Where There's Smoke (2 page)

She shrieked, arching back into the couch. “Three!” she gasped. “You said three!"

"You were already tensing up. It'd only hurt more.” He molded the ice in its Ziploc bag onto her knee and she cried out, jerking her leg away.

Seth sucked in a sympathetic breath. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he whispered. “Dad, can you—I'm pretty sure we have a few Ace bandages in the bathroom upstairs. Can you get me one?"

Seth hovered while he waited, rubbing his thumb over the smooth skin above her knee. Lauren hissed, but this time he didn't think it had anything to do with pain. He snatched his hand back, not looking at her, afraid she might realize where his thoughts had strayed.

Oscar returned with the bandages and Seth removed the ice to gently wrap her knee, snugging the fabric enough to give it support, smoothing it over her instead of touching her skin.

"Okay, stay off it till the swelling goes down.” He dragged a hand through his hair as he double-checked his handiwork, then looked up at her. “Please let me take you to the ER."

Her eyes were a little out of focus from the pain, and her indecision showed as she looked at her knee. “Can we eat first? I don't want to ruin everyone's dinner.” She looked up at her mother. “Sorry I won't be able to help."

Valerie turned back into the kitchen. “I knew nothing good would come of that fooling around."

"Thanks for the sympathy,” Lauren muttered, and pushed into a sitting position.

"Whoa, whoa, where do you think you're going?” Seth stopped her with one hand out.

She looked around at those who'd drifted away in disinterest now that her kneecap was back where it should be and wrapped out of sight. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said, color returning to her face all at once.

Seth turned to his father, who'd settled back on the other couch. “Dad, do we still have those crutches?"

Oscar shrugged, his attention back on the game. “Somewhere."

"Can you go look?” Seth asked with a touch of impatience.

"Um, Seth?” Lauren touched his arm. “I can't wait."

"All right, then.” He bent down, slipped one arm beneath her legs and the other behind her back. His thumb brushed the side of her breast and he quickly readjusted his touch before lifting her. He grunted when she settled against his chest, curving her arms around his neck, her hands soft and cool against his suddenly overheating skin. That was just the result of exerting himself in front of the fireplace his mother insisted on burning—not because of Lauren's skin, or her breast. Damn, he couldn't even think about the word breast in the same sentence with Lauren. “I'm not going to keep doing this after you eat three helpings of sweet potato casserole."

"I can hop."

"And fall down and hit your head.” He started down the hall and through his parents’ room to the master bath. He would only do so much penance; climbing the stairs with Lauren was not on the list. “Then I would have to take you to the ER and miss Thanksgiving dinner anyway."

He started through the bathroom door, but she grabbed the doorjamb. “Oh, no you don't. I can take it from here."

"Are you sure?” He set her carefully on her good leg and got his hands off her. Quickly.

"So very sure.” She eased inside, bracing herself on the sink. “And don't stand out here listening like you did in the sand dunes when we used to go camping."

"I didn't just listen,” he teased.

"Oh!” She slammed the door in his face.

God, her leg hurt, not only the knee, but even the toes and hip. She leaned on the sink and edged toward the toilet, trying to figure out how to do this.

"Lauren? You all right in there?"

She snapped her head toward the door. He sounded so close. “Give me a minute!"

"Honey, you've been in there nearly five."

She swayed with the knowledge. “Minutes? Really?"

"You want me to go get one of my sisters?"

Shame outweighed that temptation. “No! No, just wait there, okay?"

"Okay,” he said softly. “I'll be right here."

Now why did he go and say something like that? Why was he being nice? She could handle Seth the tease, and Seth the bully, but when he was nice—well, she didn't have much resistance for that. And she prided herself on being the only woman in San Antonio who could resist Seth Escamilla. She'd had the most practice.

She was washing her hands when Seth came through the door. Good Lord, she hadn't even locked it? She slapped a hand up against the wood. “God, Seth!"

"You need help?” His eyes were dark with concern, his brow furrowed. Oh, no. She needed the old light-hearted Seth back. She didn't want to be carted around by this guy. He was too dangerous.

"Did your dad find the crutches yet?” She hooked her hand behind his neck. This close, she noticed how neatly he kept his hair trimmed, noticed the touches of red threaded among the black. Back, damn hormones, back. Back! She envisioned stuffing the girly-looking, fairy-type things back in a bottle and corking it shut for another ten years.

"He's carving the turkey right now. He said he'd look after dinner."

The rumble of his voice echoed in his chest and she resisted the alien urge to rest her head on his shoulder. Whoa, those drugs worked fast. Wait a minute. She hadn't taken any yet. She turned her thoughts to something less disturbing, like the pain in her leg. At least that pain was fleeting. Lusting after a guy like Seth could scar her for life.

Seth set her on the couch. “I'll bring you a plate. What do you want?"

"Turkey and cranberries,” she said, trying to get comfortable, not easy without moving her leg.

He looked skeptical. “That's it?"

"Right.” She shoved an extra pillow behind her for support. “Pile it on. Everything but corn, okay?"

"Gotcha."

He disappeared into the kitchen and she dropped her head to the back of the couch. She listened to the buzz of conversation from the dining room table, hidden from view by the back of the couch. No one seemed to miss her.

Seth returned with two plates and dragged the coffee table closer to Lauren. She sat up with some effort. “Two plates? How hungry do I look?"

"One's for me."

"Oh, good.” She took the one he offered and pointed her fork at the other. “I don't like my food all smashed together like that."

"You can fit more stuff that way.” He put a pillow from the back of the couch on her lap beneath her plate. “I'll get our drinks and be right back."

"You don't have to sit with me,” she said when he returned with two glasses of iced tea.

"Well, sure.” He made room for himself at her feet. “I don't want you to eat your Thanksgiving dinner alone."

"A guilty conscience is a terrible thing,” she teased, popping a piece of a roll in her mouth. Damn, he was being nice again.

"Turn off the TV,” his mother Sandra called.

Seth reached across the coffee table for the remote, clicking off right in the middle of a kick-off. The men groaned. Sandra shushed them and the two families offered grace.

"Isn't it sweet the way Seth is looking after Lauren?” Sandra said, sotto voce. “Maybe this is the answer to my prayers."

"We can hear you!” Lauren called. She couldn't look at Seth. Their parents’ fondest wish was for the two of them to hook up romantically. It was not something either of them discussed.

Sandra lowered her voice. “He should take her to the ER so they can spend that time together."

Oh yeah. In that haven of romance. Lauren wanted to roll her eyes, but respected Sandra too darn much.

"They're together all the time anyway,” Valerie said. “I swear, if she didn't have her friend Hilary, I'd worry she had no female influence at all. Lord knows she never listens to me."

"Can still hear you,” Lauren reiterated.

"It would be wonderful if they'd only realize how perfect they are for each other,” Sandra went on. “It would keep our families connected and it would settle them down."

Wordlessly, Seth clicked on the TV, drowning out the conversation. Their families didn't need a connection. Their fathers had been best friends since high school, had joined the Marines together, fought in Vietnam together. They came home and married within a month of each other, and now worked at the same firehouse. While Lauren was an only child—thus the only hope for a marital connection—Seth had three sisters and a brother. Lauren had always preferred Seth's adventures to those of his sisters. It was just always comfortable. She didn't want that to change. And if she managed to keep control of herself, it wouldn't.

"I don't want to go to the emergency room,” Lauren said petulantly after Seth cleared their plates. She knew it was necessary, but was scared of what the doctors would find. She cast a pleading look at him as he waited, unflinching, her jacket folded over his arm.

"You might have torn something. I'd rather be safe than sorry."

"I'm perfectly fine.” She swung her bad leg off the couch and struggled upright, all of her weight on her good leg. “See? No problem."

He dropped his hands down in front of him, feet slightly apart in a challenge. “Put your foot down."

"All right, I'm putting my foot down. I refuse to go to the emergency room."

"All right, then. I can't make you.” He placed her folded coat on the back of the couch. “I'll tell Mom you're ready to help with the dishes."

"You play dirty.” Washing dishes for a crowd of twenty held less appeal than the ER. She staggered and touched her toe to the floor to regain her balance. Everything went white and Seth gripped her arms.

"Okay, here we go.” He picked her up once more. “We're going!” he called to the rest and carried her out to the car.

The emergency room was a madhouse, whimpers of pain underneath loud protests echoing off the tile walls. Lauren kept her eyes averted from the electric knife accident, and several other amateur football injuries. She sat beside a man who smelled like he had a digestive problem. Food poisoning victims were well represented, making Lauren oddly grateful for her knee. Seth was engrossed in the game on the tiny TV mounted in the corner, and Lauren dozed against his shoulder, sleepy from the turkey.

She woke with a start when a woman charged into the waiting area carrying a damp blanket and screaming for help. Seth was on his feet in an instant and took the bundle, calling for a gurney. “It's okay,” he assured the stricken woman. “I'm an EMT. What happened?"

"I couldn't find her,” the woman half gasped, half sobbed. “She got caught in the pool cover and I didn't see her."

Seth glanced up at the woman, then peeled back the blanket. He made a small noise Lauren recognized as horror, but kept his expression impassive. In a calm voice, he instructed the man from the admissions desk to get the trauma doctor immediately and the woman's voice went shrill.

"Is she dead?"

Seth didn't answer, only tilted the child's head back gently, swept his finger in her mouth and bent his head to cover her mouth with his. The certainty of his movements was at odds with his hesitation with Lauren's injury earlier. Ignoring her own pain, Lauren edged closer, fascinated.

Seth rose for a quick breath. “How old is she?"

"Three."

Lauren closed her eyes and swallowed the overwhelming sadness.

"What's her name?” How could Seth stay so calm when the little body was so still beneath his hands? Was this what he did every day? How could he bear it? She felt the urge to go to him, put her arms around him.

"Jackie,” the woman said.

Seth sent another puff of breath into the child's lungs, then drew back, sitting on his heels as the child started coughing.

"Okay, Jackie, you're going to be okay,” he said to the faceless bundle, his hands moving over her assessingly. “You're at the hospital and the doctors are going to make you all better.” Lauren could tell by the brightness in his voice that he didn't believe it.

When a trauma team finally rushed forward to take the child, Seth looked over at Lauren, silently asking permission to see this through. She nodded once, a lump in her throat, her chest tight, and he disappeared through the double doors.

Seth found Lauren after she'd been wheeled back to an exam room, while she waited for x-rays, ignoring the shouts of pain on the other side of the curtain.

"Hey.” He slid onto the rolling stool beside her and took her hand. He smiled, but tension pulled at the edges of his mouth. She looked from his soaked sweatshirt to his face but he wouldn't meet her eyes.

"How is she?"

He shook his head. “It's going to be tough going for awhile, but her mother got her here pretty quickly. That could make a difference."

She squeezed his hand, unable to say anything. Just as well—anything that came out would probably sound stupid and insensitive. “That poor woman."

He looked at her with something like surprise in his eyes.

She was taken aback at his reaction. “What, you don't think I can be sympathetic?"

"Well, no, not that.” He sat back and waved his hand as if swatting the thought away.

"Then what?” she asked, straightening up on the exam table. Did he think she was so self-absorbed she couldn't feel for someone else's pain, that she was too involved in her own? “Nice to know you think I'm shallow."

"I don't. I just—didn't expect—I don't usually see people at their best. I never thought about you seeing that part of my life."

Ah. Not about her at all. He was uncomfortable with what she'd witnessed. She reached out. “You were great with her."

He made a noncommittal noise through his nose, which meant he didn't want to talk about it, but she had to know.

"So you—deal with that sort of thing a lot?"

"The pay's good, lots of overtime. I only fill in when they need me. It's intense. Little kids are the worst. I'd rather fight fires.” He pulled his hand away to support his bent head.

Lauren fluttered her touch above his shoulder, the back of his head. She'd never seen him so upset. They'd always been good friends, but most of their interaction was lighthearted. Even the tragedies they'd faced together—her bad break up, his dropping out of college—paled in comparison to this. She'd never seen him cope with anything so traumatic, never realized he could feel so deeply over someone else's pain, and the way he'd gone straight to work, without even thinking about it stunned and impressed her. This competence, this compassion was beyond her experience, made him more of a man than the carefree boy she'd loved forever, and something inside tightened in response.