Just Kate: His Only Wife (Bestselling Author Collection) Page 25
“Hi, Mandy.” Aubrey smiled at the little girl in her father’s arms, clinging to both him and a velveteen pony for dear life. In a cheery voice, she said, “I bet you don’t remember me. You couldn’t have been more than two when we met.”
Mandy answered by burrowing her face in her father’s shirt.
“Don’t be shy,” Aubrey cooed and moved closer.
“I hate shots,” came a muffled reply.
“Want to hear a secret?” Aubrey uttered the last part in a conspiratorial whisper. “So do I.”
One eye peeked out and peered at Aubrey. “But you’re a nurse.”
Aubrey shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I like shots.”
The eye went back into hiding.
“You know what?” Aubrey was acutely aware of Gage as he passed by. She tried her best to hide the current of sensation winding through her. “Because I don’t like shots, I’m real gentle when I give them. The patients at the hospital took a vote, and they said of all the nurses, my shots hurt the least.”
The eye reappeared. “Is that really true or are you just making it up?”
“Well…” Aubrey scrunched her mouth to one side and squinted. “A little of both, maybe.”
The eye crinkled, and Aubrey suspected Mandy might be enjoying the teasing. She pivoted to face Gage, who was unlocking the clinic door.
“You have a key to this place?”
The dead bolt gave, and he pushed open the door. “Yeah, the volunteer fire department works closely with the clinic.”
Aubrey supposed that made sense. Just like she supposed Gage had received some EMT training.
“You understand I can’t dispense antibiotics to Mandy without Dr. Ferguson’s consent?”
“Give me just a minute.” Gage walked into the clinic and went straight to the phone sitting on a scarred metal desk that was more junk than antique. He referred to a list of phone numbers taped to the desktop and dialed.
Aubrey stowed her purse on the counter. “Let’s see about that foot.” She gestured toward the narrow examination table.
The little girl was loathe to leave the sanctuary of her father’s arms. He finally got her to sit on the table but not without a fuss.
Aubrey bent down to inspect Mandy’s foot. “I promise I won’t touch you, sweetie, unless you tell me it’s okay. Agreed?”
Mandy nodded, her mouth compressed into a tight bud.
“All right, hold your foot up so I can see it.”
She complied and, after more coaxing, allowed Aubrey to remove the bandage.
Halfway through her examination, Gage got Dr. Ferguson on the line. “He’ll talk to you.”
Aubrey went over to Gage and took the phone from him. His fingers lingered on hers far longer than necessary.
“H-h-hello, Dr. F-Ferguson.” She gripped the phone tight to counteract the sizzling effects of Gage’s touch.
“Hello, Aubrey. I wasn’t expecting to speak to you again so soon. How’s your grandmother doing?”
“She’s better.” A brief update on Grandma Rose gave Aubrey a chance to compose herself. Afterward, she filled in the doctor in Mandy.
“Give her some cephalexin.” He told Aubrey where the prescription medicines were stored. “Would you mind writing up a short report for me before you leave and putting it on the desk?”
“Not at all. Thank you, Doctor.”
“Thank you. This has been a great help to me.” For once his voice was warm. Almost friendly. “I’ve no right to ask but would you perhaps consider volunteering at the clinic one or two afternoons a week? I could really use someone with your skills.”
“I…” Aubrey’s refusal stuck in her throat.
In all honesty, she missed practicing nursing. Treating minor injuries and checking sore throats might not compare to the fast-paced environment of Tucson General’s E.R. and the addictive rush of adrenaline, but she’d no doubt enjoy herself. And heaven only knew the shabby little clinic could use a strong administrative hand.
From the corner of her eye she watched Gage talking to Chase. Could she handle something else that would put her in close contact with Gage? Doubtful. Nor did she need more ties to Blue Ridge—ties that would be hard to cut when the time came to leave.
“Aubrey?” asked Doctor Ferguson.
“I’m sorry. I got sidetracked.” And how. She swallowed before speaking. “As much as I’d like to volunteer, I’m afraid I can’t. I’m leaving the end of the month and would hate making a commitment only to break it.” She noticed Gage watching her and averted her head. Hadn’t she done as much to him when they were young—made a commitment and then broke it?
“I understand.” Doctor Ferguson’s voice was once again clipped. “If you change your mind, give me a ring.”
“I will.”
Aubrey disconnected after saying goodbye. Expelling a long sigh, she spun around—and found herself nose-to-chest with Gage. When had he moved? Bracing a hand on the edge of the desk saved her from losing her balance and falling straight into him.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, giving her not one spare inch of space in which to maneuver.
“Fine.”
“You sure?”
It was obvious he wanted to ask her about her conversation with Doctor Ferguson, and he might have if not for Mandy.
“Am I gonna get a shot?” Huge, worry-filled eyes pleaded with Aubrey.
“No, sweetie. I promise.” Aubrey reassured her with a big smile. “And no stitches, either. But I’m going to have to wash your foot real good and put some medicine on it that might sting a little.”
The little girl hugged her stuffed pony to her like a shield.
Aubrey sympathized, wishing she, too, had a shield to protect herself from the man standing in front of her.
Chapter 8
Gage flung the spark-plug wrench he’d been using into the toolbox at his feet, swore in frustration and contemplated what kind of trade-in value he could get on the old tractor. Forty-five backbreaking minutes in the sweltering sun and he still hadn’t figured out why the worthless piece of junk kept stalling out.
Yeah, right. Who was he kidding? The Raintrees could barely afford a new wheelbarrow much less a new tractor.
Climbing onto the front wheel, he leaned down and poked around the engine for the umpteenth time, hoping to identify the problem before his knees and his patience gave out.
He had his right arm buried up to his shoulder in the bowels of the engine when his cell phone rang.
“Great,” he growled, straining to reach a loose wire that hopped about with a life of its own. “Who could that be?”
As he reached around with his left hand to unclip his phone from his belt, it suddenly hit him how much he sounded like his father.
The thought took him aback. Way, way aback.
Before he could answer his phone, the radio on his belt emitted a series of tones. Instantly, Gage’s heart rate accelerated to Mach speed. He hopped off the tractor wheel and, listening to the radio, sprinted to the house.
By the time he reached the back porch, his phone had stopped ringing. Ignoring the number on the caller ID, he called dispatch.
“We have a fire,” the voice said upon answering his call. “Seventeen miles northwest of Saddle Horn Butte.”
“Where do I report?”
He was given the various details of the fire and the meeting location for his crew. Not bothering to stop for a pencil and paper, Gage committed the information to memory as he tore through the kitchen, gathering his keys and wallet. Anything else he needed was stored in a metal container in the bed of his truck. Within minutes, he was behind the wheel.
He didn’t make it to the end of the driveway.
His father hobbled toward him from the side yard, hollering and waving his arms. “Where are you going?”
Gage slammed to a stop and rolled down the window. “There’s a fire,” he called out. “I just got the call.”
“What about the tractor?”
“And when exactly will that be?”
“I don’t know.”
“You can’t just leave.” Joseph reached the side of the truck. He was panting slightly. “We need the tractor to move those boulders blocking the lower access road.”
“The access road’s been blocked for months. Another few days won’t make a difference.”
“Kenny Junior’s coming tomorrow to help dig post holes for the new fence. He can’t get his truck past those boulders.”
“Not now, Dad.” Gage started to roll up the window.
“Hold it right there, young man.” Joseph jabbed the air with his index finger. “Your first duty is to this family. Fighting fires is something you can do in your spare time.”
“And when do I ever have any spare time around here?”
Countless trees and brush were being destroyed while Gage and his father argued. Possibly summer homes and recreation sites. Ranches and grazing land by the acre. Gage couldn’t wait any longer. He let up on the brake, and the truck rolled forward.
“I’ll call when I have a minute.”
“You leave now, you might as well not come back.” Joseph’s scowling expression could have been carved from stone.
“Is that an ultimatum?”
“Yes.”
“Whatever.” Gage was in no mood for idle threats.
“I mean it this time, son.”
Did he? Gage didn’t think his father was any more serious than the last two times he’d issued similar warnings.
But Gage was—serious as a heart attack. He wasn’t just a firefighter these days, he was up for promotion to crew leader and not about to ignore his increased responsibilities.
“Be careful about giving ultimatums, Dad. You might not like the answer you get.”
Joseph’s jaw went slack, then clenched.
Gage peeled out of the driveway and barreled down the road. More than one rabbit and lizard saw him coming and executed a mad dash for safety.
At the main gate leading into the Raintree Ranch he met up with Hannah who was returning from the college. He debated stopping to chat with her and decided he had thirty seconds, and thirty seconds only, to spare.
She shoved open the gate, the rusty mechanism objecting with a high-pitched squeal. “You were going fast enough.” She walked over to lean on Gage’s open window. “Where’s the fire?”
“Northwest of Saddle Horn Butte.”
“Oh, wow!” Her face registered shock. “I was just kidding.”
“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Sorry to dump everything on you.”
“Don’t sweat it.”
“Dad’s in a bitch of a mood.”
“What else is new?”
“He’s mad because the tractor’s still not working.”
“I’ll get Kenny Junior to look at it when he comes out tomorrow.”
He had no doubt Kenny Junior would move a mountain for her if she so much as batted an eyelash at him.
She rapped the side of his truck. “You get a move on. We’ll be fine.”
“Thanks, sis.” Some of the weight on his shoulders lifted. “I appreciate you taking care of things while I’m gone.”
“Hey, it’s cool. That’s what family’s for.” She waved him off. “You be careful, you hear?”
Gage hit the gas. A glance in his rearview mirror told him Hannah was already in her car and on her way home. Good. If anyone could cajole their dad out of his bad mood, it would be her.
He didn’t realize until he reached the highway that Hannah had never before offered to handle things for him while he was at a fire. She was usually too caught up in her own little world to think beyond personal wants and wishes.
Maybe his younger sister was finally growing up.
And if that were the case, his life might have just become a tiny bit easier.
*
“You should really have that looked at by a doctor.” Aubrey laid an ice pack on the Hotshot’s knee. The joint was swollen to half again its normal size. She’d had to cut a hole in his pants to get at it. “You probably tore a ligament.”
He lifted the ice pack and inspected the soft bulge where his kneecap should be. “I’ll be fine.”
Aubrey had insisted he elevate the injured leg and used one of the metal folding chairs in the community center as a prop. She handed him two ibuprofen and a bottle of water.
“Take these.”
“You have anything stronger?”
He was in pain, she thought, and not nearly as tough as he tried to appear. “Not here and not without a doctor’s orders.”
“It’s okay.” He downed the tablets. “I want to be clearheaded if they call us for another shift.”
She gave him a wet washcloth, and he used it to clean his face and hands. The rest of him would have to wait. With one bathroom and twenty Hotshots wanting to shower, he had a good two hours to kill before his turn came.
“You’re not thinking of going back to the fire?” Aubrey asked, not quite believing her ears.
He lifted one shoulder in an indifferent shrug.
“Put too much pressure on that knee and you could cause permanent damage to the ligament.”
“It’s just a sprain.” He dismissed her concern in favor of a plate of spaghetti, courtesy of another volunteer.
Aubrey shook her head in dismay.
She’d treated a dozen Hotshots for minor to moderately serious injuries in the last two days and not one of them even remotely considered calling it quits. They were either raving lunatics or the bravest individuals she’d ever met.
“Hey, Aubrey,” her friend Eleanor called. “Can you run next door to the Wash-o-matic and pick up that last load of laundry?”
“Sure.” It would be her fourth trip of the day. Aubrey would hate to count the number of bath towels, dishtowels, bedsheets, rags, tablecloths and assorted clothing she’d washed and folded.
As she crossed the large room to the main door, her gaze gravitated toward the TV, where a reporter was broadcasting live a few miles from the fire. Smoke filled the sky behind her, a swirling, billowing mixture of white and gray. The news, however, was encouraging. At last report, the fire was sixty-five percent contained. Experts predicted it would be ninety-five percent contained by morning.
So, why hasn’t anyone heard from Gage?
When Aubrey showed up at the community center the day before with a food donation, she told herself it was the neighborly thing to do. It was the same excuse she used when she returned that morning and then stayed all day. In truth, she’d been hoping for information on Gage, who’d been gone three days without a single word.
She tried not to concern herself. After all, Gage was an experienced firefighter, and they’d been receiving regular updates on his crew via radio transmission. At least, that’s what Kenny Junior told Aubrey earlier when he dropped off some planks to finish the handicap ramp.
And it wasn’t like she and Gage had a relationship or anything. They were friends. Period. Friends and former spouses.
So, did former spouses go around kissing each other like they were crazy in lust?
No point denying it. She had kissed him, wanted to and did it. Gage might have egged her on, but he hadn’t coerced her. Not by a long shot. What must he be thinking? One minute she’d told him they needed distance in order to avoid problems when she left town. The next minute she was kissing him like she couldn’t wait to jump naked into bed with him.
Aubrey grabbed the empty laundry basket and trudged out the door into the deepening light of early evening. The Wash-o-matic was a short hop, skip and jump from the community center. Just far enough to work up a sweat.
While dumping clean laundry from the dryer into the basket, she asked herself, not for the first time, why she’d returned to the community center, not once but twice, and why she was doing exactly what she’d told the Sierra Nevada captain she wouldn’t—namely, help out.
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The answer, she knew, had as much to do with being useful as it did with finding information on Gage. Aubrey missed her job, plain and simple. Though an entirely different environment, there were similarities between a busy E.R. and the community center.
Both hummed with excitement and energy, not to mention that they both existed in a state of constant tension. The highly trained and dedicated staff members were united in a common purpose: bringing comfort and relief to the people who walked through the door. Aubrey may have been a stranger to most people in the room, but she felt right at home, and they sensed that about her.
Was that the reason Gage and the other Hotshots fought fires? Did they have the same desire—no, compulsion—to help those in need as Aubrey and her coworkers?
Maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe she did understand what motivated Gage. But nursing didn’t usually require one to risk their life on a regular basis as firefighting did.
She stood, slamming the dryer door shut. Where was Gage? Why didn’t he call? Balancing the basket of clean laundry on her hip, she made her way back to the community center.
In her absence, a mud-splattered minibus had parked near the front entrance of the community center. The last of its occupants, a man wearing brown pants and a navy blue T-shirt, slipped through the door. Aubrey’s step faltered. Those were the colors of the Blue Ridge Hotshots. Had Gage’s crew finally returned?
Running while carrying a full laundry basket proved cumbersome, but Aubrey didn’t drop so much as a sock. Not that she would have stopped to pick it up.
Inside the community center, she quickly scanned the new arrivals, searching for Gage. Her chest heaved, and her temples pounded. From the back and side, all the Hotshots looked alike; their damp hair mussed, their clothes rumpled and every inch of them streaked with grime and soot.
Aubrey wove her way through the large room, her eyes going from one to the other. Smiles greeted her. Not one, however, belonged to a familiar face. Damn! Where was Gage? The emblems on the navy blue Tshirts identified the firefighters as Blue Ridge Hotshots. His crew. He had to be with them, didn’t he?
She went up to the nearest one, moving the laundry basket to her other hip. “Excuse me. Did Gage Raintree come back with you?”