by Iris Morland
You never knew what would happen in the ER on any given day. Some days, it was a ghost town, and then on other days, it was like the entire town decided to have a heart attack all at once.
"Room 125 needs a blood draw," Janine said as she handed Abby another chart. An LPN and one of Abby's favorite coworkers, Janine was no-nonsense and always worked hard. She wasn't squeamish, and she didn't complain when she had to change bed pans or clean up various bodily fluids.
"Thanks. What's the lowdown on this one? Possible undiagnosed diabetes?" Abby asked.
"Seems like it. He has all the symptoms: excessive urination and thirst plus the sweet-smelling urine."
Abby looked through the chart before tucking it under her arm. "Thanks. Hey, want to get lunch together today?"
"If we don't end up getting a hundred more people coming in here today, sure," Janine replied with a wry look.
After Abby had done the blood draw and sent it to the laboratory for further testing, she had to stifle a yawn. Her feet hurt, and she needed something to eat. She probably had time to snag something from the cafeteria—
"I need to get a prescription," she heard a gruff voice say only a few yards away. Then: "Can I talk to the nurse at least? Abby Davison? She attended me."
Janine nodded as Mark Thornton spoke in a pained voice, his expression grim and his skin pale. What was he doing here? Had he hurt his arm again?
"I heard my name," she said as she approached the pair. "I can take over from here,” she said to Janine. “I set his arm yesterday."
"I'll be down the hallway if you need me," Janine said before walking away.
"Have you re-injured yourself? You don't look good." Abby touched his forehead. No fever, which was a good sign. But a sheen of sweat covered his brow.
"No, my arm's fine." He winced. "I need that prescription again."
She raised her eyebrows. "Again? What happened to the first one?"
"I threw it away." He looked both defensive and embarrassed. She couldn't help but feel sympathetic toward this strong man who thought he could power through any pain by sheer force of will. Considering how he looked right this second, he wasn't doing too well.
She was about to scold him, but she bit her tongue. At least he'd come to his senses and accepted that he needed help.
"Here, sit down," she ordered, guiding him to a nearby chair. "How much pain are you in on a scale of one to ten?"
"Eight point five, I guess."
"Let me find the attending physician so he can write you a new script. And then you'll actually get it filled this time?"
He nodded, grimacing. "That's why I'm here."
Abby explained the situation to Dr. Smythe, who was wary about giving out another prescription for pain medication.
"Tell this patient of yours that he's lucky we were able to get him a new prescription so quickly. We can't exactly hand out narcotics like candy,” Dr. Smythe said.
Abby nodded. "Thanks for this."
She returned to Mark, but before she gave him the prescription, she said, "Do you want someone to call this in now? What pharmacy do you use?"
He looked dismayed by the question; Abby had a feeling Mark very rarely went to the doctor or pharmacy. Getting Janine, Abby had her find the nearest pharmacy to fill the prescription.
Abby sat down next to Mark after explaining the situation to Janine. "Can you drive home? You shouldn't drive after taking Vicodin."
He rose from his chair, frowning down at her. "I'll be fine. Thanks for getting this done so fast."
"Of course. It's my job."
Abby wondered, not for the first time, why this man had demanded that she come stay with him. Was he lonely? She couldn't help but feel for him if that were the case. Lately, she had felt lonely too, like she was adrift with no one to throw her a rope to pull her back onto dry land.
Although acting like Mark, of all people, would be the one to throw her a rope would be ridiculous. He'd persuaded her to play housekeeper to keep her secret, hadn't he? Any man capable of that kind of manipulation was one she should stay clear of.
She wanted to ask him why he'd done it, why her, why now? She wanted to talk about what he expected her to do when she showed up on Saturday. Would he broadcast her little white lie to everyone in Fair Haven if she didn't show?
"Abby..." he said in a low voice. "I wanted to talk to you, actually—"
"Abby! There you are!"
She turned to see her ex-boyfriend, Derek striding toward her, like they were old friends running into each other.
What is it with these people showing up at my job? she thought miserably.
Derek looked handsome and happy, although Abby couldn't help but notice that he'd gained a little weight around the middle. He hadn't gotten new pants yet, and she wondered how much longer his belt would last before it finally gave out from the strain.
Derek was good-looking, but nothing above average, either. He was about five-eight, which he was sometimes self-conscious about. His best feature was his eyes—a light blue—but otherwise, he wasn't the type of person one found particularly arresting or memorable.
Not like Mark Thornton, with his dark eyes, his stormy features, his gruffness and broad shoulders. Mark was the type of man that you couldn't forget, and seeing the two men side by side, Abby couldn't help but compare them.
"What are you doing here, Derek?" she asked her ex, trying not to wonder what Mark's reaction was to this little scene.
"You look good, Abby. How are you?"
She was nonplussed and a bit irritated. She hadn't heard from Derek in the year since their break-up, and now he showed up at her work like this?
Derek embraced her. She stood stiffly, patting his shoulder before pulling away. When he placed a hand on her arm, she gritted her teeth. The only reason she didn't slap his hand away was because she didn't want to make a scene for the insatiable grapevine that was hospital gossip.
"I'm good. Busy. I need to get back to work here in a second.”
"Oh, I know how busy you get." Derek winked at her—winked! "But I thought I could take you to lunch today. I've wanted to see you for a while now." His voice lowered. "Can we talk?"
She opened her mouth to tell him hell no, when Mark cleared his throat.
"This is Mark Thornton," she said. "This is Derek Barry. My ex-boyfriend," she made sure to add, so Derek didn't try anything stupid, like say they were still together.
Derek's eyes creased in annoyance at that dig, but he shook Mark's hand. "And how do you two know each other?"
Before Abby could respond, Mark said in his deep voice, "Abby and I are dating. She's my girlfriend."
Mark hadn't planned to say those words aloud. In fact, he'd come to the hospital not only to get another prescription, but to tell Abby that their deal was off. He'd been out of his mind yesterday.
Now, though, he wanted to rub their fake relationship in her ex's smarmy face. The way he kept trying to touch Abby when she didn't want him to? How he smiled at her in that condescending way?
Mark wanted to rearrange the asshole's face right there in the hospital lobby.
Abby stilled beside him; she looked confused and shocked. But to his relief, she didn't contradict him.
And God only knew how satisfying it was to see the look of dejection on her ex's face right then.
"I didn't know you were dating somebody," Derek said. He frowned. "How long have you been together?"
Mark was about to tell him to shove off when Abby replied, "Not long. Now, I need to get back to work." She touched Mark's arm, and the brief sensation of her fingers on his skin was enough to set him ablaze. "Can you get home all right?" she murmured.
He swallowed. "Yeah."
"Then I'll see you this weekend."
His gaze fell on her lips, his heart starting to pound. The world faded away in that moment. Before he could consider his actions, he leaned down to kiss her.
She didn't pull away, thank God. He brushed his lips across h
ers—a mere touch—and then he pulled away. But that simple kiss, close-mouthed and sedate, set his blood boiling. He watched as a flush crawled up Abby's cheeks, which only filled him with satisfaction.
"Bye, Abby," he rumbled. He narrowed his eyes at Derek: a silent threat.
Mess with her, and you'll deal with me.
4
Mark had never had a woman over. Well, not at his ranch. Things with Tina had ended as he was starting the ranch, and he'd never wanted to bring any woman back with him.
Any encounters he had were in town, or on the road for business. Nothing serious, only casual. Most were one-night stands that had no expectations beyond mutual pleasure and a farewell in the morning.
Waking up right as dawn peeked over the horizon, Mark had wondered what the hell he'd gotten himself into. And how did you prepare for a woman staying at your place anyway?
He had a guest room, but no one had used it. He frowned when he realized the room smelled stale. He opened a window, changed the sheets and comforter, and then winced when he saw how bare the room was.
"Jesus Christ, this isn't a hotel," he muttered to himself.
Abby would have her own bathroom as well, which was also rarely used. He placed clean towels and toilet paper inside the cabinets, wondered for a moment about soap (didn't women have lots of different kinds of soaps?), and decided to call it a day.
If Charlie could see him now, he'd never live it down.
He didn't know when Abby would arrive, except she'd said some time Saturday morning. He realized he hadn't gotten her number. He'd need to rectify that immediately.
After his trip to the hospital, he'd picked up his painkillers, driven home, and promptly collapsed in a haze of pain meds and exhaustion. He'd told himself he was twenty times a fool for saying that they were dating to make her ex-boyfriend mad. The news that they were dating would get all over town before the week was out.
He should tell Abby the deal was off. Nobody had signed a contract. But he had a feeling if her ex discovered the relationship was a ploy, he'd be out for blood. If this lie protected Abby, so be it.
This was what he told his conscience as he stepped outside for his usual morning routine. Charlie didn't work weekends, for which he was grateful. He didn't need his ranch hand giving him looks that only proved that Mark was a total fool.
It was a beautiful fall day: crisp and clear, the leaves had already changed to colors of deep red and orange. They crunched under his boots as he made his way to the horse barn. He inhaled the sweet scent of hay.
Mark currently owned three horses, including the apple of his eye, Delilah. Delilah neighed in greeting when he came to her stall, sticking her nose out and demanding her morning nose rub.
"How's my girl?" Mark asked as he stroked the horse's velvety nose. He saw a ripple of movement inside her large, pregnant belly. Delilah was due to deliver within two months, if not sooner, and she was at the point in her pregnancy where she was getting uncomfortable.
Mark entered her stall, giving her one last nose rub before he stroked his hands down her sides. The foal inside her moved, and he could make out hooves pressing against her sides. Delilah snorted.
"I know. You're ready to have this over with, aren't you? I am, too. You've been pregnant forever."
Delilah seemed to nod in agreement. Horse gestation was longer than a human's—closer to a year rather than nine months—and Mark couldn't wait to meet this foal. He also missed being able to ride Delilah. He took her for walks around the enclosure, but it wasn't the same as riding her around his property.
After feeding and watering Delilah, he did the same for the two other horses: a young gelding named Samson and another mare named Rosemary.
He then fed and watered the goats, a rowdy bunch who always tried to munch on his pant legs. Goat's milk was in high demand, and Mark had reckoned he could make some nice extra cash by raising a few goats.
He also had about a dozen hens that provided regular eggs. Despite his brothers' teasing, he didn't own any pigs—yet. He wouldn't count out any animal that could bring in revenue.
Mark loved this time of day, when he worked with the animals and nobody bothered him. Ranch life suited him more than city life. Although Fair Haven wasn't exactly a metropolis, it still had too many people for Mark's liking. Things were simpler here. He understood horses and chickens and goats.
People, though? They tended to be a conundrum.
It took him longer to do his usual chores with his broken arm, and he grunted and swore when he had to figure out how to do something one-handed. Things like getting a bag of feed open, or carrying something and opening a door at the same time.
By the time he finished, it was close to lunch. Abby hadn't yet arrived.
Was she not going to come at all? His gut twisted in disappointment, and then he told himself he was an idiot. What did you think would happen? She'd come and stay with you forever?
But his disappointment cleared when he heard a car driving down the dirt road, a car he knew was Abby's. She parked outside his house right as he approached.
"I wondered if you were coming at all," he said as she opened her car door.
He'd never seen her wearing anything but scrubs, so seeing her in jeans and a sweater seemed strange. Her hair was in some complicated braid around her head. She looked fresh and young. Pretty, if he were honest.
"Sorry, took me longer than I thought." She opened the back seat and handed him a pet carrier. Something inside yowled in protest. "Where should I put the cats?"
Cats. He'd forgotten about the cats. Didn't cats live outside? But Abby was carrying the other cat inside, so he had to assume that she wanted them to stay indoors. He frowned down at the yowling creature.
"Let me show you to your room," he said.
He couldn't see her face now, but she hadn't seemed nervous getting out of her car. Did she regret agreeing to this? Did he? He didn't know anymore. All he knew was that the thought of her not coming at all had filled him with disappointment.
Mark's house was the complete opposite of his parents' mansion, which he'd done on purpose. While his parents' place was ornate and palatial, his place was open and simple in comparison. Large windows let in lots of natural light, and the furniture was all warm earth tones. He'd wanted a house that was comfortable, not imposing.
"Nice place," Abby said, craning her head to take it all in. "It's very...bright."
"What, did you think I lived in a cave?" he asked wryly.
She grinned at him. "Maybe. You definitely growl like a bear."
He grunted as he led her into her room.
"I'll get the cats settled," she said. "They prefer to be in one room for a bit until they calm down."
She opened one carrier door, and a tentative paw reached out. Then a black cat emerged, its ears flattened, its body low to the ground. The other cat refused to leave its carrier. When Mark looked inside, he saw another black cat.
"How can you tell them apart?" he asked.
"The one who came out—Wentworth—has a patch of white on his chest. Darcy doesn't."
"Huh."
He wished he were more of a conversationalist. To his surprise, he wished his older brothers were here. Harrison always knew what to say, while Caleb could make people laugh with his droll one-liners. Even having Jubilee here would be better than this awkward silence, with her incessant chatter and questions. But Mark had never been good at small talk.
Thanks for coming to stay at my place after I bullied you into coming? Yeah, that'll work.
"I'll let you unpack," he said before leaving the room.
When Abby had driven up and seen Mark standing out in the sun, she'd shivered. Not because she'd been afraid, but because she was...what? Excited? She didn't know how to feel about all of this, if she were honest.
It was such a strange arrangement, something out of a movie. She kept waiting for someone to pop out of the bushes and yell that it was a prank for some reality show.
> She took in the house as Mark led her to her room. She truly hadn't expected a house that was so...normal. She'd almost expected turrets and barricades, a true castle for a beastly man.
This house was full of light, the furniture neither gaudy nor overly plain. She couldn't help but notice that there weren't a lot of personal touches, though. Where was Mark in this house? The knickknacks, the photos, the magazines and books?
Mark took her bags inside without saying anything, which gave her a chance to take in his firm backside. He looked very good in those jeans he wore. With that stubble on his jaw and his gruff demeanor, he reminded her of an outlaw from the Wild West.
She desperately wanted to ask him why he'd made her come here. If not for sex, then what? Companionship? Was he that lonely?
She remembered that kiss yesterday, and her body tingled. Although she'd told him no touching, that declaration had disappeared the moment his lips had touched hers. Had she been the only one to feel the spark between them as their lips brushed, though? She didn't think so.
He'd done it to rile Derek, she told herself. This is all for show. Don't get sucked into something that isn't real.
She smiled to see both cats already sitting on the windowsill in her new bedroom.
She stroked Darcy's head. "Do you think you'll be happy here?" she asked them both. Darcy purred while Wentworth butted her hand. "Please don't rip up the toilet paper, or puke a hairball on Mark's bed, or rip up any furniture, okay?"
The cats swished their tails, not making any promises.
She heard footsteps, and turning to see Mark standing in the doorway, she had to bite back a smile at how awkward he looked. She shouldn't find this as amusing as she did. If she were smart, she'd drive home and not look back.
Abby couldn't help but consider this as an adventure. He was paying her, and although her nursing job paid the bills, any extra cash was welcome.
"I kind of feel like Belle in Beauty and the Beast," she remarked. "I almost expected the wardrobe to talk to me, or for a candlestick to start dancing."
"I've never seen that movie."