Love Inspired January 2016, Box Set 1 of 2 (35 page)
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Authors: Carolyne Aarsen
Dear Reader,
I loved writing this story for many reasons. Years ago a wonderful family offered me a job as a bridal consultant in their store. That opportunity laid the groundwork for long-lasting friendships and the basis for delightfully fun bridal books. I am truly blessed!
But mostly this book is dedicated to the officers lost in the line of service. Our church was hit hard by this several years ago when a wonderful young trooper was gunned down during a routine traffic stop. In 2014, 134 American lawmen and women were killed in the line of duty. I am honoring them in this series by using their first names for all of the male characters. My respect for law and order runs deep, and the loss of lives casts a ripple effect on so many.
I hope you love this story like I do, and I love to hear from readers! E-mail me at
[email protected]
, visit me at
ruthloganherne.com
or friend me on Facebook where I love to chat, laugh and pray! You can also reach me by snail mail c/o Love Inspired Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.
Thank you so much for choosing
An Unexpected Groom
, and I look forward to hearing from you!
Ruthy
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired story.
You believe hearts can heal.
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stories show that faith, forgiveness and hope have the power to lift spirits and change livesâalways.
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ISBN-13: 9781488006982
An Unexpected Groom
Copyright © 2016 by Ruth M. Blodgett
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical,
now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ⢠are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
A Second Chance at Forever
Nurse Anne Matson's structured life derails when a familiar patient enters her ERâthe ex-husband she left ten years ago. Matthew Clark is the last person she expects to see in Paradise, Colorado, especially with a nine-year-old daughter. The single dad is running the town's biggest expansion project, but one thing stands in his wayâAnne's Victorian home. When his daughter falls ill, and Anne volunteers to help with her care, Matt recognizes he's never stopped loving the spirited beauty. But how can he get her back when he plans to take all she has left...or can Anne see she has everything to gainâthe family she's been denied?
He was real, all right. All too real.
All six feet and wide shoulders worth of him. He'd loosened his tie and his hair was all mussed and all she could do was stare, asking herself the same question her friend had. Why had she left such a man?
“Give me your keys. I'll change your tire.”
Roused from her reverie, she remembered her disabled car. “I can do it. I don't need rescuing.”
“Never crossed my mind. But even you can use a little help sometimes.”
When he was done, Anne reached into the car and handed him disinfectant wipes.
Matt smirked. “A true nurse. Always prepared.”
But when he stepped closer, she wasn't prepared. Not the least bit.
Why? They were over. She had moved onâ¦to a safe life.
A lonely life
, said an inner voice.
The more she was around Matt, the more confused she became. Or was she? Actually, what she wanted became clearer. But did she have the courage to reach for it?
Tina Radcliffe
has been dreaming and scribbling for years. Originally from western New York, she left home for a tour of duty with the Army Security Agency stationed in Augsburg, Germany, and ended up in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Her past careers include certified oncology RN and library cataloger. She recently moved from Denver, Colorado, to the Phoenix, Arizona, area, where she writes heartwarming and fun inspirational romance.
Books by Tina Radcliffe
Love Inspired
Rocky Mountain Reunion
ROCKY
MOUNTAIN
REUNION
Tina Radcliffe
Be of good courage and He shall strengthen your heart, all ye that hope in the Lord.
â
Psalms
31:24
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to beta-reader Tracey Hagwood for her insightful comments and suggestions on the proposal for this book. Thank you, Maria King, RPh, for patiently answering questions related to diabetes. Thanks to Brenda at D and B House Movers in Monroe, Michigan, for being so helpful.
I'd like to add a shout-out to the Aarons in my life. Thank you, Tom Radcliffe, Tessie Russo, Michael Russo, Mary Connealy, Ruth Logan Herne, Missy Tippens, Debby Giusti, Janet Dean and Sharon Medley.
As always, thank you to my agent, Meredith Bernstein, for her support. A special thanks to my editor, Giselle Regus, who consistently challenges me to dig deeper and makes me a better writer.
Many of the Paradise series books are set in a fictional medical setting; however, the information in these works of fiction should
never be considered a substitute for seeking medical advice. All errors are wholly mine.
CHAPTER ONE
“A
nne, ambulances are en route.”
Anne Matson looked up from the tidy pile of paperwork on her desk. “Was that
plural
?”
Marta Howard, RN, stood in the doorway of Anne's office. She reached up to tuck a strand of short gray hair behind her ear. “Afraid so. Accident at Paradise Lake. At the construction site.”
Anne straightened the bud vase on her desk that held a fragrant pink rose bloom from her garden and put away her files.
“How far out are they?” She stood and grabbed her stethoscope before slipping a pen into the pocket of her navy scrubs.
“Seven minutes.” Marta winked, her severe countenance warming. “And you thought it was going to be a slow day.”
“I should have kept my mouth closed.” Anne hit the light switch as she followed Marta into the emergency department hall. “What's the extent of the injuries?”
“The first is a maleâthirty-two, in serious condition with broken ribs, upper quadrant and lower extremity lacerations, abrasions and possible internal injuries.
“Second patient is also a male, thirty-one, possible ankle fracture with minor abrasions and a head laceration. I've already paged Dr. Nelson. He's on his way.”
“Surgeon on call?”
“Daniels.”
“Notify him. Call Life Flight and give them a heads-up, in case we need transport.”
“Got it.”
As head of the Paradise ER nursing team, Anne was proud of her department, but she fully understood the limitations of the facility's trauma unit. The majority of the center's patients were the tourists that flooded the San de Cristo Mountain area and the close-knit mountain town of Paradise, Colorado, in search of seasonal recreation. Anything outside the scope of the small hospital's care would be transferred straight to Alamosa and often to Denver.
“What's going on with the patient in five?” Anne called out as Marta moved quickly to the unit secretary's reception desk.
“Discharged. I called Dr. Rogers.”
“Sara?”
“No. Ben. He said he'd stop by tomorrow with his mobile unit and check the patient's incision.”
Anne nodded and smiled. “That's why I like working in Paradise. All the efficiency of big-city medicine with the personal touch of rural medicine thrown in.”
In the distance a siren could be heard. The familiar wail grew louder as the entire fleet of the Paradise Valley ambulance company approached the glass doors of the emergency department.
An instant later paramedics slammed through the ER doors. The late July heat met the hospital air-conditioning as a paramedic called out the first patient's stats while he steered the moving gurney.
Anne slid her hands into disposable gloves. “Get this one to triage,” she directed. “The other can go to exam room two.”
Marta and two orderlies followed alongside the gurney that sped into the curtained triage area while Anne grabbed the hospital copy of the paramedic's worksheet and shoved the papers into a metal chart.
“Move him over,” Marta called. “On my count. One. Two. Three.” The first patient was smoothly transferred to a hospital stretcher.
Anne noted the dwindling contents of the IV and hung a new bag as the medics left and Dr. Luke Nelson entered the room. Everything ran smoothly when Nelson was on the schedule. Though he was new to Paradise, he was their most qualified ER physician.
“What do we have?” he asked, already assessing the patient.
“Scaffold accident.” Anne read the chart. “Probable cracked ribs. Left abdominal-penetrating laceration, along with several minor lacerations to the scalp and face. BP is eighty-eight over fifty. Pulse, one hundred. Oxygen at three liters. Pulse ox, ninety percent.”
He began a head-to-toe physical examination as an orderly sliced through the man's bloody shirt then wrapped an electronic blood pressure cuff around the patient's arm.
“Any relevant history?” Nelson asked as he peeled back the crimson-soaked abdominal dressing. He nodded to Marta and she applied a clean gauze pad.
“None noted,” Anne said.
Nelson leaned over the patient. “Mr. Seville, I'm Dr. Nelson. We're going to take good care of you.”
Seville?
The name tripped a distant memory Anne couldn't quite grasp. Frowning, she dismissed the thought.
The dark-haired man, whose upper half of his face was obscured by dirt and blood and the lower part by an oxygen mask, gave a weak shake of his head.
“Open up that IV,” Nelson continued. “I need a CBC and chem panel. And type and cross for four units. Get X-ray down here stat.”
“We've got another patient in exam room two,” Anne said. She tossed her gloves and scrubbed her hands at a stainless-steel sink before leading the way down the hall.
“Are you going to the fund-raising dinner?” Luke Nelson asked, his steps in sync with hers.
“Apparently it's expected.”
“You don't sound too enthusiastic.”
“Don't I?”
He chuckled. “Politics, Anne. You have to play the game if you want to move up the career ladder. And since the money goes to expanding the emergency department, you should be excited.”
Anne shook her head. Hospital social events were low on her list of things to be excited about. But Nelson was right. She'd have to try to be social for her career, because that was what she wanted, right? A career move; maybe even an administrative position.
Or maybe not. Lately she'd been restless for something that a promotion couldn't satisfy.
“Why don't we go together?” Luke finally asked.
She gave him a sidelong glance. “I have a rule about dating people I work with.”
“Not a date.” He shrugged. “Just going together.”
“You're new to Paradise. Let me warn you that the grapevine moves fast here. That's why I also make it a rule never to let the line between my job and my personal life blur. It's best to fly under the radar in this town.”
“Sounds like you have a lot of rules.”
Anne paused at his remark. Maybe she did. But the guidelines she'd set for herself had served her well as an unmarried woman living in a small town, and she didn't plan to detour anytime soon.
They reached the open exam room and she stopped short and handed the chart to him.
Luke flipped it open, scanned the contents and then handed the chart back to her as he moved into the small room. “Mr. Clark?” he asked.
“Matt. You can call me Matt.”
“I'm Dr. Nelson and this is Ms. Matson.”
Anne's head jerked back at the sound of Matthew Clark's voice and the chart in her hands tumbled to the floor. Her gaze snapped toward the clear blue eyes of the man she had married nearly eleven years ago.
“Anne?” His eyes widened in turn as he stared at her.
Matthew Clark sat on the edge of the exam table in a bloodstained, torn and once-white polo shirt and jeans. His shirt bore the logo of First Construction Company on the left chest area.
The ice pack he held to his head pushed back short, dark blond hair. His left foot was shoeless and encased in a temporary inflatable splint; the right remained in a muddy steel-toed black work boot.
A bubble of air became trapped in Anne's throat and she had to remember to breathe.
Matthew.
The years had only improved his boyish good looks. He looked the same, from the dimple on the right side of his mouth to the tiny scar on his chin. The same, yet somehow different. Matthew Clark was a man now.
He grimaced. Clearly the swelling and already colorful contusions on his face were painful.
“You two know each other?” Luke looked back and forth between the patient and her, stunned interest on his face.
“She's my wife,” Matt said, his voice flat and void of emotion.
Luke's brows shot up.
“Your wife?”
“
Ex
. Ex-wife,” Anne sputtered.
Her words stretched out, filling the small room with a million unanswered questions.
When Anne stooped to pick up the scattered chart at her feet her stethoscope slid to the tiled floor. Resisting a groan, she draped the stethoscope around her neck once more and gathered the papers. She read the paramedic's evaluation as she stood.
“How are you feeling?” Nelson asked his patient.
“I've been better,” Matt returned. “I didn't think I needed that ambulance ride, but they insisted.”
“Always good to play on the side of caution.”
Anticipating the doctor's needs, Anne tore open a sterile package of gloves, and offered them to him. Maybe if she focused on her job, her thoughts would stop spinning out of control.
“Thanks.” Nelson glanced at the hospital gown folded neatly and untouched next to Matt. “Ideally, we'd like you to change into that hospital gown.”
“Me? In that? Not happening in this lifetime.”
When a wicked smile curved his lips, Anne struggled not to laugh. Yes, the same old Matt. How had she forgotten his irreverent sense of humor?
The ER doc gave a thoughtful shake of his head. “We can work around it. I need to look at that scalp wound first.”
Matt lowered the ice pack from his head.
“Not too bad. A couple of sutures should do the trick.”
“You want to stitch my head?” He jerked back with surprise.
“Yes. These things bleed like crazy. Lots of superficial vessels in the scalp.”
“Do you have to shave my head?”
“No. Just trim a bit of hair near the wound. Won't be obvious.”
“Looks like I have to trust you.”
“I'd appreciate that,” Nelson said, matching his patient's humor.
“Go ahead and do what you have to do.”
“I'll get a suture kit,” Anne said.
She exited the room and leaned against the wall. Matt. After all these years? Releasing a deep breath, she grabbed a sterile suture kit from the supply cart. It tumbled from her trembling hands. Scooping it up, she turned and ran smack into Marta.
“Whoa, careful. Is Nelson in there?”
“Yes. Room two.”
With a gentle hand on Anne's shoulder, Marta peered closely. “Honey, are you okay? You look pale. Maybe you're catching that bug that's going around.”
“I'm fine.”
“Hmm. Well, can you tell Nelson that the family of the patient in exam room three wants to talk to him?”
Anne nodded, avoiding her friend's gaze.
“You're sure you're all right,” Marta persisted, her eyes probing with concern.
“I'm good.” Of course she was good. As good as she could be after seeing the man she'd walked away from after they'd said, “I do.”
Anne pushed back into the exam room. “You're wanted in three.”
“On my way.” Nelson turned to her. “Do you mind cleaning up that scalp wound? I'll be right back to suture and then we can send him up to X-ray to assess that ankle.”
“No problem.” Anne straightened her shoulders. Of course she could do this. She was a professional.
Nelson gave her a brief nod, pausing long enough to once again look from Matt to her as he exited.
“Could you go ahead and lie down, please?” she asked Matt.
“Lie down?”
Anne pulled supplies from the exam cupboards. “You're...” She cleared her throat. “You're too tall for me to reach the area.”
The exam table creaked as he moved to a reclining position. “How's Manny?” Matt asked.
“Manny Seville.”
Anne turned slowly as realization hit. “Your college roommate.”
“That's right. Manny is the site boss on the project.”
“He's stable right now. We'll know more soon.”
“Was his family notified? He has a wife and a new baby.”
Anne released a small smile. “Does he? I always liked Manny, though I have to admit I never thought he'd settle down.”
“People change.”
Yes, they do.
She pulled herself from her musing thoughts. “Our procedure is to notify immediate family. I can confirm that we had contact information when I finish this.”
“Thank you,” he said. Matt met her gaze, his expression humble. “I didn't mean to embarrass you in front of yourâ”
“Dr. Nelson is my colleague.” She pulled the rolling stainless-steel exam table closer.
When he glanced pointedly at her left hand, her gaze in turn shifted immediately to his. Large, capable hands. In a heartbeat she regretted the action. There was no need to let him know that she'd often wondered if he'd married. After all, she'd moved on with her life long ago.
Hadn't she?
* * *
Matt glanced at her name tag: Matson RN. There was zero doubt in his mind that Anne hadn't told anyone about her “unfortunate” marriage.
Of course she had neatly erased the past. He expected nothing less.
Her black-brown hair framed her face in a bob that barely kissed her chin, the long bangs swept carelessly to the side, framing her face. Her features had evolved from a young, carefree girl to a classically elegant woman. He fought hard to ignore the fact that she was more beautiful now than at eighteen.
“So, you're a nurse,” Matt said.
“Yes.”
“Just like your aunt wanted.”
Anne tensed a fraction, yet only silence ensued.
“Nine years,” he finally murmured.
“Excuse me?”
“We haven't seen each other in nine years.”
“Ten,” she said, without looking up.
The simple response was enough to shake him to his core.
“Close your eyes, please. I'm going to cleanse the area and we don't want to get any Betadine in your eyes.”
“Got it.”
Her touch was gentle as she attended to his face. With his eyes closed he could smell the antiseptic along with a whiff of vanilla. Involuntarily, his lips curved into a smile. Anne always wore vanilla lotion. Why was it that solitary lingering memory stood out, pushing open the door to an onslaught of thoughts of what could have been?