by JA Lafrance
“What happened, Faith? Jesse’s play starts in an hour, I’ll barely make it.” She’s referring to her ten-year-old son’s holiday showcase at his school. The one she’d asked me to come in for to cover her shift.
I raise my hands in surrender. “I know. I’m so sorry. Yes, it was my car again, it wouldn’t start. I had to stick the thingy in the choke-thingy again like that YouTube video said to do.”
Mare rolls her eyes. “I told you, take that rustbucket of a so-called car over to Second Chance. They’re great. I’m sure my guy would have it in and out,” Mare says, referring to my classic (despite her opinion) 1985 Ford Fiesta Mk2, while wrapping a pretty pink-and-grey knitted scarf around her neck and slipping her arms into a grey, parka-like coat. A coat she’ll definitely need. It’s cold out there, and I’d know, too. I’d had to stand outside for twenty-five minutes trying to get my damned clunker of a car going.
“I know.” I tuck a piece of my lightly-coloured lavender hair behind my ear. “I’ve been working so much, picking up all the shifts I can to prove I deserve to be hired full-time, I barely have time to get groceries and sleep, let alone get my car fixed.”
“Well, you can’t get full-time if you start missing shifts because your car finally craps out for good, now can you?” Mare quips, and I nod.
“Touché,” I relent. I guess I could call and see about dropping it off one morning before shift? Still. That’s sleep time. “But, Mare, you know the holidays are the busiest time for me here. Everyone wants time off at Christmas,” I muse, as I try to figure out a time that might work in my head.
“Still. You need it fixed. This is the fifth time this month,” she says, walking to the elevators.
“Okay, okay. I’ll call first thing tomorrow.”
“Good. You’d better,” she calls over her shoulder, as she steps into the waiting elevator.
“Yeah, yeah.” I wave. “Tell Jesse to break a leg for me!” She gives me a thumbs up as the elevator door closes.
***
It’s just after 7:30 p.m., and I’m back in the ER after having had my break. Walking to the nurses’ station, I see Dr. Driver looking a little overwhelmed with four charts in her hand. Looking up, her eyes meet mine and she smiles. “Faith, thank goodness you’re back. I need you. I’m in sutures hell here! And I still have six patients to see. Help me, help me.” She laughs, looking down at the charts.
As a nurse, I love my job. I love working here, especially. We’re a cohesive unit, and over the years, and after working in different hospitals, Perth and Smiths is by far the best. The doctors here appreciate us. They treat us like partners. Trust us to actually help like we’re trained to. There isn’t a huge divide between species like in some hospitals I’ve worked. Some places, you’d swear nurses were simply worker ants, taking orders from the queen.
I smile back. “At your service, Karen. What do you need from me?” I ask, quickly storing my bag behind the work station.
Releasing a relieved breath, she hands me a chart. “First. Curtain Three needs at least ten stitches in his right hand. Nasty gash. See if he wants something stronger than Tylenol, too.”
“Got it,” I say.
She hands me a second chart. “Curtain Five, I think you can just glue it. Little girl, three years old. Starred in a battle of forehead vs. bed. Sadly, the corner of the bed won. Nice laceration across the forehead.”
“Poor kid,” I say, looking at the chart notes.
“Little cutie, too,” Karen smiles.
“I’ll assess and see what will work best on it. Aim for no scarring.”
“Perfect. You’re a lifesaver. I’ll catch you in a few, and update you on the rest,” she says, as she picks up another few charts and pops in behind Curtain Two.
Chapter 3
Faith
“Hi,” I say, opening the curtain, “I’m Nurse…” I stop dead in my tracks.
Um, I think Karen forgot an important detail when going over what was behind Curtain Three. Sure, she chose to mention the cutie behind Curtain Five, but nothing about what would be waiting for me behind Three?
Not a word.
Is she blind?
“I’m going to kill her,” I mutter, as I work to regain my composure.
Hello, Mr. Deathly Attractive.
“Mr. McKidd,” I say, shifting closer to where Mr. Make-Me-Lose-My-Breath sits holding his right hand in his left.
“Is that duct tape?” I ask, sounding a little breathless. Probably because this guy is so freaking pretty I can barely think. I can hear him talking, but I can’t seem to hear a thing over my own thoughts.
Am I sweating?
A deep chuckle has my gaze shifting back to his face.
His super-duper handsome face.
Dark eyes.
Strong jaw.
Stubble, which I bet feels incredible between the…never mind.
Firm-looking lips.
Nice white teeth.
All topped off with that smile. A smile that makes you smile even when you’re not feeling too smiley. The sexiest type of smile there ever was.
“Are you with me, nurse?”
“Huh?” I think I might be stroking out. When was the last time I blinked?
Oh god, I’m staring. I’m silent, staring, mute. No wonder I can’t get a full-time job.
“Do you want to sit down? Are you alright?” He laughs again, clearly amused. And that’s when I notice his smile again. It’s not only perfect, it’s devilish. Like he knows the effect he has on women.
This guy knows he’s stupid handsome.
Shit. I shake my head. The last thing I have time for is Mr. Panty-Melter invading my space, in my mind or in real life. “I am so sorry. I’m Nurse Hayes. Let’s check you out,” I say, immediately regretting it.
Smirking sexy bastard.
Chapter 4
Chance
“My apologies. I’m nurse Hayes. Let’s check you out.”
I think you already did.
I bite my tongue so I won’t say the words out loud to the gorgeous woman standing in front of me. Her lush, shoulder-length hair is coloured a pretty shade of lilac, and she has beautiful pale-blue eyes that can’t seem to stop themselves from roaming me over. Her plush lips have me curious to know exactly what they taste like.
I keep my mouth shut from saying anything that might piss off the woman who’s about to stab me repeatedly with a needle.
I clear my throat. “Thanks, made a dumbass move at work,” I share, and she smirks.
“Was that using duct tape instead of a first aid kit?” She cocks her head and a piece of hair falls over her right eye. It takes everything I have not to move it from messing up my full view of her beautiful face. Thankfully, she moves it for me.
“Funny.” I meet her gaze, and gift her a smile from my arsenal. I shrug, “Had a job to finish before I could get here. Did what I had to do.”
“Ahh, a true hero, I see,” Nurse Hayes says as she starts unpacking the tools she’ll need. She pulls up a small table and nods for me to place my arm on it. “Now, let’s get a better look here, shall we?”
If only she knew how much I was already enjoying the view.
Chapter 5
Chance
“Did you ever think we’d see the day?” I ask my pops as we look out the living room window of my family’s home in Smiths Falls watching my brother, Trevor, as he walks around to the passenger side door of his black Charger and opens it.
For a girl.
“Nope,” Pops grins, shaking his head. “Was bound to happen, though,” he adds, taking a drink from a green bottle of Moosehead.
“Whaddaya mean?” I ask, reaching for my own beer.
“Always seems to happen when you aren’t looking for it.”
“Manners?” I bark out a laugh. I’ve never seen Trevor be chivalrous, ever.
“Love, son.” Pops holds his bottle up in salute.
“No way. You think NHL’s star player is in love?”
<
br /> “That Harvest does something to your brother, Chance. Not only is he in love, he’s found his other half in that girl. He just doesn’t know it yet.” He goes to take another swig.
Plucking the bottle out of my dad’s hand, I hold it up to the light and begin to analyze it, sploshing it around in circles to get a better view.
“Have you lost your damn mind? Gimme that!” Pops reaches for his beer, giving me a quick swat on the head.
“Hey!”
“Never mess with a man’s beer. Have I taught you nothing?” My dad gives me a grin. “What the hell were you looking for anyway?”
“Drugs,” I deadpan.
“Har har. Mark my words. Love always comes and bites you when you least expect it, Chance.”
“Sure it does, Pops.” I stand, shifting my way into the kitchen.
“Where you headed?”
“Making you a coffee. We gotta sober your ass up before family dinner.”
“Just you wait, son. Just you wait.”
Why do I feel like I’ve just been cursed by my old man?
More importantly, why did an image of that sexy Nurse Hayes flash before my eyes?
Chapter 6
Faith
“Shit, shit, shit. Mare, I’m sorry I’m late again.” I cringe as I make it to the nurses’ station, late for the second time in two days.
I never did call the mechanic, despite Mare’s insistence.
“That’s it. I’m calling my guy,” she says. “You cannot be late again. Doctor Strickland was just here asking where you were.” My face falls hearing the chief of the ER was looking for me.
Mare raises her hand. “Relax, I covered for you. But this shit ends.” She grabs her phone, taps a few times, and places it to her ear.
“Hey, Stephan, it’s Mare. I need a favour—a rush job for a coworker. Think you can make time?” There’s a pause, she tells him what the car’s been doing, and I watch as she nods along, adds a few “yeses” and “uh-huhs” here and there. “You’re the best. I’ll tell her. Thank you, bye.”
Mare’s smile is victorious. “You, my friend, are in luck. They can get your car in this afternoon and have it ready by end of day as long as it’s nothing too major.”
“That’s amazing news, thank you. So, they’ll do it while I work?” I ask, like an idiot.
“I did try to tell you that, oh, seven hundred times.”
Why did I wait so long to do this again? “I know, I know. I really so suck. Give me the address and I’ll swing by on my lunch and drop it off,” I say, opening up the Notes app on my phone.
“No need, they’ll be by in twenty to pick it up.”
“What? No.”
“Yeah, it’s why they’re the best. Most of us here use Second Chance because they cater to our hectic shift schedules, going so far as to pick up and drop off our vehicles from the hospital parking lot. Now, go grab your keys. I told Stephan you’d meet him in the lobby.”
“Okay, perfect.” I start heading to the locker room, but stop in my tracks. “How will I know who he is?”
“He’ll be the one with the Second Chance Garage logo on his shirt.”
I nod, and hurry to grab my keys.
***
Stepping off the elevator and taking a few steps out into the lobby, I stop short.
It’s him.
Mr. Make-You-Lose-Your-Breath.
Mr. Deadly Attractive.
Mr. Panty Melter himself.
And he’s wearing a Second Chance Garage T. It’s faded grey and has seen better days, yet on him it’s mouth-wateringly tight and fits in all the right places.
Thankfully, I do better this time than the last time we met. “Mr. McKidd, right? Nice to see you again. How’s the hand?” My gaze travels down his tatted-up and muscular forearm to the bandage on his right hand.
“It’s Chance, and yes, so far, so good. Healing up nicely, thanks to you.” I feel my face heat at his compliment. Great, he has me blushing.
Shit. It’s happening again. Code yellow: we have a disaster in the making here.
“Here are the keys. Thank you so much for coming to pick it up, talk about great service,” I say, meeting his brown eyes and noticing how they’ve darkened as he takes me in. I feel an electric pulse when his fingers touch mine and wrap around the keys.
“You have no idea. I always make sure my services are the best,” he practically growls, and it sends a swarm of butterflies rioting in my stomach at his implied meaning.
“I bet you do,” I whisper as I bite my lip, practically suppressing a moan. This handsome bastard.
“Least we can do for you guys. You work hard, and are often under appreciated. It’s our way of helping out where we can, showing a little gratitude for the long hours and the rest of the crap I’m sure you deal with all shift.”
“Wow, that’s very thoughtful and much appreciated. You’re right, there is a lot of crap to deal with, especially pain-in-the-ass patients who think like Canadian handyman Red Green and opt for duct tape over medical attention.”
Chance raises his hand in mock surrender while laughing. “You got me. But my motto is I never miss a deadline, so I had no choice. Couldn’t make my client wait a day longer than promised.”
I simply roll my eyes.
“Okay, before I get outta your hair, tell me again what’s up. Steph filled me in a bit about what it’s doing.”
I do. We stand there for another ten minutes with me gabbing away and imitating broken car noises, him nodding, looking at me like I’m the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. A look I could get used to.
“That’s pretty much it. Hopefully, it’s fixable,” I relent, as I finally wrap it up.
“I’m pretty sure she’ll live to see another day,” Chance assures me, that devilish smile in full swing. “Why don’t you give me your cell, and I’ll text you what we discover and how much you’re looking at for repairs. And—fingers crossed—I can have it back to you by the time you’re ready to leave?”
After giving him my number, and telling him where the car’s parked, we stand face-to-face, smiling like two loons.
Hours later, when I’m back in the ER, arms deep in everything from sutures and stab wounds to broken bones and drunken vomit, I still can’t stop smiling nor can I stop thoughts of Chance from sneaking in.
Chapter 7
Chance
I can’t stop thinking about Faith.
Her smile.
The way her eyes lit up when she looked at me.
Can’t stop thinking about what I’d find underneath those sexy-as-fuck scrubs she wears.
Adjusting my cock, I reach for my phone and tap out a text to the little minx.
Me: Hey, looks like it’s the whole car. It needs to be replaced.
I don’t expect her to reply right away, knowing she’s likely busy, so I’m surprised to see three grey bubbles.
Faith: Oh no!
Me: Kidding, I was able to track down an old carburetor that should do the trick. I can have it ready in a few hours.
I bark out a laugh when I see her response. Too easy, this will be fun.
Faith: Wow, that really is some fast service! Thank you.
Me: It might be fast, but I promise it’s always done right.
I imagine her face as she reads. I bet she looks sexy as hell all flushed.
Faith: Always? Promising. Maybe that should be your new motto?
I type, testing where, and how far, I can take this.
Chance: Maybe you could leave a testimonial on my mad skills?
Faith: Maybe after a more up and close and personal inspection I could?
This fucking girl. I decide I need to stop before she has me trippin’ more than I already am over her.
Me: Delivery or pick up?
Faith: I’ll come
Fuck me dead. Another message follows immediately:
Faith: …and pick it up! ;-)
I shake my head, tossing my phone on the work station.
Speechless—and rock hard—I spend the rest of the afternoon fixing Faith’s car, trying to deny that not only am I counting down the hours until I see her again, but also thinking about my dad’s warning from our dinner not too long ago.
Chapter 8
Faith
“Nurse Hayes?” I hear my name called from behind me. Turning, I catch the worried expression on our general surgeon, Doctor Soloman’s, face.
“Hey, Wes. What’s up?”
“I know your shift ends in an hour, but I have an emergency cholecystectomy that can’t wait. Patient sat in the fucking ER for hours waiting to be seen. That gallbladder is going to rupture if I don’t get in there and remove it.”
Without hesitation, I agree to help. Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time a patient who is in worse condition than suspected by triage waited longer than they should have. We’re chronically understaffed, and the triage nurses can’t always know what’s lying under the surface of each patient. All we can do is try our best.
“I’ll see you in OR Four in twenty,” Wes says, as he scurries off to get prepared.
Pulling out my phone, I tap out a text to Chance. A wave of disappointment flits over me as I was looking forward to seeing him again. A part of me was building up the courage to ask him out for a coffee when I next had some time to spare.
Me: Hey, I have to work a couple of hours overtime. Just leave my car in the parking lot, and the keys under the back-passenger side mat. Thanks again!
I don’t have time to wait for his reply.
Tucking my phone in my pocket, I beeline it to OR Four to scrub in.
Chapter 9
Chance
“So, your decision to work late has nothing to do with seeing that nurse again? That what you’re selling?” Steph busts my balls as we close up the shop. It’s already 7 o’clock, and I should have left hours ago. We both should have, but we fell behind with adding Faith‘s and another doc’s car today.