“More’s the pity.” Her father gave a dismissive snort. “Boundaries are your downfall.”
“And your ego is yours.” Jake glared at Roger Flynn, a muscle ticking near his tense jaw. “You don’t have any compassion for anyone, do you?”
“I’m the top trauma surgeon in the world, Dr. Ryder. Compassion is a luxury I can’t afford. In my world respect must be earned—as my daughter can attest.”
Molly’s heart plummeted. She could attest all too well to his stringent demands and lofty ideals, which she had never attained. She’d failed him again and again, always falling short of his impossibly high standards, of his dreams for what he’d wanted in a daughter. As an adult, she should be past caring, but it still stung.
Beneath the table, Jake took her hand. Molly hazarded a glance over at him, expecting to see a defeated man, scraped raw from her father’s scathing insults. Instead Jake gave her a small half-grin and squeezed her fingers tight.
Confused, she started to whisper, “I’m—”
“I’m going to start keeping count of those apologies, Bolt. A few more and before long you’re going to owe me more than you can ever repay.” His grin widened. “Now, eat up.”
Stunned, Molly continued to nibble on her salad. Brian had always cowered before her father’s bully tactics. But Jake? Well, he hadn’t backed down an inch. He’d defended her.
No one had ever chosen Molly’s side before.
The waiter removed their salad plates and replaced them with heaping portions of pot roast and grilled vegetables. The delicious sweet smell of tomatoes and carrots mixed with the rich aroma of braised beef had Molly’s appetite returning.
She was about to dig in when her phone buzzed from inside her evening bag and her pulse tripped. She was expecting lab results on Bobby.
“Excuse me a moment.”
Molly walked back into the living room, pulling out her phone and hitting redial as she wandered toward the windows. In the valley below the lights of Anchorage sparkled like diamonds, and she could almost picture herself building a new life in this rugged place...raising a family, making a real home here with Jake...
A technician answered, putting an abrupt end to her daydreams.
“Lab.”
“Yes, this is Dr. Flynn. I got a message that my patient’s results are in.”
“Yes. Hang on a moment, please.”
“What’s going on?”
Jake came up behind her, the heat of him surrounding her. She held up a finger as the technician returned to the line.
“Dr. Flynn, Bobby Templeton’s BUN and creatinine levels are rising. You said to call with any changes.”
“Yes. Thank you.” She ended the call, then dialed Gladys’s extension. “How’s Bobby?” she asked.
As Molly waited for the nurse to pull his records she turned to Jake.
“Hospital calling with results.”
“Any change?”
Gladys came back on the line. “Mr. Templeton’s lung function is deteriorating, his fever’s back, and that rash on his legs is spreading to his torso.”
“Damn,” Molly said.
“What?” Jake moved closer, his hand returning to her lower back.
She rubbed her temple as she relayed to him what she’d found out. “I’m afraid your treatment plan isn’t working.”
Roger Flynn had walked into the room as well, and was giving them both a disparaging stare. “I told you. Conservative methods won’t yield—”
“Please, shut up!” Molly said before she could stop herself.
Eyes wide, she snapped her mouth closed. Before tonight she’d never had the gumption to talk back to her father. Perhaps Jake’s attitude was rubbing off.
“How dare you—?”
“The lady said shut up!” Jake growled, cutting her father off again.
Molly finished with Gladys, then faced Jake. “What’s your diagnosis?”
“Metabolic disorder?”
Jake looked as agitated as she felt, but Dr. Dave had been right. They did work better as a team. The rest of the room disappeared as they brainstormed ideas.
“Something genetic—mitochondrial, maybe?”
“Perhaps we should try my protocol? The hyperbaric chamber would force more oxygen into his blood, helping him to heal faster.”
“No. I’m sorry, Bolt, but I stand by my decision. We need to avoid any treatments that could put Bobby’s future career as an athlete at risk. Nothing wacky.”
“Wacky?” After dealing with her father tonight, the word hit a bit too close to all the old insults that had been hurled her way as a kid.
“She’s very smart, but a bit of a wacky mess when it comes to her social skills,” her father had used to joke to his colleagues.
She stepped away from Jake, frowning. “There’s nothing wrong with using a hyperbaric chamber.”
“It’s a bit unorthodox—even you admit that. I prefer the tried and true.”
He reached for her hand again, his expression imploring, but she pulled away.
Jake’s smile fell. “C’mon, Molly. I’ve seen your show. ‘Unorthodox’ doesn’t begin to cover your treatment methods. If I allowed you free rein we’d have Bobby strung up by his toes with a voodoo priestess dancing around his room.”
Snickers rang out around the room—including from her father.
Gone was the warm, fuzzy comfort she’d felt with Jake earlier. Now Molly felt only exposed, raw to the bone—the same way she had during those dreaded performances for her father as a child.
She stalked away from Jake, with her father’s vexed glare forever burning in her mind. Coming here tonight had been a mistake. Inviting Jake as her date had been even worse. She’d opened up to him, let him see her most vulnerable side—had begun to think of him as her partner in this case, maybe more. She’d thought he was different...that maybe he might see past her flaws and care for her anyway.
But she’d been wrong.
Eyes stinging, Molly rushed toward the foyer. All she wanted to do was get back to Anchorage Mercy—back to her comfort zone, back to the one place where she felt competent and successful.
Ignoring the inquiring looks of the other guests, who’d filed into the living room to see what all the commotion was about, Molly yanked her coat from the closet. “Thank you for the lovely dinner, Dr. Dave... Sara. I’m going back to the hospital to take care of my patient. I’ll do my best not to try anything wacky while you’re gone, Dr. Ryder.”
* * *
Jake made his own quick farewells, then stormed after Molly toward her Range Rover. “Mind telling me what just happened?”
“Yes, actually.” The lights on the vehicle flickered as she jabbed a button on her key fob. “I do.”
Pulling open the passenger side door, Jake climbed into the seat, barely managing to get the door closed again before Molly revved the engine and took off down the long, winding driveway. He’d been in bombing raids friendlier than the vibe he was getting from her at this point—though her stress was understandable. Her father was a complete ass.
Still, Jake thought they’d handled things well tonight. He’d had her back—would’ve protected Molly against Roger Flynn or any other blowhard in that room. Bobby’s case had brought them together, but tonight had made them a team. At least that was how he’d felt. He’d even found himself, against all odds, trusting her. More than he had anyone else in a long time.
The tension around her mouth now and the paleness of her cheeks bothered him, though. Hoping to regain some solidarity, he said, “Boy, your dad’s a piece of work.”
Molly swerved out onto the main road, tires squealing. “I don’t want to discuss him.”
“Pull over and let me drive.” Jake gripped the dashboard as she passed another vehicle, switching lanes without signaling. “Please.”
“What’s the matter?” Molly glanced over at him and ran up onto the berm, bumping noisily before she merged onto the Seward Highway heading toward Anchorage Mercy, a wild spark in her eyes. “Afraid I’ll go all wacky on you?”
“If this vehicle being wrapped around a utility pole is your idea of wacky, then, yeah.”
“My driving skills are exemplary, thank you very much.” Molly gripped the wheel tight, her fingers tapping out a rapid cadence. “Many more men than women die each year in motor vehicle crashes. Men typically drive more miles and engage in more risky driving practices, including not using safety belts and operating a vehicle while intoxicated.”
“Speaking of alcohol—how much wine did you have?”
“A few sips.” She gave him a withering stare. “But don’t you prefer girls who drink pale ale?”
He sat back, exasperated. “Since when do you care what kinds of girls I prefer?”
“I didn’t say I cared. I just—”
“What? Feel like prying into my private life?” Furious, he turned away. “Typical media.”
“And we’re rehashing that again.” Molly jammed on the brakes as they approached a red light, screeching to an undignified halt. “Is that all you’ve got? Boo-hoo. The big, bad media’s out to get me.”
“You’re one to talk. What was all that kowtowing to your dad in there, huh? What are you? His slave? No, wait. His irritatingly intelligent fact-spouter? Does he rent you out for parties?”
The angry flush in Molly’s cheeks drained away and she lowered her gaze, her stiff posture slumping.
Remorse clunked heavily in Jake’s chest. He’d gone too far. But damn if she hadn’t pushed all his buttons. Part of him wanted to get out of the vehicle and call a taxi. The other part of him wanted to pull Molly into his lap and kiss her until they both forgot about this disaster of a night—forgot about everything except the incredible chemistry between them.
The car behind them honked. The light had turned green.
Molly accelerated—slower this time. They traveled on in silence for several minutes, until she said quietly, “Why don’t you like the media? The truth.”
He sighed. “I received an honorable discharge in August 2011. The following February they awarded me and Bobby Distinguished Service Crosses for extraordinary heroism on the battlefield in Kandahar. With the stress of trying to assimilate back into civilian life with my ex and my new job at Anchorage Mercy, the added pressure the media put on our relationship was the final straw. The fact Kellie was infatuated with all the attention didn’t help. Between my need for privacy and her need for the spotlight, it finally tore us apart.”
“Oh.” She looked at him, her eyes sad in the greenish glow of the dashboard. “I’m sorry.”
“Didn’t we agree you wouldn’t say that anymore, Bolt?” He flashed her a half-hearted smile, then stared out his window at the lights of his Alaskan hometown. “Anyway, by the end I’d become isolated, and protective of my privacy. Kellie blamed me for all her problems and said I was holding her back. She ended up moving to New York for some big network job without even discussing it with me. The press had a field-day with that too, by the way. And I was totally blindsided by Kellie leaving. I’d trusted her. I’d thought the war had done a number on me, but I was wrong. Kellie’s betrayal and those reporters screwed me up a hell of a lot worse.”
“Yes, I can understand your resentment now.” Molly concentrated on the road ahead, her expression contemplative.
“Tell me why you let your father treat you the way he does,” he said, turning the tables.
“That’s the way it’s always been.”
“Doesn’t make it right.”
“No.” She shrugged. “But it makes things easier. His bullying only gets worse if I fight back or try to defend myself. I’m different than the rest of my family.”
“How so?”
“Well, let’s see... My mother is a socialite extraordinaire. My older sister is a junior Martha Stewart on steroids. And you’ve just experienced Superstar Roger Flynn, able to do amazing feats of surgery with a single bound.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What’s your special power? Besides the whole genius thing.”
“That’s pretty much all I’ve got.” Molly gave a sad little snort. “That’s why I’m such a big disappointment. I’m not beautiful. I’m hopeless in social situations. And I’m definitely not the kind of daughter Roger Flynn thinks he deserves. But my intellect’s given me many opportunities, so I can’t complain.”
“Sure you can.” Jake swallowed hard against the lump of remorse in his throat. “And I’m sorry for calling your methods wacky back there. I understand now why that touched a nerve.”
She acknowledged his apology with a single nod.
The tension in the air lifted and Jake couldn’t resist stealing another glance at her. It astonished him that Molly thought she wasn’t beautiful. She was quite possible the most exquisite thing he’d ever seen.
At last they turned in to the Anchorage Mercy parking lot and Molly pulled up beside Jake’s truck. They walked inside the hospital, heading for the elevators.
Molly punched the buttons, then took out her phone, frowning. “Is Bobby a heavy drinker or involved in any illicit drug use?”
“No. He’s the biggest health nut I’ve ever met. You read the list of his supplements, right?”
“I did...”
The elevator dinged and they stepped onboard. Jake leaned a shoulder against the wall while Molly scrolled through the texts on her phone screen.
“None of them explain all his symptoms, though.”
Dread pooled thick and heavy in his gut. “We have to do something. I can’t lose him. He saved my life back in the desert. That’s why he got his commendation.”
They arrived on the fourth floor and walked over to Gladys’s desk.
“Any more changes since we talked?” Molly asked.
“How was the party?” Rob said, coming down the hall toward them, Neal by his side. “Any juicy tidbits?”
Molly shook her head, casting Jake a quick glance before answering. “Nope.”
“Too bad,” Neal said. “Network says we need more sizzle.”
“This is a medical show, not TMZ.” Molly pushed past her crew and grabbed her lab coat.
Jake thought it was a shame she had to cover up the outfit, but he could see how it might be distracting, the way it hugged her curves in all the right places. Then again, he found just about everything about Molly distracting these days.
“Dr. Ryder,” she said. “Can I see you in my office a moment, please?”
“Uh...sure.” He followed her into the tiny shoebox they’d given her to use.
Molly closed the door and they were alone again. It would be so easy to lean in, to kiss her deeply, to show her she was more than her smarts, more than Diagnosis Critical, more than perfect enough for him.
Molly moved past Jake to grab her stethoscope and it took every shred of his inner strength not to pull her against him. She wore her hair loose tonight, and he remembered the feel of it when she’d leaned against him at Dr. Dave’s house, all silky and soft. Making him imagine how he’d like to clutch those thick strands in his hands as he lost himself inside her.
As if sensing the erotic turn of his thoughts, Molly stepped back, her eyes glittering a bit too bright. “I know we agreed I wouldn’t, but I want to make one final apology about what happened tonight.”
“Accepted.” Jake shuffled his feet. “I’m sorry too.”
“For what?”
“For your father being a selfish, insufferable bastard.”
“Oh, well.” She frowned down at the floor. “We Flynns aren’t exactly a model family.”
He tipped her chin up with his finger. “You deserve
better, Molly.”
“Um... I’ve...uh...been thinking about doing some sightseeing while I’m here.”
Her voice trailed off, and her cheeks were blazing so red Jake could practically feel the heat pulsing off them. She tended to ramble when she was nervous or scared. One more endearing thing about his Molly.
His Molly?
His mind snagged on that thought. “I’d be happy to show you around. When’s your next day off?”
“Day after tomorrow. I thought I’d book a whale-watching cruise.”
“I’m off then too.” He smiled. “Let’s do it.”
She grinned back. “All right.”
“All right.”
Molly held his gaze for several moments, and the air between them vibrated with delicious possibilities.
She smoothed a hand down the front of her lab coat and gave a slight nod. “Great. Okay. Back to work. We’re thinking some type of metabolic disorder?”
It took a second for the abrupt switch in topic to penetrate the fog of desire clouding Jake’s brain. “Uh...yeah, I don’t see what else it could be, given Bobby’s history.”
“Right.” Molly yanked open the door and walked back to Gladys’s desk, where she pushed aside the tray with a small teapot and a mug of brown gunk sitting on the counter and opened the patient’s file. “Jake, look at these labs to make sure I’m not missing something.”
Forgetting about the cameras rolling, he did as she requested, his nose wrinkling at the foul stench. “Jeez, Gladys. What’s that crap you’re drinking? Smells like dead rat.”
“That’s not mine.” The nurse grimaced. “It’s Bobby’s tea. His hockey coach brings him in a batch whenever he visits. Nothing except herbs and water, but it stinks to high heaven.”
Molly paused and picked up the mug, sniffing it. “Is there a box this comes in?”
“Yep.” Gladys walked over to one of the trash bags awaiting pick-up and pulled out a torn foil packet. “Here.”
“Yohimbe.” Molly looked from the packet to Jake. “One of five pausinystalia evergreen species growing in West and Central Africa in lowland forests. The side effects include high blood pressure, increased heart-rate, headache, nausea, tremors and sleeplessness.” She turned to Gladys again. “How often has Mr. Templeton been drinking this?”
One Night with the Army Doc Page 10