Take Me Again (22 page)

Straightening the collar of her medical jacket, she stepped inside. “I'm sorry. I thought you were alone.” A variety of reasons why she might want to see him ran through her mind, but none of them seemed to work.
Think
. There had to be something they needed to discuss.

"No need for apologizes.” A grey eyebrow rose. “Junior was just leaving."

"But, Dad—"

"No,” he said sharply, the finality in his tone obvious. “It's a losing venture. Besides you look like you need to ice those.” He glanced down at his son's crotch and then pulled his gaze toward her. “Your doings?"

Heat burned her face. Her mouth opened to respond but nothing came out. Like an idiot she just stood there.

"Fuck this,” Zach growled, striking her shoulder with his as he pushed by her.

Dr. Zimmerman shook his head, a father's frustration shown in his concerned expression. “Close your mouth, dear.” He limped around the big mahogany desk and took a seat.

She blinked, snapping her mouth closed. “Sir, I—"

He held up a hand. “Let me apologize for him.” He inhaled and then slowly released the air in his lungs. “Are you okay?"

Lord have mercy. This must not be the first time Zach had accosted someone in the office. She was dumbfounded, searching for something intelligent to say, but the only thing that came out was, “Huh?"

Dr. Zimmerman eased back in his chair. “He's a little reckless, especially when it comes to women and Dolan. Those boys have been at each other since they were kids.” Silence stretched between them. His scrutinizing stare a little unnerving. “So, did you patch things up with Dolan?"

Fuckfuckfuck
. He knew about them?

She licked her lips. Her backbone straightened. “I'm not sure what you're talking about.” The lie stuck in her throat.

He stared at her a moment longer. “I'm old, not blind. Not much goes on around here that I'm not privy to.” He paused before adding, “Besides I was standing around the corner. Saw each of you exit the supply room. Didn't take much to put it all together."

Tracy's stomach rolled. She was going to be sick. Everything she'd worked for was slipping through her fingers. “I'm so sorry. I'll tender my resignation immediately."

He slammed a palm against the desk, making her jump. “The hell you will.” He paused. His voice softened when he spoke again. “Dolan needs someone like you. The boy's lonely and misguided."

Lonely? Misguided? Were they talking about the same person?

"He's a good man.” Dr. Zimmerman's expression was weary. “Solid. Just a little wild. He needs a woman who can tame him."

Tame him? She didn't want a man who needed tamed. She had responsibilities, goals. What was she thinking getting involved with him? “I'm not the one."

Dr. Zimmerman rubbed his chin. “He must think so or he wouldn't be so upset."

"His pride was bruised. He'll get over it.” But could she? Could she see him every day and not yearn to touch him—kiss him?

Yes. She didn't have a choice.

He pushed his chair further beneath the desk. “We okay?"

"What about your son? I don't want any problems with him.” No way did she want to fight the man every time they crossed paths. Next time he laid a hand on her she would emasculate him.

"You won't. I've asked him not to come around the office. Boy has caused enough problems.” Sadness rimmed his eyes.

"Then we're good.” A weight lifted from her shoulders, but she still felt exhausted from the day's events. “My schedule is clear. If you don't mind I think I'll call it a day."

Dr. Zimmerman nodded. He looked fatigued as he turned his attention to a report on his desk. Without another word she let herself out.

Standing on the other side of the closed door, she leaned against it. She could do this—she had to. Opportunity like this didn't knock every day. What happened between her and Dolan was in the past. Resolve in place, she pushed away from the door and headed for her office. As she reached for the doorknob, Courtney came around the corner, out of breath.

"Dr. Marx, Dawn's Break caught her leg in the rungs of her corral. I can't get Dr. Crane on his cell phone."

Tracy didn't think twice before releasing the door. “Let's see what she's done to herself."

Courtney led the way outside. As they turned the bend, Tracy saw Kerry holding the sorrel's halter. The filly's nostrils flared. Her eyes laden with anxiety as she danced around.

"I think she's more scared than hurt,” he offered, fighting to control her. She stomped her injured leg, digging her hoof into the dirt. “Doesn't appear to be broken. But I don't know how long she had been tangled in the fence."

A light sheen of perspiration blanketed the horse's neck. The pungent scent mingled with the smell of fear. Tracy eased toward the skittish horse, jerking against the man's hold.

"Easy, girl.” She hummed, growing closer. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dolan approaching. Her attention was stolen for just a moment, but long enough that she didn't see the horse break Kerry's hold or twist and kick out with her hind leg.

It happened so quickly. Pain splintered in her head. Her feet ripped out from beneath her as darkness swallowed her up.

The breath in Dolan's lungs froze. The horse spun and kicked, her sharp hoof slamming into Tracy. Her head snapped backward, hair flying in all directions. As her feet came off the ground and she soared through the air, he hit a dead run. Landing with a sickening thud, she didn't move. Courtney released a high pitch scream. While in the background he heard Kerry struggling to get the horse under control.

Tracy's beautiful hair was matted with blood, covering her face as he fell to his knees beside her. Carefully, he brushed the hair from her eyes and the wound that bled profusely. The acrid scent was heavy in the warm air. A chill shook him.

He tried to remain calm, but his heart was pounding erratically, chest taut. It was a struggle to breathe. “Courtney, call 911.” The young girl was rooted where she stood. Her eyes were panic ridden. “Courtney,” he yelled.

She startled into action, running towards the facility.

Dolan's first instinct was to jerk Tracy into his arms, but he didn't dare move her in case the impact had caused a neck or spine injury. Instead he placed his hand against the wound, hoping to stop the flow that continued to leak between his fingers.

Kerry drew nearer, careful to keep the nervous horse away. “Is she okay?"

Helplessness pulled at Dolan like a drowning man forced deeper and deeper into the depths. His stomach rolled as he continued to check her vitals. His hand shook so badly, he fumbled to find a pulse. “I don't know.” For a moment, he couldn't find the beat. He released her wrist and placed his fingers to her throat. Panic like he had never felt before iced his veins as he sought a palpitation. Her face was unnaturally pale. Pressing lightly on the artery just below her jaw, he felt the faint beat.

Dawn's Break whinnied and stomped her hoof. “Pen that damn horse and get me a blanket,” Dolan barked. The last thing they needed was for Tracy to go into shock.

Time was elusive. Seconds seemed like minutes, minutes like hours that ripped at his heart. “Wake up, darlin'.” The sound of running footsteps tore him out of the daze that had gripped him. Courtney had returned, joined by the rest of the staff, including Doc Zimmerman.

Leaning on his cane, he asked, “What happened?"

Emotion lodged in Dolan's throat as he tried to respond but couldn't. She had to be all right. If only she'd wake up. He needed to see her turquoise eyes.

"Oh.” Her weak moan was the most wondrous sound he'd ever heard. Relief rushed over him like a warm breeze. She raised her arm and started to sit up, but he restrained her with his free hand.

"Be still, honey. You've been hurt."

"Hurt?” Her voice was slurred. Her eyes remained closed.

Kerry smoothed a horse blanket over her as Courtney handed him a handful of sterile bandages. He used them to apply pressure against the wound as the technician began to tell Zimmerman what had happened. By the time she finished, the cry of sirens rose. Shortly afterwards the flash of red and blue lights appeared over a hill.

As the fire truck came to abrupt stop, four firemen jumped from the vehicle. One carried a large first aid kit; another held a backboard and head immobilizer.

A tall blond man began to don latex gloves as he knelt beside Dolan. His nametag identified him as Sturgen. The fireman gave him a warm smile. “We'll take over. What happened?"

As Dolan explained the incident, Sturgen took Tracy's vitals. Another fireman removed the bandage and examined the wound. Ripping open several packages of gauze pads, he reapplied pressure against the wound while a third fireman immobilized her neck and head.

"Can you tell me your name?” Sturgen asked.

She wedged her eyes open when one of the firemen inserted an intravenous line. “Is all this necessary?"

"Darlin', answer his question.” Dolan gripped her hand tightly. She frowned as if she would refuse, yet she conceded.

"Dr. Tracy Marx."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. His little redhead was proud of her title. Sturgen looked toward him for confirmation.

He nodded.

"What day is it, Dr. Marx?"

"Wen—No it's Thursday."

Sturgen asked a couple more question and thankfully, she answered them clearly and correctly.

"Can you take this thing off my neck now?” she grumbled, reaching up to tug it as pain twisted her expression.

"Not until a doctor has examined you,” Dolan answered before Sturgen could. She could have a concussion, internal bleeding. She wasn't coming home until he knew she was well.

"It's not n—"

"Don't argue with me. You're going to the hospital,” he stated firmly. Releasing her hand, he pushed to his feet. Her precious blood was all over his hands and even his jeans and shirt. As the firemen loaded her onto the backboard and then into the back of their vehicle, he made a quick call to her uncle to let him know what happened.

As he climbed into the back of the emergency vehicle, Doc Zimmerman said, “I'll have one of the staff drive your truck to the hospital. You'll call as soon as you know something?"

"Yes.” He had completely forgotten about how they'd get back home. The doors closed and he turned to find her staring at him.

"Why are you here?” she asked.

"Because it's where I belong.” He leaned forward and kissed her softly.

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The rest of the day was spent on one test after another. Night came and went. Each time a nurse woke Tracy, Dolan was there watching intently. Yet as her eyelids slid open this morning, the recliner he had been sitting in was empty. Disappointment seeped into her bones. Had it been her imagination? Had she dreamt his presence? She touched the bandage on her forehead and winced. Clearly the accident had been real as was the sterile hospital room she glanced around. The only dash of color was the beautiful flower arrangements that sat about.

Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. She couldn't believe she was in this situation. What did the doctor say? A mild concussion and eight stitches. Luck had been on her side. A chill slid up her spine, remembering the ill-fate her sister had met.

"Sheldon,” she whispered, tossing back the sheet and blanket. There was so much she had to do. He was arriving on Saturday. Lord. That was tomorrow, if today was Friday. Plus she needed to check on Ice Princess and what about the office? Attempting to rise, she stopped midway when she heard the door open.

"Auntie!” Her chest tightened at the sound of her nephew's small voice, but how? She couldn't believe her eyes as the auburn-haired three-year-old bounded through the door. Suddenly he came to an abrupt halt. Frowned and pointed to her head. “Owie."

He looked so cute. She couldn't help laughing which made her wince once more.
Owie
was right. Pain splintered to the very roots of her hair. She inhaled, pushing aside the discomfort. “How did you get here?"

Dolan stepped through the door. “I picked him up at the airport."

What? He knew about Sheldon?

"Your mother is here, too.” He stepped further into the room as Sheldon ran up to the bed.

"Mom?” she choked. Tears misted her eyes. The old saying that a daughter was never too old to need her mother was true. She bit her bottom lip, trying to restrain emotion as Lois Marx entered.

Her mother was an older picture of Shelly and it made Tracy's chest constrict. Even Sheldon had their dark auburn hair and eyes like a chameleon that changed with the color of their clothes. Today her mother's eyes matched the army green shirt she wore with slacks. Sheldon's were more golden against his orange shirt.

In a scolding but relieved tone, Lois said, “Don't you ever give me a scare like that again.” She moved forward and took Tracy into her arms.

Burying her face into her mother's shoulder, she inhaled the light scent of roses. “I'm sorry, Mom."

"Oh, honey.” She gave her a little squeeze. “As long as you're well."

The bed moaned as Dolan set Sheldon atop it and he scrambled into their arms for a group hug. She kissed his forehead. “Have you been a good boy for Nana?"

"Yep,” he chirped and then grew solemn. “Do it hurt?"

Tracy nodded.

"I sorry.” Sheldon was such a sweet child. It was easy to love him and she had missed him so much, her mother too. A wave of homesickness overrode the ache in her head. Maybe it was time to go home. She fought the weepiness that swept over her.

From the corner of her eye she saw Dolan watching them. There was a heart-wrenching sadness on his face, reminding her that he had lost his family when he was very young. What was he thinking? Why had he retrieved her family when Uncle Carl could have? Why was he here?

"Thank you,” she mouthed toward him as she pulled Sheldon into her lap. Her mother backed away as Dolan approached.

"How are you feeling?” Fatigue, or was it worry, showed in his eyes. His ebony hair looked like it had been finger combed this morning. He needed a shave, but he was still the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on.