Catching Preeya (Paradise South Book 3) (9 page)

Shit, was Ben getting
concerned?

“I’m going to grab the AEDs myself—Leena’s taking too long.” She spun toward first class to go, but Ben grabbed her wrist before she took a step.

Ben couldn’t say a word to follow up his touch before she heard it.
A
gasp.

A gasp from heaven, that’s what met her ears.

The boy jolted, his torso suddenly perpendicular to his legs, clutching his neck in his hands, air flooding into his shocked and
oxygen-deprived
body. The lanky and frail
twelve-year
-old body, now sitting up with life.
Alive, thank
God.

His mother came running up the aisle toward them and knelt at her boy’s feet. Ben slid behind the boy at the window end of the row and let the child rest on Ben’s chest while the child continued to oxygenate.

Preeya’s heart racked her rib cage and, officially dizzy from adrenaline and pure fear, she let her body slide to the floor then surrender back onto her calves. She swallowed back the emotion, held it at the brink. Oh God, that mother’s terror. Dear Jesus, the weight of the mere thought of losing a child made her never, ever want kids. Thoughts of losing Prana, her baby sister, swept in but Preeya blew them out again with a violent gust as quick as they’d come.
No, not
ever.

Leena was there the next second, heaving with relief. “Oh God, thank you.”

“Landing…?” Ben asked of Leena.

“Boise. Seven minutes out.”

“With this type of allergic event, we don’t know if there will be another episode. Have an ambulance standing by. And two more injections at the ready.”

Preeya got up from the floor. “The kit in the front has two more. I’ll get ’em. And waters…” The boy’s mother brought one back for her son as Preeya had instructed. “I’ll bring back a few more bottles.”

“Yes. Please,” Ben said, his head leaning against the hard window shade, the boy still panting, eyes closed, weak, wilted against Ben’s
sweat-drenched
and heaving chest.

Preeya started down the aisle, but looked back over her shoulder.

At Dr. Ben Trainer.

How’d he do it? Moment by moment, breath by breath, he’d pushed life back into the
lifeless
. He literally breathed a second chance into that
near-dead
boy, that
hardly-lived
-yet son of that mother, that
gasping-and
-grasping child, the brother to that wailing little girl. To keep it down, all of the erupting
near-death
and
too-close
,
Preeya bit her bottom lip. Hard. So hard it might’ve drawn blood—she didn’t know or care. But the sharp pain did its job. No tears.
Breathe, and no
tears.

It had been just way too much
life and death
. Perhaps she’d stumbled upon yet another subconscious reason for having dropped out of medical school.
Life and death.
Not for her.

CHAPTER 9

T
hey landed in
Boise, Idaho, without another anaphylactic episode, and the
twelve-year
-old was
off-loaded
quickly and safely. His trip to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, would be for another time, apparently.

As would Preeya’s.

She’d most definitely arrive in Vallarta some time
after
Amy’s wedding ceremony—and she’d probably miss the celebration, too. She was the flight attendant with the least seniority, the most medical training, the most favors owed to her associates, and the one who’d been most present during the entire medical ordeal
in-flight
, so she was required to stay grounded until all the mandatory medical and liability paperwork for the airline and FTA was finished.

In Boise.

“I’ll be back, say, in two hours for the forms?” the Jetta Air rep asked…
but didn’t
ask
.

Preeya inhaled, rallying patience and calm. “Sure thing. And when’s my flight out?”

“Tomorrow, the two p.m. to Houston.”

Two p.m.
Three and a half hours to Houston, a minimum
one-hour
layover, a
three-hour
flight to Vallarta…
if there’s a
non-stop
. She’d get to Amy no earlier than,
shit
, 8:00 p.m.?

Preeya procrastinated making the call to Amy. An image of her friend’s
far-off
fist wringing out Preeya’s heart muscle in her chest made it hard to catch a full breath. And honestly, she was strangely disappointed. Amy’s extravagant shindig—and the perfect distraction from her father’s matrimonial joke—might have even been fun. Reuniting with college friends, laughing, dancing, and drinking—which she’d have kept
light
, the mere thought of vodka in the guest room sent shivers up her spine. She sighed then pinched the bridge of her nose.

And shit.
It dawned on her that she now had her
time-off
request solidified, flights set. Three days in Mexico with no one there she’d know when she arrived. Amy and Darren would be on their honeymoon cruise already, and everyone else would also be long gone. She’d have to hit the beautiful beaches and sites on her own.
Solo.
Chills drifted up her neck.

She swallowed and looked across the lobby of the
oh-so
-glamorous Boise Inn.

Where she was
not
alone.

The Jetta Air representative stood there grinning from ear to ear, a proud glimmer in her eye—what a happy little delegator.

And sitting at Preeya’s three o’clock with a different kind of pride—yes, a justified yet modest, subdued pride—was Dr. Ben Trainer. He’d also been asked to stay in Boise—the airline would compensate him with a few travel vouchers for the future as thanks—as his input and medical
sign-off
were both necessary for the liability report.

So Boise and
Doctor
Ben—who she might just have been wrong about, but probably not. She sighed for the tenth time and bit her bottom lip.
Bright sides?
She wasn’t all alone, and she wasn’t in a guest room in Seattle or at a wedding in Berkeley. Yeah, there’s always got to be a bright side. More of her mother’s wisdom that had stuck.

Preeya zoned out the window, but from her side view caught the good doctor’s smile and his simple, sweet gaze to match. She ventured a look his way, but he flicked his attention to the enormous pile of forms.

Yes, best focus on the
paperwork.

Because they had only two hours. For the mountain of paperwork. And after that absurd and completely unrealistic deadline?
Twenty-four
hours of nothing in the nation’s great potato capital.

Stick to the silver lining, Preeya, and just go with
it.

Go with it, right.
Go help the man get through the paperwork and then…talk to him. Like a human being. What else is there to do?

Preeya swallowed then sat forward on her seat. “Are you—”

“—so should…”

They both snickered at their simultaneous attempts, then immediately threw their gazes elsewhere. Until she felt his blazing eyes on her neck, and her checks burned. She turned her head and caught him. And he didn’t flinch. He only keyed in to her gaze harder. Unrelenting.

Moments slinked by; neither looked away. Not awkward, and not necessarily hot, though something in her stomach fluttered. No, it was something else. Something lighter. A relief. One that only two people who had saved a life together seven miles above the earth could understand, know, share.

And so this was it.
Just her and him, the dynamic duo, stuck in the invigorating city—
town
—of Boise, Idaho. Together for the next
twenty-four
hours.

*

She pulled a breath to quiet the deafening pulse in her ears—God, what was with the nerves?—then gave him a
thin-lined
smile. “So, starting the paperwork…”

“Yes, we should…” He took out a pair of glasses from his
man-bag
—she swallowed her giggle—then felt her phone at her fingertips.

Wait—what about Amy?
And Gigi, especially after this morning’s lecture. “Um, you know, though…I should send a few ‘I’m okay’ texts to family first. Who knows if this little detour made the news…then I’m all yours.”

His brows floated high on his forehead and his cheeks blushed—
Jesus, all yours
? She shook her head, positive her cheeks were redder than his, while he cleared his throat and, blinking his eyes long and slow, he rubbed the top of his head. A beat passed, then he snickered, effectively breaking the
awkward
. “Yeah, good idea. Let’s, uh, get our phone calls out of the way and then…get to this pile.”

Preeya nodded and tore her eyes from his—again.
Text Gigi.
Yes, do that.

She keyed with
lightning-fast
thumbs—
I’m fine. In Boise, detour. Will call you tomorrow.
Still under the man’s
well-maintained
gaze, her pulse now in her neck, maybe even visible to her
one-man
audience, she was
all-and
-only thumbs—she watched the autocorrect’s necessary magic as she tried to slow her breathing down, if only a bit.

She shifted her gaze up at him as he snapped his down—to his phone. He was now actively texting, too.

Okay—
back to her device
—next, Amy.
A call, not a text. Necessary for this level of news. She shifted in her seat, squared off to the window so her voice wouldn’t carry, and sighed into making her dreaded phone call.

It rang and rang and rang—not unexpected. Amy and the rest of the bridal party would be getting ready for the rehearsal dinner—until the voice mail greeting took the baton.

“Hi! This is Amy Rine,
soon-to
-be Mrs. Amy James.” Cue the
high-pitched
squeals and giggles, and Preeya’s eye roll then accepting grin. “Please leave a message and I’ll try to get back to you before the honeymoon. Otherwise…catch ya after the fifteenth!”
Beep.

“
Ame
, it’s Pree. Just…call me back as soon as you get this. Love ya.”
Love.
Knowing Amy, neither love nor a
thirty-five
-
thousand-foot
-high
near-death
emergency would soften the blow. Preeya pictured Amy smothered by her horrid sister slash maid of honor, and her equally horrible mother, and sighed with her eyes. A connection that Amy and Preeya shared—horrendous family members—made this detour all the worse. Preeya should have buffered her trip by an extra day at least. If she had thought about—

“So, the potato capital of the world, huh?”

Preeya looked up from her phone while her thumbs paused at her virtual keyboard, unsure what to type as a
follow-up
text to Amy, anyway.

“Yes, right.” She licked her extremely dry lips and cracked a smile. “Potato capital.”

“And when we get done with this…crap…” Ben nodded at the pile, “I hear the Annual Potato Conference is going on in town. That’s why they stuck us here, at the
elegant
…Boise Inn. The real hotels are all full.” He puffed out a laugh then swallowed as awkward silence ensued.

She smiled. “I guess every great root vegetable deserves a big annual celebration?”

“Right. So, after we tear through this pile, we can maybe check it out…or…” He glanced at the papers then looked over his shoulder, “we could check out the bar instead. Maybe even before we hit the pile? A quick decompressing drink?”

Preeya raised her brows at him and tilted her head.
Who’s
this?

“I mean…I’m glad I skipped the drink on the plane…but I’d say that at least one drink is medically necessary at this point.” He leaned forward and looked over the paper pile’s horizon. “I tell ya, I’ve been in the middle of an Ebola epidemic in West Africa and a malaria scare in Nepal…but having an anaphylactic kid some thirty thousand feet up somehow trumped it for me. My nerves don’t rattle easily, but right now a shot of alcohol is doctor ordered.”

Huh. The good doctor might really be human after
all…

She shifted, both heels now on the swirly
brown-and
-green lobby carpet. “Truth?” She leaned in too. “I was scared shitless up there. And I’ve had a few incidents in the air. None involving a child, though. And that mother…I was terrified for that poor woman.”

He nodded and sighed as his hands moved to the top of his
clean-shaven
head again, as if rubbing away the anxiety of the flight—stress she’d sworn hadn’t hit him at all. Then he returned his hands to his lap. “You know, it wouldn’t have gone down as well without you there, by my side.”

“Thanks. That’s nice of you to say…but it’s a fact—that the boy
wouldn’t
be okay if you weren’t on that flight.”

“The episode might not have happened at all if
I
wasn’t on that flight…I’m the one who gave the kid my shrimp dinner—without the mother being present. It was stupid of me. Absolutely moronic.”

Though it was probably not the smartest move, it was well meaning.
He
seemed well meaning, all the way around. Maybe he hadn’t been out to impress? A true Good Samaritan? “Well, the mother did say it had never happened before, so she would’ve probably said yes if she
had
been there. And…I didn’t serve it to anyone else. Neither did Leena—she said there were only beef and chicken takers in first class. So maybe the shrimp was bad…in which case, it falls on the airline.”

“Possible. But it wasn’t his stomach. But I noticed Leena saved the shrimp leftovers in a bag for the authorities, so it’ll be examined anyway.”

“Right.” She shifted her focus to the papers. “So…though a drink sounds good, we’ve still got this to deal with in now less than two hours’ time.” She motioned to the stack. “Should probably crush it out before the great Boise Inn bar, huh?”

He smirked and nodded, then shook his head. “Can’t. I’m king of paperwork, but not even I can get through this stack without a little liquid relaxation. Not after that.”

He took his glasses off—God, she hadn’t realized how hot he looked with or without…
hush, Pree!
—and then he rubbed his eyes. She licked her lips again as he returned the dark frames to his face.

A handsome, regal, kind face.
And subtly
sexy.

He slapped his hands to his thighs, knocking her out of her
not-subtle
daze, flaring her cheeks up to wildfire temps. He seemed to graciously ignore her auto response by redirecting his gorgeous amber gaze to the infamous papers again, and then scooted forward on the chair in preparation to stand. But before he rose, he paused a beat. “Seriously, though, Preeya, I predict I’d need not just one glass but an entire bottle of something strong if you weren’t with me up there. You really do have a head for emergency situations. The kid wouldn’t have made it”—he retargeted her eyes with dire sincerity—“if it were just me, alone up there. Leena, Amanda…” He shook his head. “There’s not a doubt in my mind.” He gave a solid nod for emphasis while holding her gaze for another beat, then he stood up, steady, strong, towering over her while she stayed seated.

She licked her lips as a flood of deep…something—maybe pride?—filled and warmed her chest. His sincere words and soft smile froze her up. Speechless. And his arrogance all gone—melted away like black ice on a city street, unsure if it had even been there to start with.

He cleared his throat and held his hand out to her. “One drink. Join me. Then the forms. Please? Drinking alone…it just isn’t my style.”

She licked her cracked, dried lips a third time. A drink—and absolutely nothing else—was justified. Her shoulders, tight, her neck, cramped. Yes, she could for sure use some liquid relaxation. And a toast between them, maybe? Not to celebrate the Great Potato, but a shared victory in the sky.

She nodded as she collected her things. “If you’re buying…okay.” She snickered and took his hand. And it took her aback, how big and rough his hand was for a doctor, and how firm and dry and warm. She swallowed as she stood with his help. Meeting his gaze, she blinked a thanks, then pulled her hand away…to grasp the unruly handle of her roller bag. “It
has
been a rough, well,
twenty-four
hours, really.”

“A rough
twenty-four
, huh?” he asked with a wink in his voice as he collected the huge pile of papers in his arms and then turned toward the “bar.”

She nodded, remembering he’d been witness to her exit with Josh in the taxi line, but she gave him no reply. They’d be fellow saviors decompressing together, but nothing more, no need to share backstories. She
needed
to keep focused. On herself. By herself. For the foreseeable future. Searing amber eyes aside.