” Ali said. “Give Mr. Sizemore a minute to get dressed. Thanks.”
Beau pushed away from the wall and clapped Bobby on the shoulder. “I’ll see you when you’re done.”
Ali went out into the hall, conscious of Beau following her. “I need to talk to you for a minute. Come with me.”
“Anywhere, anytime,” Beau said in a low smoky voice.
“Don’t do that here.”
“Do what?”
“You know what,” Ali muttered. Beau was so close their shoulders brushed, and Ali’s stomach clutched dangerously. When would she ever get her hormones under control around her? She led Beau into the small staff office at the end of the hallway. The windowless eight-by-ten space was dominated by a dented gray metal desk covered with uneven stacks of charts, a phone, a dictation machine, and half-filled coffee cups, some with fuzz growing on the surface of the congealed liquid. Ali turned as Beau closed the door and rested her hips against the edge of the desk. “I have to cancel tonight.”
“Why?” Beau asked, her voice curiously flat. Her expression, though, looked wounded before emptying of all emotion.
That fleeting pain was enough to make Ali forget why touching her was dangerous.
“Hey.” Ali quickly crossed the few feet between them and cradled Beau’s jaw. She kissed her softly. “It’s work.”
Beau let out a breath and reached inside Ali’s lab coat to rest both hands on her waist. “I thought you were off tonight. You worked all night last night.”
Ali let herself relax against Beau’s body. Beau smelled faintly of citrus and something more pungent that stirred her low inside. Beau felt wonderful. “We’ve got a couple of patients in the unit going bad, and Wynter’s on call. I can’t leave her alone.”
“Okay. What about later? When you’re done?”
“It’ll probably be late.” Ali tugged the back of Beau’s T-shirt out of her jeans and slid her hand under the bottom. Beau’s skin was hot and when she massaged the firm muscles, Beau shuddered. When she realized what she was doing, she stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
Beau’s mouth twisted into a crooked grin. “You don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what,” Ali said, drifting in the captivating seductiveness of Beau’s eyes.
“I love you touching me. I love that you want me. And that’s just the beginning.” Beau swallowed. “I’m falling in love with you.”
Ali tumbled out of her sensory haze with a jolt. “What?”
“I’m falling in love with you,” Beau repeated.
“Beau,” Ali said, shaking her head. “I don’t—”
“It doesn’t have to be a problem,” Beau said.
“It is if we’re not on the same page about what we’re doing,” Ali said adamantly.
“What page are you on?”
“Well, obviously, I can’t keep my hands off you.” Ali backed up a step, then another. “I thought that’s what you wanted too.”
“Good sex and nothing else?” Beau asked.
“Can’t we just keep it simple?” Ali said, feeling desperate. Everything was spinning out of control way too fast. “Enjoy each other. Keep it light.”
“Sure. Absolutely. That’s the way I’ve always done it.” Beau took two steps forward, closing the distance Ali had put between them. She kissed Ali, thoroughly and skillfully. When she pulled away, she smiled with everything except her eyes. “One thing I can give is really good sex. Call me when you’re free and I’ll remind you.”
“Beau, wait.” Ali grasped Beau’s arm. Nothing about the conversation felt right. She wasn’t saying what she meant, but she didn’t know what she meant. All she knew was the light had gone out of Beau’s eyes, and that wasn’t what she wanted. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay, Ali. Really.” Beau gently pulled her arm free. “I better go find Bobby.”
And then she was gone and Ali was left in the too-quiet room, wondering how everything had gone so wrong. I’m falling in love with you. Even now, the words struck terror in her soul. She wasn’t looking for love. She’d never encouraged anyone to fall in love with her, because she didn’t want to love anyone back. As long as she kept everyone at a safe distance, she couldn’t be hurt. Only now she had the distance she’d always wanted, and she’d never hurt so much.
*
Jilly reached over and took the bottle of beer out of Beau’s hand. “That’s your fifth.”
“Why are we counting?” Beau asked, staring at the television. She had no idea what was on.
“We’re not, obviously. Just me.” Jilly passed a large bowl of popcorn to Beau. “Eat some of that.”
“Jilly,” Beau said, exasperated, “I’m not drunk.”
“I know. Not yet. But I’m not used to seeing you drink more than a couple.”
“It’s Friday night. I don’t have to work for three days. I’m relaxing.”
“You don’t look relaxed.”
Beau thumped her head against the back of the sofa. “Why do I feel like I’m sitting in Mom’s living room?”
“Because Mom loves you just like I do. And we don’t like it when you’re unhappy.”
“I’m not unhappy.”
Jilly ate some popcorn. “I know. You’re miserable.”
Beau rolled her head on the sofa back and glared at Jilly. “You didn’t tell me you were going out with Bobby.”
Jilly flushed. “You’re miserable because I’m having dinner with Bobby?”
“You know what I mean.”
“You’re trying to change the subject. But just to show you that I’m willing to share,” Jilly said archly, “I’m going out to dinner with Bobby next week. Happy now?”
“I already knew that. What I want to know is why didn’t you tell me?” Beau took the bowl of popcorn and balanced it on her knee. She shoveled a handful into her mouth and waited.
“Because I like him.”
Beau stopped chewing. “Uh-oh.”
“Just don’t say anything, okay?” Jilly folded her hands in her lap and appeared to be studying her nails. “I like him and I told him about the infection and he says he doesn’t care. And I don’t want that to be part of this anymore.”
“Okay.” Beau set the popcorn aside and shifted closer, sliding her arm around Jilly’s shoulders. “I told him too. My part. So there’s nothing you
need to keep from him because of me. You know, if and when.”
Jilly rested her head on Beau’s shoulder. “That’s a big deal. Your telling him.”
Beau sighed. “The hardest part was telling Ali that first time. It wasn’t so bad with Bobby.”
“I’m really proud of you.” Jilly rubbed her hand up and down Beau’s leg.
Beau rested her cheek against Jilly’s head. “I’m really proud of you too.”
“So are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
“I fucked up with Ali. I told her I was falling in love with her.”
“What did she say?”
“That she’s only interested in my body.” Beau grimaced. “Not in quite so many words, but that was the bottom line.”
“What are you going to do?” Jilly’s hand stilled on Beau’s leg.
“There’s nothing to do.” Beau retrieved her beer. “What she wants has always been enough for me.”
“I guess that should work,” Jilly said carefully. “Especially if you’re not looking for anything long-term.”
“No point complicating a good thing.” Beau had lost her taste for the beer. She peeled off the label with her thumb, trying to figure out when she had gotten so good at lying to herself.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Have the residents set up the incident command center in the far right corner of the gym and the field hospital opposite that,” Ali said to Wynter. She handed her a printout. “This marks the position of each victim—those within the red circle are in the line of fire. Each VIC SIM will have a yellow tag listing their injuries clipped to their shirt.”
Wynter glanced down at the clipboard with the victim scenarios listed. “We’ve got twelve GSWs—one pregnant woman, one child, two dead on scene, four critical, and four walking wounded. Do you have a preference for who I put where?”
Ali waved her hand. “Do it any way you want. Just make sure their injury tags are visible so the first responders will know what they’re dealing with.” She jammed her hands on her hips and frowned. “They were supposed to mark the red zone with a circle on the floor—they didn’t want us to do it because they have some kind of special marker that won’t damage the surface. If they don’t send someone from maintenance in here to do it soon, I’m going to do it myself, the floor be damned.”
“Want to give me a hint what’s chewing on your butt this morning?” Wynter asked mildly.
“Nothing except for a five-hour field test with ten testosterone-hyped paramedics and a handful of clueless surgical residents. Present company excluded.”
“I didn’t know all the paramedics were guys this round,” Wynter said.
“They’re not. There are three women in this group, but I’m sure their testosterone levels are just as high as the men’s.”
Three women, one of whom was Beau. When Ali had directed the paramedics to the locker room where they could sort their gear and leave their coats, Beau had been at the back of the group with two gorgeous women. A blonde who could easily have been a young Daryl Hannah and a small, tight-bodied, sloe-eyed Latina who was practically glued to Beau’s side. Beau had given Ali a quick glance and a cocky grin before moving on with her friends. The look had been hot but practiced, and Ali missed the singular desire that had been in Beau’s scorching looks until yesterday. Yesterday, when Beau had wanted to tell her she was more than just another in a line of women and she hadn’t wanted to hear it. She’d shut Beau down. Shut her out.
Can’t have it both ways, Be careful what you wish for, and a host of other platitudes raced through Ali’s mind. She was verging on bitchy and she wanted to blame her foul mood on lack of sleep. She’d gotten home at eleven the night before after removing six feet of necrotic small intestine from an elderly woman who’d fallen down the stairs, broken her hip, and suffered an MI. The woman had developed heart failure followed by cardiogenic shock, and when the blood flow to her G.I. tract had fallen dangerously low, her small intestine had died. A classic example of the inevitable downward spiral that so often accompanied serious injury in the elderly. The case had left her dispirited and added to the hollow ache remaining after her conversation with Beau. Her disquiet had kept her up most of the night, and now she was tired, frustrated, and most of all, lonely.
Ali glanced at the big digital clock on the wall. 11:50 a.m. “I’m due to give the introduction in ten minutes. I’ll send the VIC SIMS out here on my way to collect the trainees.”
“What else can I do to help?” Wynter said gently.
Ali pulled herself back to the present and smiled wryly. “Sorry. I remember now why it is I don’t like to get involved with women. Too much drama.”
“Oh. What did she do?”
“Believe me, you don’t want to know.”
“Oh, but I really do. And now—we’ve still got a few minutes.”
Ali nearly laughed. Wynter could somehow get her to talk about almost anything. Or maybe it was just getting easier to talk, but she found herself saying, “She told me she thinks she’s falling in love with me.”
“Well that’s worthy of a news flash. You are the worst kind of girlfriend—how could you not have told me that?” Wynter swatted Ali on the arm. “What did you say?”
“I said I didn’t think we should get serious.”
Wynter’s eyes widened. “Ouch.”
Ali frowned. “What do you mean, ouch?”
“I just mean that’s hard to hear—when you have feelings for someone and they don’t have feelings for you.” Wynter squeezed Ali’s arm. “But if you don’t feel that way about her, you don’t feel that way. I’m sure she’ll hurt for a little while, but eventually she’ll appreciate your honesty too.”
“I hope so,” Ali said, but the uneasy feeling of wrongness was back again. She hated the thought of Beau hurting. She didn’t want that. I’m sure she’ll appreciate your honesty. Is that what it had been when she’d told Beau she wanted to keep things light? Honesty?
If so, why did it feel so much like cowardice?
*
Beau sat on the top riser of the bleachers at one end of the gym, sandwiched between Lynn and Solea Martinez, listening to Ali explain the upcoming field test. Bobby sat in front of her, his broad back nearly filling the space between her spread knees.
“This is the scenario,” Ali said. “A sniper has opened fire on a campus quadrangle at noon on a weekday when the area is filled with students and staff. He, or she, is presumed to be firing from a rooftop and is still at large. All of the shots have landed within a two-hundred-foot radius. That ‘live fire’ area will be marked in red on the simulated field. Any victims still in that zone are considered to be within sight of the shooter.”
Beau tried not to stare at Ali, but it was difficult seeing her after a restless night filled with disquieting dreams and stress sweats. She’d finally given up trying to sleep at five in the morning. After quietly showering and dressing, she’d left a note for Jilly and Bobby in the kitchen and hit the gym at six a.m. She’d stopped by the station house after that, not knowing quite what to do with herself, and run into Solea just coming off shift. She’d waited for Solea to shower and change and they’d had breakfast at a diner before heading to the sports complex on Walnut.
Solea was easy company, and flirty. Beau hadn’t heard she was hooked up with anyone, but even if Solea was single, she wasn’t interested. Solea was hot—deep chocolate eyes that made you melt when they slid over you, a luscious body with full breasts she managed to show off even in a uniform shirt, and a round firm ass that begged to be squeezed. Everything about her promised smoldering sex, but Beau couldn’t muster up a twinge. Her clit slept like the dead and her heart hurt.
So even though Solea’s breast was pressed into her arm at the moment, all she could do was watch the way Ali canted one hip as she read through the rules and regs for the upcoming training. She followed the graceful arcs Ali made with one hand as she spoke and imagined Ali caressing her. Suddenly, her clit was resur
rected, and the timing couldn’t have been worse. She shifted uncomfortably on the narrow wooden bench and when she leaned back and spread her arms out, trying to relieve the tension in her lower body, Solea scooted closer and rubbed against her side like a big dangerous cat. Ali must have caught the movement because she paused for just a second to glare in Beau’s direction.
Beau grinned as if to say What can I do?
After all, she wasn’t doing anything to encourage Solea, and even if she had been, Ali had pretty much said she was a free agent.
*
Ali traversed the gym, making notes on the trainees’ performances as they evaluated and treated the simulated victims. Wynter and one of the surgical instructors from another hospital did the same. Paramedics were graded not only on their diagnostic and emergency care skills, but also on how they assessed the threat level to themselves and the victims. No one was served by having first responders turn into victims in a mass casualty situation. She paid particular attention to how the trainees dealt with the victims still within the active range of fire.
She stopped beside Beau.
“You’re a target for the shooter, Firefighter.”
“So are you, Dr. Torveau,” Beau said, not looking up from an unresponsive male victim. She split his trouser leg with a large pair of bandage scissors and retrieved a pressure pack from her field kit. “At least I’m crouching, the sun is at my back so it will be harder for the shooter to see me clearly, and I’m wearing a vest. This guy has a transected femoral artery and if I don’t get the bleeding stopped in the next forty-five seconds, he’s dead.”
Beau was right and Ali knew it. Beau was in the danger zone, but it was a judgment call and well within the first responder’s right to make it. She was pushing her because she couldn’t stand to see her in the line of fire, even in a training situation. Beau’s decision was defensible, but she couldn’t help believe that even if it hadn’t been, Beau would have done exactly what she was doing. She was so single-minded. So unconcerned for her own welfare. So ridiculously, gloriously brave.