Lucky in Love (8 page)

“You’re short ten big ones.”

“True, but I won’t stop until we have the rest,” she promised. “This makes sense for our community, Bill, and it’s the right thing to do.” She paused, then admitted the rest. “I’m going to be a pain in your ass over this.”

“Going to be?” Bill shook his head wryly. “Listen, Mallory, I believe in what you’re trying to do, and I want to be on your side. But let’s face the truth here—your proposed programs will bring a certain…demographic to Lucky Harbor, a demographic we typically try to divert away to other parts of the county. The town isn’t really behind this.”

“The town can be persuaded. People are in need, and HSC can meet that need.”

Bill was quiet a moment, and Mallory did her best not to fidget. She was only moderately successful.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Bill finally said. “At this week’s town meeting, I’ll give everyone a formal spiel, then ask for thoughts.”

People went to town meetings like they went to the grocery store or got gas. It was simply what everyone did. If Bill asked for opinions, he’d get them, in droves.

“If we get a positive response, I’ll consider a one-month trial run for HSC. One month, Mallory,” he said when she smiled. “Then we’ll reevaluate on the condition of the actual costs and the bottom line at that time. If you’ve got the budget for the rest of the year after that month, and if there’ve been no problems, you’re on. If not, you drop this.” He gave her a long look. “Is that acceptable to you?”

There was only one answer here. “Yes, sir,” she said with carefully tempered excitement.

“Oh, and that budget of yours better not include paying you to go to the pharmacy and pick up meds for our patients and then delivering them.”

He was referring to how she’d picked up Mrs. Burland’s meds for her just that morning and brought them to the woman’s home. How he’d found out wasn’t too much of a mystery. Lucky Harbor had one pharmacy. It was located in the grocery store, and everyone in town was in and out of that store often. Anyone from the pharmacist, to the clerk, to any of the customers could have seen her, and she hadn’t made a secret of what she was doing.

Nor had Mrs. Burland made a mystery out of how she’d felt about Mallory delivering her meds.

“
Do you expect a tip
?” she’d asked. “
Because here it is. Put on some makeup and do something with your hair or you’ll never catch a man
.”

At the memory, Mallory felt an eye twitch coming on but she didn’t let it dampen her relief. She was closer to opening the HSC than she’d ever been. “I did that on my own time.”

Bill nodded. “And if by some miracle, the town meeting goes well, how long would you need to get up and running?”

She’d had volunteer professionals from all over the county on standby all year. “I would open immediately with limited services, adding more as quickly as I can get supplies and staff scheduled.”

“See that ‘immediately’ is actually immediately,” Bill said. “And I’ll expect to see numbers weekly.”

“Yes, sir.”

An hour later, Mallory was on the ER floor, still doing the happy dance. Finally she had something other than sexy Ty to think about, because hoping for town approval and actually getting it were two very different things.

Not that she had time to think about that either, thanks to a crazy shift. She had a stroke victim, a diabetic in the midst of losing his toes, a gangbanger who’d been shot up in Seattle and made it all the way to Lucky Harbor before deciding he was dying, two drunks, a stomach-ache, and a partridge in a pear tree.

In between patients, she worked the phones like mad, preparing for a
very
tentative Health Clinic opening the following week.

The west wing in the hospital had once been the emergency department before the new wing had been built three years ago. It was perfectly set up for the clinic, easily accessible with its own parking lot. It needed to be cleaned and stocked. And she needed staff on standby. The list of what she needed and what she had to do went on and on.

When she yawned for the tenth time, Mallory went in search of coffee. As she stood there mainlining it, waiting for it to kick in—her mind danced off to revisit a certain storage room…
big, warm hands, both rough and gentle at the same time, stroking her
—

“Mallory, my goodness. Where are you at in that pretty little head, Disneyland?”

Mallory blinked and the daydream faded, replaced by the sight of her mother, who stood in front of her smiling with bafflement. “I called your name three times. And the same thing happened in the board meeting. Honey, what in the world are you thinking about today?”

She’d been thinking about the sound Ty had made when he’d come, a low, inherently male sound that gave her a tingle even now. “Dessert,” she said faintly. “I’m thinking about dessert.”

“Hmmm.” Ella looked doubtful but didn’t call her on it. “You’ve seen the paper.”

“You mean the local gossip rag masquerading as legit news?” They’d labeled Ty her
boyfriend
. Who’d run the fact check for
that
tidbit? “Yeah, I saw it.” Every person she’d come across had made sure of it.

“Honey, I just don’t think it’s a good idea to risk so much on a man you know nothing about.”

“It’s not about taking risks, mom.” And it wasn’t. Mallory had risked nothing, not really. Well, maybe she’d risked getting caught having wild sex in a public place, but she’d felt safe enough or she’d never have done it. No, for her it’d been about being selfish for the first time in recent memory, taking what she wanted. And yeah, maybe that was going to wreak some havoc on her personal life. But since when was worrying about what people thought a life requirement?

Since a long time ago. Since she’d got it in her head that she had to be good to be loved.

“Mallory, honestly,” Ella murmured, her tone full of worry. “This is so unlike you, seeing a man you don’t even know.”

Yes, Mallory, the shock. The horror. The good girl actually wanting something for herself. How dare she? “We’re not seeing each other,” she said. At least not how Ella meant.

“But the newspaper said—”

“We’re not,” Mallory repeated. Ty hadn’t said so in words, not a single one in fact, but he couldn’t have been more clear as he’d vanished.

“So you’re telling me that I’m worrying about nothing?” Ella asked.

“Unless you enjoy having to wash that gray out of your hair every three weeks, yes. You’re worrying about nothing.”

Her mother patted her brunette bob self-consciously. “Four weeks and counting. Do I need a touch-up?”

Just then, Camilla came running through, looking breathless. Camilla was a fellow nurse, twenty-two years old and so fresh out of nursing school she still squeaked when she walked. She was a trainee, and as such, got all the crap jobs. Such as signing in new patients. “He’s here,” she whispered dramatically, practically quivering with the news. “In the waiting room.”

“He?” Mallory asked.

Camilla nodded vigorously. “
He
.”

“Does ‘he’ have a name?” Ella asked dryly.

“Mysterious Cute Guy!”

Her mother slid Mallory a look. But Mallory was too busy having a coronary to respond.
Why was he here?
“Is he hurt or sick?”

“He asked for Dr. Scott,” Camilla said in a rush. “But Dr. Scott’s been called away.”

Mallory moved around Camilla. “I’ll take him.”

“Are you sure?” Camilla asked. “Because I’d be happy to—”

“I’m sure.” Heart pounding, Mallory headed down the hallway toward the ER waiting room, taking quick mental stock. She had nothing gross or unidentifiable on her scrubs, always a bonus. But she couldn’t remember if she was wearing mascara. And she really wished she’d redone her hair at break.

Ty was indeed in the waiting room. There was no noticeable injury. He was seated, head back, eyes closed, one leg stretched out in front of him. He wore faded Levi’s and a black T-shirt, and looked like the poster boy for Tall, Dark, and Dangerous. Pretty much anyone looking at him would assume he was relaxed, maybe even asleep, but Mallory sensed he was about as relaxed as a coiled rattler.

He opened his eyes and looked at her.

Inexplicably nervous, she glanced at the TV mounted high in a corner, which was tuned to a soap opera. On the screen was a beautiful, dark-haired woman getting it on with a guy half her age in a hot tub. She was panting and screaming out, “Oh, Brad. Oh, please, Brad!”

Oh, good. Because this wasn’t awkward enough. She hastily looked around for the remote but it was MIA. Naturally.

Ty’s brows went up but he said nothing; he didn’t need to. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been pouring on the charm and getting into her panties with shocking ease.

Okay, maybe not so much on the charm. Nope, he’d drawn her in with something far more devastatingly effective—that piercing, fierce gaze, which had turned her on like she’d never been turned on before.

Apparently nothing much had changed in that regard. She’d just handled three emergencies in a row without an elevation in her heart rate, but her heart was pumping now, thudding in her chest and bouncing off her rib cage at stroke levels.

He’d walked away from her, she reminded herself, clearly not intending to further their relationship—if that’s what one called a quickie these days.

The woman on the TV was still screaming like she was auditioning for a porno. “Oh God, oh Brad,
yes
!”

The air conditioning was on, which in no way explained why she was in the throes of a sudden hot flash. Whirling around, she continued to search in desperation for the remote, finally locating it sitting innocuously on a corner chair. It still took her a horrifyingly long time to find the mute button, but when she hit it, the ensuing silence seemed more deafening than the “Oh Brad, please!” had been.

She could feel Ty looking at her, and she bit her lower lip because all she could think about was that he’d made her cry out like that too.

But at least she hadn’t begged.

“I’d offer a penny for your thoughts,” he said. “But I have the feeling they’re worth far more.”

“I’m not thinking anything,” she said far too quickly, then felt the heat of her blush rise up her face.

“Liar.” He rose from the chair and shifted closer, and she stopped breathing. Just stopped breathing. Which wasn’t good because she
really
needed some air.

And a grip.

Ty leaned into her a little bit, his lips brushing her ear. “You weren’t quite as loud as she was.”

She closed her eyes as the blush renewed itself. “A nice guy wouldn’t even bring that up.”

He shrugged, plainly saying he wasn’t a nice guy. And in fact, he’d never claimed to be one.

Of course there was no one else the waiting room, but just across the hall at the sign-in desk were Camilla and her mother, neither of them bothering to pretend to be doing anything other than staring in open, rapt curiosity.

Mallory turned her back on them. “I wasn’t loud,” she whispered.

Oh good Lord. That hadn’t been what she’d meant to say at all, but it made him smile. A genuine smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and softened his face, making him even more heart-stoppingly handsome, if that was possible. “Yeah,” he said. “You were.”

Okay, maybe she had been. But she couldn’t have helped it. “It’d been a while,” she admitted grudgingly. And he’d
really
known what he was doing.

As Tammy had reminded her, Mallory’s last boyfriend had been Allen, the Seattle accountant, who’d decided Mallory wasn’t worth the commute. That had been last year. A very long, dry year…

Ty’s eyes softened, and she realized that they weren’t clear green, not even close. Lurking just beneath the surface were layers of other shades, which in turn softened
her
. He’d held her like no other, whispered sweet, hot nothings in her ear as she’d indeed panted and cried out, and begged him just like the soap opera actress. Damn, but she could still get aroused at just the memory of the strength of his arms as he’d held her through it, that intoxicating mix of absolute security and wild abandon.

“It’d been a long time for me too,” he said, surprising her. How did a guy who looked as good as he did and exuded pheromones and testosterone like they were going out of style
not
have sex for a “long time”?

On the screen behind him, the woman was still going at it, and watching her without the sound made it seem even more X-rated. “I did
not
go on like that,” she murmured, and though Ty wisely held his tongue, his expression said it all. “What, you think I
did
?” she asked in disbelief.

His gaze flicked to the screen, then back to her face. “If it helps, you looked way hotter and sounded much better while doing it.”

Oh, God. She turned away from him and was at the door before his low, husky voice sounded again. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“Walking away. You should recognize it.”

“I’m actually here as a patient.”

At the only words in the English language that could have made her turn around, she did just that. “You are? Are you sick?”

He pointed to his head. “Josh told me to come back in ten days to get the stitches out.”

Josh? He was on a first-name basis with Dr. Scott? “Dr. Scott got called to Seattle.” She let out a long breath. “But if he left the order, I can remove the stitches for you.”

Her mother and Camilla were still watching, of course, now joined by additional staff who apparently had nothing better to do than attempt to eavesdrop on Mallory and Mysterious Cute Guy. Mallory would lay odds that
this
Cute Guy sighting would go wide and be public by the end of her shift.

Nothing she could do about that. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Is it going to hurt?”

She looked at Ty, at his big, tough body, at the way he limped ever so slightly on his left leg, and then into his eyes. Which were amused.

He was teasing her.

Well, fine. She could give as good as she got. “Something tells me you can handle it.”

Eve left the Garden of Eden for chocolate.

T
y followed Mallory through the double doors to the ER and to a bed, where she then pulled a curtain around them for privacy.

In the military, Ty had learned defense tactics and ways to conceal information. He’d excelled at both. As a result, concealing emotion came all too easily to him. Not to mention, there wasn’t much room for emotion in the underbelly of the Third World countries he’d worked in. So he’d long ago perfected the blank expression, honed it as a valuable tool. It was second nature now, or had been.

Until Mallory.

Because he was having a hell of a hard time pulling it off with her. Like now, for instance, when he was relieved to see her and yet struggling to hide that very fact. Clearly not so relieved to see him, she said “I’ll be right back” and vanished.

Fair enough. As she’d pointed out, he’d vanished on her, and a part of him had figured he’d never see her again.

But another part had hoped he would.

He’d known that she worked here and imagined she was a great nurse. On the night of the storm, she’d been good in an emergency, extremely level-headed and composed.

Unlike at the auction, in his arms. Then she’d been hungry, and the very opposite of level-headed and composed. He’d loved that about her. Now she was back to the calm persona. She looked cute in her pale pink scrubs with the tiny red heart embroidered over the pocket on her left breast. He especially liked the air of authority she wore.

Hell.

He liked everything he knew about her so far, including how she’d tasted. Yeah, he’d really liked how she’d tasted. Which was the only explanation he had for being here, because he sure as hell could remove his own damn stitches.

From nearby, someone was moaning softly in both fear and pain. He stood, instinctively reacting to the sound as he hadn’t in four years. Four years of ignoring the call to help or heal.

The moan came again, and Ty closed his eyes. Christ, how he suddenly wished he hadn’t come. Unable to help himself, he stuck his head out the curtain of his cubicle. In the next bed over, a guy was hooked up to a monitor, fluids, and oxygen. He was in his early forties, smelled like a brewery, and either hadn’t showered this month or he’d rolled in garbage. His hair was gray and standing straight up, missing in clumps. A transient, probably, looking small and weak and terrified.

“You okay?” Ty asked, staying where he was. “You need the nurse?”

The man shook his head but kept moaning, eyes wide, his free hand flailing. His eyes were dilated, and there was a look to him that said he was high on something.

Cursing himself, Ty moved to the side of his bed. He glanced at the IV. They were hydrating him, which was good. Catching the man’s hand in his, Ty squeezed lightly. “What’s going on?”

“Stomach. It hurts.”

The guy’s clothes were filthy and torn enough to reveal a Trident Tattoo on his arm, and Ty let out a slow breath. “Military,” he said, feeling raw. Too raw.

“Army,” the man said, slurring, clearly still heavily intoxicated, at the least.

Ty nodded and might have turned away but the guy was clinging to his hand like it was a lifeline, so Ty continued to hold onto him right back as he slowly sank onto the stool. “I was Navy,” he heard himself say. He left out the Special Ops part; he always did. It had nothing to do with not being proud of his service and everything to do with not wanting to answer any questions. And there were
always
questions. “I’m out now.”

Technically.

“You never get out,” the man said.

Well, that was true enough.

“They should pay us for the long nights of bad dreams.” The guy took a moment to gather his thoughts. This seemed to be a big effort. Ty wanted to tell him not to work too hard but before he could, the man spoke again. “They should give us extra combat pay for all the ways our lives are fucked up.”

Ty could get behind that. They sat there in silence a moment, the man looking like he was half asleep now and Ty feeling a little bit sick. Sick in the gut. Sick to the depths of his soul. Yeah, definitely the hospital had been a stupid idea. This was absolutely the
last
time he let his dick think for him.

“I still think about them,” the man said softly into the silence.

Ah, hell. Ty didn’t have to ask who. He knew. All the dead. Ty swallowed hard and nodded.

The man stared at him, glassy-eyed but coherent. “How many for you?”

Ty closed his eyes. “Four.” But there’d been others, too.
Way
too many others.

The man let out a shuddery sigh of sympathy. “Here.” He lifted a shaky hand and slid it into his shirt, coming out with a flask. “This helps.”

Mallory chose that very moment to pull back the curtain. “
There
you are,” she said to Ty, then smiled kindly at the man in the bed. “Better yet, Ryan?”

Ryan, caught red-handed with the flask, didn’t meet her gaze as he gave a jerky nod.

“Why don’t I hold that for you, okay?” Gently, she pried the flask from Ryan’s fingers, confiscating it without another word.

Ty didn’t know what he’d expected from her. Maybe annoyance, or some sign that she resented the duty of caring for a guy who was in here for reasons that had clearly been self-inflicted. But she ran a hand down Ryan’s arm in a comforting gesture, not shying away from touching him.

More than duty, Ty thought. Much more. This was the real deal,
she
was the real deal, and she cared, deeply.

“I’ve called your daughter,” she told Ryan. “She’ll be here in ten minutes. We’re just going to let the bag do its thing, refilling you up with minerals, potassium, sodium, and other good stuff. You’ll feel better soon.” She patted his forearm as she checked his leads, making physical contact before she looked at Ty, gesturing with her head for him to follow her.

“Is he going to be okay?” Ty asked quietly on the other side of the curtain.

“Soon as he sobers up.”

“He’s on something besides alcohol.”

“Yes.”

“Does he have a place to stay?”

She gave him a long once-over. “Look at you with all the questions.”

“Does he?”

She sighed. “I’m sorry, but you know I can’t discuss his case with you. I can tell you that he’s being taken care of. Does that help?”

Yeah. No. Ty had no idea what the fucking lump the size of a regulation football was doing stuck in his throat or why his heart was pounding. Or why he couldn’t let this go. “He’s a vet,” he said. “He’s having nightmares. He—”

“I know,” she said softly, and reached out to touch him, soothing him as she had Ryan. “And like I said, he’s being taken care of.” She paused, studying him for a disturbingly long beat. “Not everyone would have done that, you know. Gone in there and held a vagrant’s hand and comforted him.”

“I’m not everyone.”

“No kidding.” The phone at her hip vibrated. She looked at the screen and let out a breath. “Wait for me,” she said, pointing to his cubicle. “I’ll be right there.” And then she moved off in the direction of the front desk.

In front of Ty was yet another bed. This curtain was shut but it was suddenly whipped open by a nurse who was talking to the patient sitting on the bed. “Change into the robe,” she was saying. “And I’ll go page your doctor.”

The patient had clearly walked in under his own steam, but he wasn’t looking good. He was a big guy, mid-thirties, dressed in coveralls that had the Public Utilities Department logo on a pec. He was filthy from head to toe, clearly just off the job. As Ty watched, he went from looking bad to worse, and then he gasped, clutching at his chest.

Oh, Christ
, Ty thought. Why the hell was he here? He should have left. Instead, he was hurtled back in time, back to the mountain, squinting against the brilliant fireball that had been a plane. He’d sat on the cliff holding Trevor in his arms, Trevor clutching at his crushed chest.

A million miles and four years later, the guy on the hospital bed groaned, dropping the gown he’d been holding. He slithered to the floor, his eyes rolling up in the back of his head.

Ty took a step back and came up against a rolling cart of supplies even as his instincts screamed at him to rush over there and help.

But the cart moved out from behind him, and he staggered on legs that felt like overcooked noodles.

Then suddenly people came out of the woodwork, including Mallory.

“He’s coding,” someone yelled.

And the dance to save the man’s life began. Someone pulled Ty out of the way and back to his cubicle, where he waited for what might have been five minutes, or an hour.

Or a lifetime.

Mallory finally came in. When she found him still standing, she gave him a sharp look. “Sorry about that. You okay?”

“The guy. Is he…?”

“He’s going to make it.” She gestured to the bed. “Sit. You look like you could use it.”

Like hell he did.

“Sit,” she said again, soft steel.

Fine. He sat. On the stool, not the bed. The bed was for patients, and he wasn’t a patient. He was a fucking idiot, but he wasn’t a patient.

“Not a big hospital fan, huh?” she asked wryly.

“No.”

She washed her hands thoroughly. “Personal experience?”

He didn’t answer, wasn’t ready to answer. Apparently okay with that, she pulled on a pair of latex gloves, then opened a couple of drawers. “Are you squeamish?”

He didn’t answer that either. Mostly because only yesterday he’d have given her an emphatic
no
. Except what had just happened to him in the hallway said otherwise.

He’d changed.

Once upon a time, nothing had gotten to him, but that was no longer true. Case in point was Mallory herself. She got to him, big time.

She lifted a big, fat needle, and he blinked.

She smiled and put the needle down, and he realized she’d been fucking with him to lighten the mood. He heard the surprised laugh rumble out of him, rusty sounding. Muscles long gone unused stretched as he smiled and shook his head. “Guess you owed me that.”

“Guess I did.” After she’d loaded up a tray with what she wanted, she came at him. She set the tray on the bed and perched a hip there as well, letting out an exhale that spelled exhaustion. “If you don’t want to sit here, I sure as hell do.”

He found himself letting out another smile. “Tired?”

“I passed tired about three hours ago.” She soaked a gauze in rubbing alcohol.

“So you’re an RN.”

“Yes,” she said. “I bought my license online yesterday.” She dabbed at the wound over his eyebrow and then opened a suture kit, which he was intimately familiar with. As a medic in the field, he’d gone through a lot of them patching guys up.

“Don’t worry,” she said, picking up a set of tweezers. “I’ve seen a guy do this once.”

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, stopping her movement.

“I’m kidding,” she said.

“Oh I know. I just don’t want you to be cracking yourself up when you put those things near my eye.”

“Actually, I’m not all that amused right now,” she said.

“What are you, then?”

She hesitated. “Embarrassed,” she finally admitted.

This stopped him cold. That was the
last
thing he wanted her to be. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said. “Pick something else,
anything
else.”

“Like?”

“Mad. Mad would be better.”

“You want me to be mad at you?” she asked, looking confused. “Why? I’m the one who said the ‘here’ and ‘now,’ remember?”

Yeah, he remembered. He’d loved it.

“And
I’m
the one who wanted a one-time thing,” she said. “No strings attached.”

“So why be embarrassed then?”

She sighed.

“Tell me.”

“Because I’d never done that before.” She lowered her voice to a soft whisper. “Sex without an emotional attachment,” she clarified. “And now…” Her eyes slowly met his. “I’m thinking I should have requested a two-time thing.”

This left him speechless.

She winced, shook her head, then laughed a little at herself. “Never mind.” She leaned in close to look at the stitching. “Nice work. Dr. Scott’s the best,” she said. “But you’ll probably still have a decent scar. Shouldn’t be too much of a problem for you, women like that sort of thing. Apparently they’ll fall all over themselves to sleep with you.”

Still holding her wrist, he ran his thumb over her pulse. “You didn’t fall all over yourself,” he said quietly.

“Didn’t I?”

“If you did, there were two of us doing the falling.”

Again, her eyes met his, and he watched her struggle to accept that. “Well,” she finally said, pulling her hand free, “as long as there were two of us.” Some of the good humor was now restored in her voice. Which meant she was compassionate, funny,
and
resilient. His favorite qualities in a woman.

But he wasn’t looking for a woman. He wasn’t looking for anything except to get back to his world where he functioned best.

She leaned in close and used the tweezers to pull up a stitch, which she then snipped with scissors. “A little sting now,” she warned, and pulled out the suture. “So what was it that you said you do?”