Here And Now (American Valor 2) (2 page)

“What am I supposed to do about dinner?”

“You’re a big boy. You’ll figure it out. I gotta go.” Rachel quickly disconnected the call as Curtis swore and sputtered on the other end.

She really wanted to tell him to have little Miss Blue Panties make his dinner, but shooting off her mouth would only hurt her in the end. If she had a place to crash temporarily, she would’ve said it. But Curtis was just vindictive enough he’d destroy her stuff before she’d have a chance to retrieve it.

Nope. She needed to play it cool. Avoid him at all costs and find a new place to live ASAP. Which also meant she needed to find someone to help her move out in the middle of the day when Curtis wouldn’t be home.

The idea of a covert moving-day operation made her laugh. What she wouldn’t give to see the look on his face when he returned home to find her stuff gone.

With only seven minutes until her shift began, Rachel whipped into the employee parking lot. And as her luck would have it, the first row was completely full. As was the second and third. Through the half light, she saw a car on the next aisle backing out and hurried to claim the spot. Without coming to a complete stop at the end of the aisle, she made a quick right and saw something flash in her headlights just before the moment of impact.

L
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himself up to sit with one hand, instantly feeling the throb and burn of a good old-fashioned case of road rash. With his feet tangled with the frame of his bike and the cleats from one pedal digging into his calf, it took several seconds to extricate himself from the wreckage.

“Oh, my God,” he heard a woman say as she came around the front of the truck and fell to her knees beside him. Although it was hard to make out her features looking into the glare of the headlights, he could see she pulled a cell phone from her pocket. “Don’t move. Just give me a second to call 911.”

“I’m fine,” he said, reaching out to stop her from calling.

“You don’t know that. Since you aren’t wearing a damn helmet you could have a concussion and not really be aware of your injuries.”

Who did this chick think she was? After all,
she
hit
him
. Not the other way around.

Lucky tried to get a look at her face, but the bright headlights silhouetted her so that he could only make out the color of her shoulder-length hair. Blond.

Figured.

“I promise you, I’m fine.”

He must’ve convinced her since she shoved her phone into her pocket. She put both hands on her knees and huffed. “I’m a nurse. At least let me take a look at you.”

“I think you’ve done enough,” he mumbled under his breath.

As he rose to his feet, Lucky felt a sharp pain in his hip where he’d taken the brunt of the fall. He doubted it was anything more than a deep bruise, something he’d definitely feel for the next couple of days, but nothing that required medical attention. Thankfully, the pickup had only clipped his back wheel and sent him into the curb instead of hitting him directly. Otherwise, who knew what kind of injuries he’d have ended up with.

Again, she asked him to let her have a look.

“No need. I’ll handle it,” he said, waving her off. “Just pay attention next time.”

With the front wheel of his mountain bike now resembling a taco, he lifted it over his shoulder and walked to the side entrance of the hospital. Outside he locked his bike to a light pole, then headed in through the automatic doors and down the hall to the ER. The desk clerk, an older woman with big hair and an even bigger smile, waved hello as she hung up the phone.

“Well, hello there, handsome,” Dottie said in her southern drawl. “You’re a little late tonight.”

“Some idiot driver clipped my back wheel and tossed me into the curb.” He showed her the giant tear and bloodstain on the sleeve of his shirt. “I need to clean myself up before clocking in.”

“Sure thing, sugar. Exam room seven is open. Anything else you need? A kiss to make it all better?” she asked with a wink.

Lucky chuckled. “Another time, maybe.” She was old enough to be his grandmother, but that didn’t deter her from a little innocent flirting. “I could use some scrubs.”

“Absolutely. We can’t have you looking like that. Whatever will the ladies think?” she said with a laugh. “Give me just a minute and I’ll bring you some.”

Chapter Two

W
HEN THE PHONE
kept ringing nonstop and the desk clerk asked her to take a set of scrubs to exam room seven, Rachel didn’t think much of it. It was, after all, an ER and she assumed they were for a patient whose clothes were ruined and was in need of something to wear home. She gave a light tap on the exam room door and pushed it opened further, expecting to find someone at least sitting on the exam table and requiring assistance. What she did not expect was to see a fine physical specimen, upright and most certainly able-bodied, whipping his shirt off over his head in one swift fluid motion. Nor did she expect to be greeted by strong shoulders, a broad muscular back, and narrow hips.

Holy moly.

This guy was by far the best-looking man she’d seen in the flesh in a very long time. Maybe ever. And she hadn’t even seen his face.

She clutched the scrubs to her chest and stood silent and tongue-tied, watching, appreciating, as the muscles in his back and arms flexed and strained as he unfastened the leather belt around his waist and released the button. All those finely sculpted muscles worked in unison to create a stunning physical display of power and strength as he shoved his pants to the floor.

Wearing only white crew socks and gray boxer briefs, he turned to face her and she nearly forgot how to breathe. She thought the back was nice? The chest. The abs. The dark trail of hair that began just below his navel and disappeared beneath the waistband of his briefs.

“You could’ve dropped them on the table and left instead of just standing there.”

Her gaze shot upward to see one corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile, and as dark brown eyes stared back at her she was immediately struck by the feeling she knew this guy. There was something so familiar about him, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

She swallowed hard in an effort to unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “You knew I was standing here?”

Instead of answering, he simply held out his hand, his eyes flicking to the scrubs she held in a stranglehold against her chest before lifting to meet hers once again.

“How?” She relaxed her grip, felt the blood rush back to her fingertips as she placed the scrubs in his hand. “How did you know?”

“Spatial awareness,” he said, taking the clothes from her and immediately tossing the shirt onto the gurney. “That and you knocked on the door before you came in.” He flashed that half smile again before stepping into the pants and tying the drawstring. “Thanks for the clothes, Rachel. I can handle it from here.”

Immediately she looked down to see if he’d read the name from her badge, only to realize her crossed arms were covering her ID. Clearly, he knew her. So she looked harder this time, doing her best to ignore the chest and abs and arms and focus on his face. As she mentally stripped away the disheveled hair, the heavy scruff covering his face, the laugh lines around his eyes, the earlier feelings of lust were replaced by a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

There was little doubt the man standing in front of her was the one and only Lucky James.

She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “How long have you been back in town?”

His eyes softened. “Since August.”

From his tone, she knew he was thinking back to that same hot summer day, when she was angry at God and everyone but lashed out at Lucky. And the last thing she wanted to do right now was talk about it.

There was a loud knock on the door as it pushed open and in walked another man with a stethoscope dangling around his neck. Although he was about the same age, this guy was blond and wore glasses. He stopped short at the sight of her and offered his hand. “Are you Karen’s replacement? We haven’t met yet. I’m Chad Ferguson.”

That was a name she recognized as being one of the ER doctors.

“I’m not sure who Karen is,” she said, taking his hand, “but I’m Rachel Dellinger. I transferred down here from the floor. Tonight’s my first night.”

“It’s good to have you,” he said with a nod and a smile before turning his attention to Lucky.

“So, what in the hell did you do, man? I couldn’t believe it when Dottie said you were in here. Thought I’d come check on you to make sure you didn’t do some real damage.”

It was then she noticed the fresh blood and dirt on the backside of Lucky’s right arm. Which meant
he
was the guy from the parking lot.

Lucky’s gaze momentarily slid to her, then back to the ER doc. “Nothing major. A little bit of road rash and that’s it. Give me five minutes and I’ll be outta here.”

“No rush,” Ferguson said as he grabbed a couple of latex gloves from the dispenser on the wall. “Not like there’s anything going on out there anyway.”

“You know you just jinxed it, right?”

“Hell, yes.” Ferguson laughed. “You know there’s nothing I hate more than a quiet ER. Now let me make sure you didn’t break anything.”

Rachel tried to back out of the way, but found herself hemmed in as Ferguson manipulated Lucky’s arm, working it to and fro, testing the elbow and then the shoulder.

“Any pain in your wrist? Hand?”

“Nope.”

Then, as if the room couldn’t be any more crowded, another woman she didn’t yet know poked her head in the doorway. “We’ve got an ambulance en route. Patient is twenties, male. Motorcycle versus pickup.”

“Ask and ye shall receive,” Ferguson said with a wide grin on his face. He took a moment to strip off his gloves and toss them in the hazardous-waste bin. “Things look fine, like you said. Let Rachel get you all bandaged up. But don’t be too long. This could be a good one.”

As the ER doc rushed out of the room, she turned to grab wound cleanser and gauze pads from the supply cart. “Without a mirror, there’s no way you can see to clean it properly.”

“You can go.” He tugged the bottle of wound cleanser from her hands. “I can take care of this.”

Rachel grabbed the bottle back from him and set it down next to the gauze pads, daring him to try that little maneuver a second time.

Once she was convinced he’d leave things well enough alone, she yanked a set of latex gloves from the dispenser and immediately pulled one on her right hand while leaning over to get a closer look. It was nothing more than a scrape, a pretty good one that had to hurt like hell. And when it started to heal and scab over, it was bound to pull and break open every time he bent his elbow.

“So you’re the idiot from the parking lot.”

The smile was gone from Lucky’s face this time when she looked up at him. Not that she could really blame him since she hadn’t really meant to say that last little bit out loud.

That’s when she heard him mumble something under his breath about her driving skills. Obviously he didn’t think riding around on a bicycle in the almost dark didn’t play a part in their little incident in the parking lot.

She blew out a frustrated breath and pulled on the second glove, snapping the latex against her palm while reminding herself that when she became a nurse she swore she’d treat all patients with care, no matter their gender or race or rotten disposition and holier than thou attitudes.

“So, obviously you work here in the ER,” she said, turning her attention to the sterile packaging she was tearing open. “What do you do? Are you a doctor?” She held her breath hoping he wasn’t since she kinda hit him with her truck even though it was totally his fault. But it’d just be her luck to get fired the first night on the job.

“I’m a tech.”

Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s it?”

“Wow. Don’t hold back from saying what you really think.” He grabbed the freshly opened gauze pad from her hand. “Since I’m the lowly technician who’d normally handle this type of stuff, I’ll just take care of it myself.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve been over this.” She snatched the gauze four-by-four back from him, doused it with antiseptic, and pressed it to his scrape at the widest point.

“Goddammit,” he said through gritted teeth.

She maybe could have used a more gentle hand, but what was done was done. “Who knew a Green Beret would be such a baby about a little scrape.”

“Ranger. Not the same.” He took hold of her wrist, pulling her hand from his arm. “I promise you, I can handle this from here.”

“Fine. If you say so.”

She stripped off her gloves and dropped them along with the gauze in the hazardous-waste bin and marched out of the room, thankful she didn’t have to spend one more minute taking care of the man.

A
FTER A HELLISH
night at work, all Lucky wanted to do was go home, pull his blackout curtains closed, and turn off his phone. It ended up that wrecking his bike was just the beginning of his bad night. He was pissed on, vomited on, and then there was the unfortunate patient who needed assistance removing his penis ring. For four days the poor guy had tried to remove it on his own and only came in when the swelling reached the point he couldn’t pee anymore. It definitely gave a whole new meaning to blue balls and he and Chad couldn’t help but wince in sympathy when they got a look at the mess.

So when the sun came up and his shift was over, Lucky was more than ready to get the hell out of there. His hip ached, his knee ached, and his elbow was wrecked enough he had to change the bandage more than once through the night. Then there was the little problem of his transportation home. Any other day, he’d heft the bike over his shoulder and haul it the two and a half miles home on foot. But today, he’d had enough. He was tapping out because he could.

Not even two full months out of regiment and already he was going soft.

For the next few minutes he chastised himself enough to feel sufficiently guilty for being so damn lazy. Was even on the verge of calling his dad back and telling him to forget about the ride when his old man pulled up to the hospital’s front entrance. Lucky gave himself a pass this time, taking a silent vow this would be the one and only time he’d do this. Next time, he’d suck it up and haul himself home on his own two feet, no matter what kind of day he’d had.

“So much for the saying ‘Just like riding a bike,’ ” Duke James said with a laugh when he got a look at Lucky’s road bike. “It definitely looks like somebody forgot how.”

“I didn’t forget how to ride a damn bike,” Lucky countered as he lifted the wrecked bike into the bed of the truck, then climbed into the passenger’s side. But his mood brightened almost instantly as he was greeted with the heavenly scent of cinnamon and sugar. His stomach rumbled right on cue. “Cinnamon rolls?”

Duke answered with a smile and handed over a Tupperware container filled to the brim with sticky, gooey goodness.

God bless Brenda.

It didn’t matter that he’d be home in a few minutes, he wasn’t going to waste any time popping the lid off and sinking his fingers into the sweet, doughy goodness. He lifted one roll to his nose, inhaled its sweet scent so as to savor the moment much like a wine aficionado would do with a full-bodied red. Then he opened his mouth wide and shoved it in, his eyes drifting shut in pure ecstasy. There might have been inappropriate noisemaking as well. No regrets.

“Good stuff, isn’t it?” his father asked.

Before Lucky had even finished the first, he was grabbing a second roll from the container. “Absolutely.”

There was nothing healthy about his father’s girlfriend’s cooking. The woman put Paula Deen’s love for butter to shame. An old school kind of cook, Brenda poured off leftover bacon grease into an empty Crisco can she kept beneath the sink. Whenever a dish lacked a little flavor, out came the can and a little helping of meat fat was added. His arteries screamed at the thought of it, but damn if her cinnamon rolls weren’t a little slice of heaven worthy of a few months off his life.

“You never said how you wrecked your bike.”

“Had my back wheel clipped in the parking lot and it tossed me into the median,” Lucky said around of mouthful of cinnamon roll. “The front wheel is toast. Basically folded it in half.”

“Someone hit you? Did they at least stop? Make sure you were okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” Lucky said before taking another bite. “Funny thing about it . . . the driver was Rachel Dellinger.”

“Did she know it was you? Maybe she did it on purpose,” his dad said with a chuckle.

Lucky shook his head. “She didn’t do it on purpose. She didn’t even recognize me at first. It wasn’t intentional, it was an accident. Nothing more.”

“If you say so.” His father was still smiling, still amused as he pulled into the driveway and threw the truck into park. “But if I were you, I’d keep an eye out. That girl definitely does not like you.”

As Lucky opened the passenger door, he looked back at his father. “Are you gonna come in?”

“Sorry. Can’t today. Brenda’s cousin’s daughter is getting married this afternoon, so I gotta hurry back and get ready for that.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Not sure I’d go that far.” His father reached out and patted the back of Lucky’s shoulder. “Anyhow, I’ll see you later. Get some rest.”

Lucky thanked his dad one last time for the ride home, then lifted his bike from the back of the truck. His dad backed out of the driveway, gave the horn a little beep and one last wave.

After watching Duke drive away, he hefted his bike over his shoulder and made his way around to the back side of the house. He climbed the steps and promptly dropped the wrecked mess on the screened back porch. Hopefully, he’d be able to find a replacement wheel in town. Otherwise, he might have to head south across the river, maybe even drive the hour or so to McKinney in order to find one. Not that he was in any rush to find a replacement because his days of riding the damn thing to work were definitely done.

Since his belly was full, he headed straight for the bathroom and turned on the shower, cranking the temperature as hot as it would go. As he stripped off his clothes, his body ached and creaked like that of an old man and in the mirror he caught sight of a dark purple bruise that had bloomed on his hip. He stripped off the wrappings and bandages covering his arm and climbed into the shower. The hot water stung his road rash like a son of a bitch, but eased the feeling in his muscles that he’d been hit by a Mack truck. He closed his eyes and turned into the hot spray and within an instant her face appeared beneath his lids. Those bright blue eyes. The full rose-colored lips. Rachel Dellinger was just as beautiful as he remembered.