Hotblooded (17 page)

“Thanks,” she said sincerely.

She’d always hated how weak Mike had been with his dad and how easily he sucked her in to helping him. But he’d been the one person who hadn’t judged her because of her mom. He knew firsthand what it was like to have a parent he wished he could divorce.

“So after Mike died, why did you stay here, with all of this…” he seemed to struggle to find an appropriate word, “…stuff?”

She frowned. “Because they expected me to go back on my word. They assumed I would take the easy way out. That’s the kind of person they think I am. I’m here to prove them wrong about everything they think about me.”

She saw Jack’s jaw tighten. He looked angry. “You’ve been living this life with—for—Mike all this time and now you feel stuck here. That’s not fair to you, Brooke.”

She couldn’t help herself any longer. She moved forward, wrapped her arms around Jack and held on.

Jack wasn’t stupid. He immediately pulled Brooke closer.

They stood like that for several minutes. Finally, she pulled back out of his hold and gave him a wobbly smile. “Thanks for saying that.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear without saying a word. He was so torn. Part of him hated the idea that Brooke had been unhappy and unfulfilled. But part of him—an admittedly much bigger part—was thrilled that Mike Worthington had not been the love, or lover, of her life.

“I feel like maybe I should just put this out there—you know, just in case,” she said.

“Okay.”

“I can’t sleep with you.”

He felt his eyebrows rise. “Just in case?”

“In case you were thinking about us having sex.”

“I can assure you,” he said, pulling her closer. “I’ve definitely been thinking about us having sex.”

She nodded, as if she’d expected his answer. “Not gonna happen.”

He wouldn’t smile. “Because…?” He knew exactly why but he wanted to hear her say it. So he could tell her she was wrong.

“That’s also what they expect. Hell, it’s what
I
expect, Jack. I don’t want to be that person.”

“The one with the healthy sex drive and a guy who can’t keep his hands off of you?” he asked. He ran those hands down over her butt and then up to her low back.

The corner of her mouth curled. “Don’t forget the reputation.”

“Do you really care what they think?”

She looked a little sad as she nodded. “Kind of.”

“You know that the reputation isn’t deserved. Let it go.”

She shook her head. “Can’t.”

She needed to.

Okay, that sounded like a great excuse to get laid. But he did believe that Brooke needed to let go. It wasn’t about physical release—well, it wasn’t
only
about physical release—it was about being herself and not apologizing for it.

She wanted this. He knew that. And there wasn’t a damned thing to be scared of or sorry for.

Enough with the talking.

His held her face between his hands and claimed her lips.

Her surrender was immediate. When she opened her mouth and moaned, he softened the hard, I-will-possess-you kiss. Her hands tangled in his hair, holding him in place, though he had no intention of stopping for the next year or so. He cupped her butt, drawing her up against him.

He made love to her mouth for several long, delicious minutes before they finally came up for air.

She let out a long breath and pushed her hair back from her face. “There are moments when I can almost see why my mom chose her profession.”

He squeezed her, chuckling and groaning at the same time. “You have to stop saying stuff like that if you want me to stop thinking about sex.”

“I know.” She stared up at him. “And it looks like you’ll have to be the one to stop thinking about it, because I sure can’t.”

He took a deep breath. “I think you need to know that chivalry only goes so far.”

“I’m pushing it?”

“Badly.”

Her lips curled. “I have to admit I kinda like it.”

“Messing with me?” And she was. It was quickly becoming critical that he have her—taste her, touch her, learn everything about her.

“The idea that maybe the good consequences can outweigh the bad,” she said softly.

Well, hell. He’d never been that good at chivalry anyway. He leaned in just as a shrill beeping erupted from his pocket. Less than a second later, the same noise spurt from Brooke’s jacket.

It seemed to take her a few seconds to recognize the sound as well, but professional instincts finally kicked on and they reached for their pagers at the same time.

“It’s Carla,” she said, checking the number.

He nodded. “Me too.”

“Damn.”

Yeah.

He pulled his cell phone out and hit the number two. The clinic was already on his speed dial.

“It’s me.”

“Is Brooke with you?”

He glanced at the woman already sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“Get back here pronto. There’s been an accident.”

He slid into the passenger seat as Brooke started the ignition.

“Where?”

“Fifth and Main. Car-pedestrian collision,” Carla told him. “I’ll meet you there with supplies. Hurry.”

Chapter Six

For a brief instant Jack felt as though he was trying to swallow a tennis ball. The bike was crumpled, one wheel bent nearly in half.

The woman, who he assumed to be the driver of the car, stood leaning against the back door of the Cadillac, getting her skirt and jacket dusty. Two other ladies were there, clearly fussing over her, while the woman held a cloth against her head. The cloth was bright white, so she was obviously not bleeding profusely, and she was talking and gesturing with her free hand. A man brought her a glass of water, and when she smiled her thanks, Jack knew she could wait.

He was out of the car before he knew for sure where he was going. His eyes flew to the small crowd that had gathered and immediately located the owner of the bike. The little boy’s helmet was on but tipped precariously to one side and he was unconscious. Jack’s throat tightened, making airflow to his lungs impossible. In seconds he was kneeling next to the child. A small bloodstain was beginning to seep into the torn denim that once covered the boy’s knee and there was a thin ribbon of blood trailing from the gash on his right temple.

Jack took a deep breath and prayed that his hands would be steady. His fear and adrenaline rush would do nothing to help this kid. “What’s his name?” he asked the crowd.

“Rico Castro.” Brooke’s voice answered and Jack glanced up over his shoulder.

“Hey, Rico,” she said softly to the child, moving beside Jack to kneel next to the boy. “Rico, can you hear me? It’s going to be okay. Dr. Silver is going to take really good care of you.” She touched Rico’s head tenderly before turning her eyes back to Jack. “He’s a hemophiliac.” She said it softly and calmly but he heard the underlying tension. “We have to get him stabilized and to Amarillo immediately.”

Jack swallowed hard. This was more than a bicycle-car collision. Rico was prone to excessive bleeding. His body would not cause his blood to clot normally. The potential for serious internal bleeding from this accident was real and life-threatening. The sooner he was taken to the hospital, the sooner the clotting factor could be given and the sooner the risk would be under control. Every minute counted.

Jack nodded, struck by the commanding note in Brooke’s voice. She appeared composed but he could see the emotions swirling in her eyes. Fear and concern and protectiveness were all there but the defensive, reserved woman he had been working with at the clinic was gone.

“Carla!” Brooke called, waving the nurse over to her side. Carla brought the Philadelphia collar and the backboard as well as blood pressure cuff and stethoscope from the back of the Explorer. “Get the helicopter right now,” Brooke said, positioning at Rico’s head to apply the stiff collar that would keep his neck stable.

“Already on its way,” Carla reported.

“You ready for the backboard?” Jack asked Brooke.

She nodded and together they gently rolled Rico to one side, slid the hard board under his body and rolled him onto it, keeping his spine straight, and secured him with Velcro straps.

Brooke knelt next to Rico’s head and touched his cheek. “Rico? Can you hear me? Rico, I want you to open your eyes.” Nothing happened. She patted his cheek and tried again. Still, no response.

Jack felt for Rico’s pulse at his wrist. “Pulse is steady and strong,” he told her, applying the blood pressure cuff to Rico’s left arm to further check his vital signs.

She carefully lifted the little boy’s shirt, examining his skin and joints, looking for further damage. It was difficult however to move the clothing out of the way, especially the jeans, with Rico on his back and their hesitancy to move him too much before knowing that his spine was stable.

She felt through his clothes for bumps or signs of fractures along both arms and legs, then stripped off his right shoe and sock and dug her fingernail into the sole of his foot. Rico’s face flinched and he pulled his foot away. “He’s responding to pain.”

They checked his blood pressure regularly, relieved it stayed fairly stable over the next few minutes. Jack felt confident they’d found all the external areas of bleeding. Between him, Brooke and Carla, they were able to keep pressure on all of the sites at once.

But it was only a few minutes later that Brooke checked his blood pressure again. Her eyes found Jack’s and she said hoarsely, “It’s falling.”

He nodded his understanding and looked down at the little boy. “Carla,” he said, taking charge. “We need to get that IV started. I think his spine is stable enough to move him to the clinic.”

They began to move as a unit just as they heard the faint sound of the helicopter’s propeller beating in the distance.

“Where are his parents?” Brooke asked Carla.

“Bruce at the hardware store called them right away. They should be here soon.”

“Send them on to Amarillo—we can’t wait.” The helicopter put down in the field about four hundred yards from where they were standing.

“You’ve got this, Brooke,” Jack told her, stretching to his feet. “I’ll get this one covered.” He gestured toward the woman who had been driving.

The woman was now standing next to the front of her car, watching them work on Rico and looking very scared.

Brooke glanced down at Rico. “You sure?” she asked.

“Definitely. I’ll handle her.”

The paramedics were there and all she could do was give him a quick nod. The woman, Johanna Gardner, was a friend of her ex-mother-in-law. Likely, she would prefer Jack’s help anyway. Rico moaned slightly as the paramedics lifted the board and her attention was immediately back on the situation at hand.

She helped the paramedics carry the backboard to the helicopter as she filled them in on the situation and Rico’s condition. Once inside the copter, one EMT continued applying compression to the injuries on Rico’s head, knee and arm while the other took his blood pressure and then cut off his shirt and jeans to inspect for further injury. Bruising was beginning to show on the little boy’s ribs.

The paramedic near the door grasped Brooke’s hand as she jumped lightly to the ground.

“We’ll take good care of him,” the young man told her.

“I’m counting on it,” she told him. She didn’t have a smile to give. Rico was hardly out of the woods yet.

She turned away from the copter, ducking as she hurried far enough away that she could safely watch their departure.

“You’re not going with him?”

She turned to find Rico’s father, breathing hard, as if he’d run the ten miles from work.

“Arturo,” she said, stepping forward and taking the big man’s hands in hers. “They have everyone and everything they need to get him safely to Amarillo.”

Arturo’s eyes were strained with fear and concern. “But what if he wakes up in the air?”

The chance was unlikely, but she wasn’t willing to share that information with the worried father. “The staff on that flight are highly trained professionals,” she assured him.

“But Rico doesn’t know them.” Arturo watched as the third paramedic jumped on board the helicopter and adjusted the tubes they’d hooked up to Rico. “I want you to go with him. They’ll let you?” he asked.

She pressed her lips together, then nodded. “I’m sure they would let me.”

“Please.” Arturo tightened his grip on her hands. “Please go.”

“Dr. Silver should go then.” She tried to turn to find Jack.

“No,” Arturo said firmly, tugging on her hand until she looked at him again. “You.”

“But Dr. Silver is an emergency physician.” She wanted to go with Rico, but Arturo was beside himself and wasn’t thinking clearly. He was scared. He obviously didn’t remember that there was a doctor at the scene. “Dr. Silver is very good,” she insisted.

“Fine,” Arturo said, squeezing her hand. “But I want you. Rico will recognize you and won’t be so scared when he wakes up.”

She looked up at the tall Hispanic man, slightly perplexed. He really did want her to go.

“You were the best student in school. You’re smart,” Arturo said. “And you’re sweet. You know us. You’ll take care of Rico.”

She knew that he knew that she was smart. That was no secret. She’d been Valedictorian and had helped tutor Arturo through Biology and Chemistry. But what echoed in her head was that he thought she was sweet.

And that was why the paramedic slammed the helicopter’s door behind her a few moments later and she waved to Jack and Carla as they lifted off on their way to Amarillo.

She watched as Arturo and his wife, Marie, headed for their car. They would be behind the copter, of course. She could understand them wanting to send someone to watch over Rico until they could get there.

And she was touched that they’d chosen her.

Brooke couldn’t quite describe the feeling it gave her, in fact. Arturo had wanted her. And not just because she was the only one there. He’d chosen her to take care of his child.

She frowned as the helicopter turned east. She’d assumed that no one in Honey Creek trusted her. Could she have been wrong?