Emily hated Ben O'Connor and had since the day her sister married him. He had never given her a specific reason besides just being a rich, cocky asshole with an attitude problem. The idea of spending any period of time with him drove her mad. Amelia was such a sweet woman, Emily could never understand why her sister put up with him.
“I feel fine, so I guess I might as well get that knocked out of the way.” She would have to put her own feelings to the side for the day so she could, hopefully, buy a new car.
"I wonder why they kept me for this long," Emily said, coming out of the bathroom with her hands on her hips.
"You had a major head injury. I'd be mad if they didn't. They should keep you longer. We've lost too many important people in our lives to mess around with letting you go so soon."
"I'll be fine," Emily said, kissing her sister on the top of the head. "Now tell me what I should wear. Let's see what Becca brought me."
Becca was her best friend and had been nice enough to drop off a bag of stuff for her. Emily hefted her full backpack onto the bed searching for a clean shirt. Inside were her makeup bag, hair accessories, the lime-green robe she couldn't live without, her pink and black Nike comfort flip-flops she used as house shoes, and most of all her own clothes. The hospital staff had been nice enough to let her skip out on the ugly, uncomfortable gown. She chose her I love Si t-shirt which incorporated a huge, red heart alongside the picture of Uncle Si Robertson from Duck Dynasty.
“You look like a hobo." That was Amelia the fashion snob talking, a person that came out whenever Emily put on anything plain, boring, or anything without a designer tag. Fashion gods forbid any of her wardrobe be bought at Walmart!
“You're a hobo! And, hey don't hate on Si.” Emily snapped back with a laugh. “Besides, I wasn't brought the greatest variety.”
“On that fashion disaster note, I am leaving. I have work to do tonight, and a client meeting at seven-thirty.” Amelia rose from the hospital chair, promised to call Emily later and wrapped her in a tight hug before leaving. The sound of Amelia's heels clicked down the hallway, drowned out by the hospital noise.
She applied make-up over her face, taking care to avoid the stitches in her forehead. She finished by rolling on some pink lip gloss. She puckered her lips in the mirror. Duck face perfection, she thought, chuckling. Waiting for him was making her giddy. She hadn't felt this type of anticipation since her high-school senior prom.
Her lifelong best friend, Becca would be interested in hearing the news. Emily reclined on the hospital bed and punched in a message.
Emily: Got a hot fireman visitor today, he is coming back tonight.
Before she could set her phone down, it buzzed with Becca's reply.
Becca: What? Where? How? Who is he?
Emily quickly replied.
Emily: He pulled me out of my car, came to visit today to see how I was doing. Bringing me a burger and shake tonight.
That burger sounded so good. Even though her stomach was rumbling something fierce, she might find it hard to concentrate on the food when she was sharing a meal with a super hot fireman. One of her weaknesses had always been a man in uniform. On her twenty-first birthday Becca had dragged her out to a male strip club full of fake firemen and cops. What a night that was!
Becca: Take a picture of him when he isn't looking. I want to see what he looks like.
Emily burst into laughter so hard that her chest hurt.
Emily: Creeper!
Emily replied, shaking her head with a smile.
Just after six-thirty, she heard a soft knock.
“Come in,” Emily called.
The door inched open to reveal not Avery, but a familiar looking doctor. He had intense brown eyes and wore his short, brown hair spiked up. Emily guessed he was over six feet tall. He flashed his perfect pearly whites when their eyes met. His whole face lit up. She felt like she'd seen his face before, then she remembered. He was in her Facebook album.
“Hi Emily,” he said while walking towards her bed with his smile never fading. His name tag read Jared Hart, M.D. in bold letters, above the miniature words Emergency Medicine Resident. She struggled to place him, but continued coming up blank.
“Hi, Dr. Hart is it?” She asked with a puzzled look on her face. “I'm sorry, but I have seen so many doctors today I just can't remember everyone and keep y'all straight.”
Her stomach turned flips as she was struck by inexplicable nerves. A chill rushed over her body as she pulled the blanket up higher waiting for the doctor to speak again. But he didn't speak, just eyed her with an utterly confused expression.
“You don't know me, Emily?” He questioned her as his smile finally started to fade.
“No, I am sorry. You look familiar to me, but I can't place you at all. Did you take care of me in the emergency room?”
“Yes, I did take care of you but you don't remember me? At all?” He knew she had taken a good bump to the head but once her case was transferred over to neurology she was no longer his patient.
“No, I am sorry. I don't. Should I?”
His manner was relaxed, hinting that they had a pre-existing relationship, one deeper than that which should exist between a doctor and patient. Worse than that, she felt as though he expected some response from her that she was not giving. She reached for the call button, but before she could depress it, he captured her hand, dropped his knee to the bed and leaned in close to her.
She instantly wanted distance between them. Emily's heart raced as she struggled to pull back. Her back hit the hard hospital bed mattress. Something in his touch sparked a feeling in her mind, one that told her she should recognize him. She reached but the memory wasn't there. And though there were no negative feelings attached to receiving his advance, she was frightened by it.
“It hurts that you don't remember me. We spent some amazing years together. I need you. We need each other. I want to help you remember us, remember everything.” She retracted her hand. This gorgeous doctor was begging for her to remember him but all he did was inspire fear.
“Can you please leave Dr. Hart? You are frightening me.” Emily reached for the call button a second time praying the man wouldn't stop her again. He was a beautiful man but his desperation was beyond bone-chilling.
“There's no need to be afraid." he said, standing. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to— Look, I'll go. Don't call the nurse," he begged, backing away with his hands up in surrender. "I just... I just want our lives to go back to the way they were before the accident. I'm going. I'm going.” When he paused at the door she reached for the call button one last time.
“Just try to give me a call soon,” he added before disappearing. Her racing pulse began to slow, but the damage had already been done. She had broken out into an uncomfortable sweat with no time for reparation. She frantically ran to the bathroom and ran a brush through her hair. Whoever that doctor was, she did not want to see him again.
From the other side of the hospital room door she heard three small raps. She rushed from the bathroom and flopped onto the bed, bemoaning the force with which she did the flopping. Her body rattled with pain and she winced.
"Come in!" she called weakly, trying her best to look composed.
He entered with a caddy of shake cups and a bulging, brown bag. To her surprise, the food was not all he brought. He also carried a large beautiful arrangement of wild flowers in a sky blue decorative vase. Her breath hitched as she caught a view of them. She took them from him, smiling as her cheeks lit up. She lowered her nose to the blooms and inhaled deeply.
“Oh, Avery. Thank you! These are gorgeous and they smell amazing. You shouldn't have.” He set the food bag down on her tray. He worked quick, spreading a tablecloth over the small table and laying out two flowery paper plates. As he passed out the burgers and french fries, he had a thousand-watt smile on his face.
“You're welcome, Emily. I wanted to and that means I definitely had to,” he said smartly, chuckling. The southern twang in his comment made her
heart melt. Her name sounded so beautiful on his lips—those delicious-looking lips.
“A Butterfinger shake, though?” He set the cup down beside her plate then stuck a straw into it.
“Don't tell me you've never had a Butterfinger shake. They're amazing.” She laughed. “Here,” she said, raising the cup so the straw hovered in front of his mouth. “Try a sip.”
He puckered and lowered in for a sip. He hyperbolically turned his fingers over in the air as if to draw in its bouquet, closed his eyes, pretended to swish the liquid in his mouth as if he were tasting wine, then swallowed. She shook her head and chuckled.
“You're right. That is really good. But I am a regular chocolate kind of guy.” A soft smile crept across his face, more seductive than his previous grin.
“Thanks for this.” Emily said, unwrapping her burger. She dug in, taking a manly, monstrous bite and savoring all the flavors.
She closed her eyes, letting out a sensual satisfied moan as she chewed. “Mmm. God this is good!”
Avery couldn't help but stare at her slack-jawed. It had been so long since he had been with a woman, that the moan, regardless of its cause, had made his pants feel tighter. He shifted uncomfortably in an attempt to mask his stirring erection. He was grateful that she broke the silence.
“So Avery, have you lived in Daytona Beach your entire life?”
“No Ma'am. I was born and raised in Georgia, but I moved down here when I was about twenty. You?” He questioned as he took another bite of his burger.
“Born and raised in Ponce Inlet. My grand-papa used to be a stock-car racer down here. One of the original NASCARs.” Emily smiled in between bites, taking a moment to wipe the corners of her mouth with a napkin.
“NASCAR, huh? So, you're a race fan?” Avery took a big sip from his shake. She momentarily focused on his beautifully full lips once again, almost missing his question.
“Oh yeah! I go to all the races down here.” She grinned in her embarrassment. Conversation flowed as they finished.
“Oh, guess what. I get to go home tomorrow,” Emily mentioned.
“Awesome! Do you have a ride?” He couldn't deny that he hoped she'd say no.
“Unfortunately, yes. Ugh. My lovely brother-in-law is going to be picking me up." Sarcasm ran thick in her words. “The car was totaled, so I need a new one.” Emily lamented her Volkswagen with an audible sigh.
“You don't sound so excited about that, babe,” Avery said pursing his lips. She stopped chewing.
"Babe?" she asked.
"I'm sorry, did that offend you. It just came out—"
"I've just never been called that by anybody," she said, chuckling. The reality set in that this wasn't just dinner, it was a date and 'babe' was a term of endearment. Things were happening a little faster than she expected, but it felt good nonetheless.
He was relieved she wasn't offended. How had he let that slip?
“You're right," she continued the previous thread of conversation, "I'm not happy about getting a new car." He noted her sad tone. "It was a gift from my parents and it meant a lot to me." On that point she said no more, she brightened and shrugged her shoulders. "As far as my brother-in-law, we don't get along that great, but I'll have to make do since he's the only one available. It will just be my monthly quota of Ben.” She giggled. It was wishful thinking to believe she could avoid him.
“Whatever you do, get something bigger than that tiny death trap you were driving.” Avery said with a stern look on his face. “You were lucky, Emily.” His unmistakably stern tone sent chills up her spine. She believed him. More than before, she believed she really was lucky to have lived—lucky to have met him.
“Well, tiny or not, VWs are safe.” Emily tried to smile but could only conjure up a smirk.
“As long as it isn't another Beetle,” Avery teased.
"It'd be lame to buy the same car twice. Who does that?" She chuckled again but a sudden headache sent her hand flying to her head. She rubbed her temples, groaning. "I'm going to lay down. Sometimes sitting up for too long makes my head hurt."
"Definitely. Get comfortable," Avery said, gathering up the wrappers and garbage into the brown food bag. When he offered to throw away her milk-shake she hugged it, grinning.
"Over my dead body. I'm not done!" She laughed, laying her head on the pillows, relishing the feel of the mattress beneath her. He returned once the cleaning was done, taking the seat beside her bed as he had done earlier that day. They talked for what seemed like hours. Discussing everything from pets to their favorite songs. They bonded over their love for country music, especially Luke Bryan.
“I would shake it for Luke Bryan any day of the week,” Emily joked.
“How about for me? Or is this only an exclusive offer for Luke Bryan?” he said, not missing a beat. They both burst out laughing.
The further Emily thought about his words, the more she entertained the idea. Who in their right mind wouldn't want to shake it for Avery Martin?
“When I'm feeling a little better, I wouldn't mind shaking it for you," she said with a grin.
“Don't get my hopes up now,” he said, clenching his chest with both hands, mimicking a heart attack.
“Do I need to call a doctor?” Emily teased, pulling one of her pillows off the bed and tossing it in Avery's direction. He caught the pillow mid-air, threatening to chuck it back at her but not following through. He tossed it onto the bed beside her instead.
“I'm going to get you back for that,” he said, grinning.
If there was anything Avery and Emily had learned that evening, it was the fact that they easily got along. Conversation flowed easily, they could make each other laugh, and there was an abundance of sexual tension. They couldn't help but flirt and laugh with each other. No matter what one would say, the other would find a way to turn it into innuendo or a playful jab. To both, the attraction they had for each other was crystal-clear.
The night nurse poked her head in. Emily had joked calling her Nurse Cratchit, because no matter how polite you were to her, she was downright miserable. The rotund, older woman never smiled, her gray eyes were always sad and lonely. She moved slowly like the years had not been kind to her body. Her messy gray hair was loosely tied back into a bun on the back of her head with unruly split ends surrounding her face.
“Firefighter Martin, visiting hours were over two hours ago.” The nurse virtually growled out at him.
“I know, ma'am. I was hoping to stay until after you were finished. After that, I promise I will leave. Scout's honor,” he held up his arm and stood up straight. Emily tried desperately not to let out the laughter building in her chest.
The nurse shook her head, then went about her duties. She didn't acknowledge Avery at all as she took Emily's vital signs, checked her vision, and administered a plethora of medications. The entire time Emily stared at Avery instead of making eye contact with the wicked nurse.
“They will go over your discharge instructions with you in the morning, Miss Taylor,” the Nurse said as she made her way towards the door. “And you, Martin, I expect to see you walk out of this door momentarily, or so help me, boy.”
Their faces both flushed red from holding back their laughter as she waddled out of the room with her portable computer cart. When they were sure she was no longer in an ear shot, they let their contained laughter go, booming through the hospital room.
“I better leave before Crachit comes back and eats me for a midnight snack. Yikes!” Avery joked as he stood from his bedside spot. He rubbed his sweaty palms down his pant legs.
“Aw, and here I was having a good time,” Emily admitted without care.
“Well Miss Taylor—" he began.
"Emily. Please, call me Emily," she interrupted, "We've had dinner and we're friends now. No need to stand on formality," she said smiling.
"Right. Emily, then—I would love to see you again if you are up for it.” Avery nervously ran his fingers through his hair.
“I w
ould really like that," she said, maybe a little too eagerly.
Relieved, he took a step towards the hospital bed where she lay. He opened his arms and took her into a polite hug. As he started pulling away, Emily turned her face planting a single soft kiss on his cheek.
Neither of them could ignore the surge of passion between them. Desire pooled deep in Emily. His heart jumped into his throat. Neither of them let go. Neither looked away. Neither could think of letting go, only what to do next. She was blatantly offering her lips and he looked as though he might take the opportunity. But instead, he eased away and she let him go.
“G—goodnight,” he stammered. He took a deep breath and made a stiff beeline for the door, leaving her paralyzed. When the door clicked shut, she sighed and dropped against the mound of pillows.
"Good, God..." she said, finding it hard to breathe. "That man could potentially drive me crazy."
JUST A GIRL
Avery parked his silver, lifted F-150 into his usual parking spot. He yawned wide and hard, reminded of how little sleep he got after leaving Emily at the hospital the night before. Every time he'd begun drifting off to sleep, his mind would replay how close he had come to kissing her.
After taking a cold shower at two o'clock in the morning, he couldn't help but break down and take care of business. The simple thought of hugging her earlier in the evening, having her warm and soft body pressed up against his was enough to get the job done.
Exhausted, he faced a taxing, long day of work. The couch was going to be his best friend when he wasn't out running calls. Knowing my luck, I will be busy all damn day, he thought to himself while he climbed out of his truck.
A voice interrupted his thoughts from a distance. Tom came running up behind him. Avery had met his best friend in the fire academy, another displaced southern boy in the city. They'd bonded quickly. Though he stood at a short five feet nine inches, he was surprisingly strong. He had brown, buzz-cut hair and blue eyes that made all the girls drool. He was a ladies' man through-and-through.
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