Disobedient Cowboys [Lone Wolves of Shay Falls 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (10 page)

“Told you,” Stephen whispered. “Sound asleep.”

“Thought concussions meant you shouldn’t let ’em sleep.”

“Just the first night.”

Their voices drifted back to the living room, joined by the metallic clink of belt buckles. No doubt they were getting dressed. She let out a heavy sigh of relief.

“I’d love nothing more than to join you for a shower and breakfast,” Stephen was saying, “but I’ve got to start rounds pretty soon. And you probably shouldn’t stay with her.”

“I wasn’t plannin’ to laze around here all day. Contrary to the idea that you’re the only cowboy who found himself other work, I’m gainfully employed myself.”

“Doing what?”

“Clearin’ brush and haulin’, mostly. Me and my truck may not pull down a doctor’s wage, but we carry our own weight.”

“Didn’t mean to sound otherwise. Do you have time for a cup of coffee at the hospital cafeteria?”

Just the mention of coffee sent her bladder into spasms, and she clenched her thighs.

“One cup, if you’re buyin’. Should we wake Rose and tell her we’re goin’?”

“No, she needs rest. Leave her a note.”

A couple minutes of relative silence followed, and at last she heard the front door squeak open and closed. In case they decided to come back, she kept still for a few minutes—except for squirming around in a horizontal potty dance.

As soon as she was convinced it was safe, she shoved back the covers, grabbed her blue silk robe, and raced for the bathroom. Standing at the sink after bowing to her bladder’s demand, she indulged a good look at herself.

Christ, what a sight! Her burgundy-from-a-bottle hair hung limply over her collarbones, and her pale eyes looked muddied and dazed. Her face still bore the scabbed skid marks from the air bag, too. Pulling her robe open, she saw that the diagonal seat belt bruise had turned bluish, with ugly, jaundice-yellow patches here and there.

“No wonder they didn’t want you,” she told her reflection. “They’d probably never been gay in their lives until they saw this. One look scared them right over the rainbow.”

And so what if she had? It was better that way, wasn’t it? Better than getting tangled up in a romantic mess and earning herself some idiotic nickname people would whisper behind her back.

“What would yours be?” she asked the mirror. “Often-Wed Wendy is already taken. Maybe Ridiculously Randy Rose?”

With a sigh, she belted her robe and wandered out to the oddly empty living room. The furniture had been carefully replaced like nothing had ever happened. When she spied the paper lying on the table, she hastened over to it.

Rose,

Stephen and I stayed overnight to make sure you were okay, but we had to go to work. The doc says you need lots of rest, so we’ll leave you alone and let you have at it. I gave you my number yesterday, so call if you need anything.

Love,

Caleb

PS-the doc also says no more late-night jogging.

“Love,” she said with a snort. “Yeah, right. Same to you.”

Her suspicions were right, then. They’d only been here to make sure she didn’t have another freak-out. Now they had each other and would happily leave her alone.

She frowned at the paper, which was creased into thirds and oddly familiar. She flipped the page over and stared at the other side.

“Stephen’s letter of termination,” she breathed.

That part had been real, too, though obviously not the part where he’d asked to date her. God, what if she’d been incoherent enough to say something about her delusions? The men had been forced to chase her down, after all. What other embarrassing things had she’d done?

She groaned and dropped the letter back on the table. Taking the men’s advice seemed like the smartest thing she could do right now. She headed back to bed, determined to fall into a heavy sleep. With any luck, she wouldn’t wake up again until her world made some kind of sense.

Rose smiled at a nurse who was passing the opposite direction as they pushed their medication carts along the busy hall. Oh, it felt good to be back at work. The familiar motions of measuring pills, drawing up insulin, and performing assessments offered the sense of routine she’d been missing since she came to Shay Falls. The doctor in the emergency department had vetoed work for an additional two days, but she was here now, scabs healed, bruises largely faded, and the headaches subsided to a dull, occasional roar.

She stopped in front of her patient’s room and blanked the attached computer screen for privacy before grabbing a pair of gloves and a pre-filled syringe.

“I’m back with your antibiotic, Mr. Pierce,” she said, giving the old man a bright smile as she snapped on her gloves and moved to the bedside.

“About time,” the man groused, though his bushy brows and floppy jowls lifted from their usual scowling position. “You said you’d be back at noon.”

“And it’s five after,” she said, loading the syringe into an infuser pump. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

Rheumy eyes shot her a wary look. “Eh, I know you’re busy. You guys always look busy, running back and forth in front of my door twenty-four hours a day while I lie here like a lump.” He eyed her while she turned the pump on. “Your name is Rose, right? I don’t remember seeing you run around out there before.”

The infuser beeped acknowledgement that it was working properly. “That’s because I’m new. It’s my first day.”

He snorted, a thick sound that attempted to sound intimidating. “Great. A student nurse.”

She offered a wry grin. “Oh, no. It’s my first day here at Shay Falls Community. But I’ve been a nurse for four years.”

“Thank God.” He shifted in bed, trying to arrange his pillow behind him. “The last thing I need is a rookie who doesn’t know which end to shove the thermometer in. I’ve spent enough years being a medical practice dummy.”

She grinned while she helped him find a better position. “Speaking of which, your doctor called to order more lab work before he comes in to see you after clinic.”

“More tests. Always more tests.”

“And he wants a better IV access line for your medications, too. I asked him if it was okay to wait on the labs until the new midline is in place, and he agreed. That way, blood can be drawn right out of the port so you won’t get poked again.”

Now he smiled. “A nurse with brains and beauty? I think it might be love.”

A glance into his plastic pitcher showed it was near empty. “I’ll be back with some fresh ice water. The doctor wants to increase your fluid intake.”

“Tell him I’ve got plenty of water to drink at home, if he ever decides to let me out of here.”

On her way out, the man called after her. “Hey, Rose?”

She turned to him. “Something else you needed?”

“Yeah, to thank you. Sorry if I gave you a hard time.”

She allowed herself a satisfied smile as she headed to the ice machine for a refill. She’d heard the snickers when she’d been assigned to Mr. Pierce, who apparently enjoyed sharing his bad mood with everyone who darkened his door. Grouchy patients didn’t bother her, though. Sick people were her business, and sick people were rarely in the best of moods. She simply had to figure out the right approach, and then most of the hardened grousers would turn to putty in her hands—especially male patients. It was something she’d always been good at, and a handy skill that eased her patients’ suffering.

The staff lounge was adjacent to the kitchen, and she was about to pass the door when she thought she heard her name. She paused just out of sight to listen.

“Who, that new girl?” one of the nurses was saying. “She seems really sharp.”

“I’ll say,” a nurse named Susan replied. “Rose jumped right in and was working the computer system and finding supplies on her own. She actually offered to help
me
when I complained I was behind on charting.”

“I’d say she’s a keeper,” the other one said.

A warm feeling spread in Rose’s stomach. Hospital gossip was a given anywhere she went, and it was nice to hear people were receiving the temporary help well. Despite her rocky start, she was going to do just fine here.

It was a reassuring thought.

After waiting several beats so they wouldn’t suspect she’d overheard, Rose passed the doorway and went off to get the ice water. Halfway back, the charge nurse marched up and intercepted her. Jo Winters was a no-nonsense nurse who’d been around a while, Rose could tell. Short gray hair, a pointed nose, and a decided military air lent extra weight to every word, not to mention the woman’s overall foreboding manner.

“Dr. Andersen is back on the phone for you,” Jo said, and she almost sounded displeased that a doctor would have the audacity to call the station and ask for a nurse. “Says he has more orders on the patient he just spoke to you about.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Rose said. “Thank you.”

Rose followed the woman up to the nurses’ station, and she hurried around to pick up the call. Doctors didn’t like to be kept waiting. It wasn’t until she was reaching over to pick up the call that she glanced at the man who’d just sat down at the desk not two feet away. One look at the neatly combed hair and penetrating blue eyes froze her hand mid-reach.

“Rose,” Stephen said, flashing a paparazzi-worthy smile.

The pitcher she’d been holding slid right out of her grip and all but exploded on his lap. Chilled water drenched the shins of her scrub pants, and worse, Stephen’s expensive-looking dress shirt and beige trousers as well.

He jumped out of his seat, scattering ice onto the industrial gray carpet while Rose just stood there like an idiot, dumbfounded and staring at the pile of tiny cubes at her feet.

“Are you all right?” he asked, taking her arm to steady her while he used his dress shoes to push ice away from her.

She wanted to tell him to leave it where it was. Maybe standing in ice would help douse the flames she felt lighting up her cheeks. “That depends,” she said. “Is embarrassing clumsiness a post-concussion side effect?”

“It can be.”

Jo marched up, one hand propped on her hip. “What on earth? This won’t do,” she said, and while she clearly meant the mess, her dark eagle eyes landed on the hand Stephen had on Rose’s arm. He pulled it away.

The unit secretary scrambled over, her frizzy, red curls bouncing and towels in hand. Rather than giving the latter to the soaking wet doctor and nurse, she dropped them on the floor and began dabbing furiously at the spill. “Oh, no,” the girl said. “This is brand-new carpet.”

Stephen frowned down at her. “It’s just water. It’ll dry.”

“I’m very sorry about this, Doctor,” Jo said, giving Rose a pointed scowl to indicate that she’d missed her apology window. “Rose is new.”

“Yes,” Rose added, not that it would help matters now. “I’m terribly sorry, Doctor. I should have put the pitcher down before reaching for the phone.”

He smiled. “Like I said, it’s just water. No harm done.”

“Don’t just stand there,” Jo snapped at her. “Dr. Andersen’s still on the phone. Handle that while I get you and Dr. Williams some surgical scrubs to wear.”

The woman marched away double-time, shaking her head.

Rose glanced at Stephen, who was eyeing her while getting all but shoved out of the way by the secretary, who was busy scooping up ice cubes with a towel. “I’m so sorry,” Rose said to him again, and she took her phone call.

By the time she’d finished up with Dr. Andersen, obtained a fresh pitcher of ice water, and elicited the biggest laugh she’d heard in months when Mr. Pierce saw her drenched uniform, fresh scrubs were waiting for her at the nurses’ station. One of her patients reported chest pain, however, so getting out of her cold, wet things had to wait while she administered nitroglycerin and checked the woman’s vital signs. Jo finally came into the room to chase Rose off.

“Haven’t you changed yet?” she asked while Rose pulled the blood pressure cuff off her patient’s arm.

“Mrs. Fiedler’s having chest pain again,” Rose answered, smiling sympathetically at the blonde woman who was lying in bed, her heavily lined forehead creased deeper with worry.

Mrs. Fiedler was a real type-A personality who was rarely seen when she wasn’t typing away furiously on her laptop. Bringing work to the hospital during a heart attack scare wasn’t something Rose could really recommend, but the fifty-year-old was set in her ways.

“I’ll take care of it,” Jo said. “You need to put something dry on. It looks unprofessional, running around like that.”

And here Rose almost thought Jo had been concerned for her health.

With a nod of thanks and a few words of encouragement to her patient, Rose went out to grab the folded pair of scrubs sitting on the counter at the nurses’ station. She risked a quick glance around before heading down the hall. Stephen had long since gone. Good. At least one positive thing had come from her utter lack of grace—she didn’t have to face Dr. Williams at the moment. She’d see him again eventually, but hopefully she could become a master of avoidance.

A dull pounding in her temples announced the return of her headache, and she rubbed her forehead with a soft groan. Stephen’s appearance at the station shouldn’t have given her such a shock. She knew that seeing him was inevitable. That had weighed heavily in her thoughts the past few days, and she’d tried unsuccessfully to banish fantasies about the first time she would run into him again. In her fantasies, she’d been in the middle of a great hair day and faced him with the perfect amount of aloof professionalism to make him sorry he’d dumped her as a patient, while at the same time not giving the slightest indication that she cared.