Chapter 2

2

“Hold your head still and follow my finger with your eyes, please.”

Simon completed his neurological triage on his eleventh patient in the last two hours and stifled a yawn. He entered notes quickly on his laptop. Sixty-one-year-old male. No signs of concussion or other injury. Blood pressure fifteen hundred over?—

Simon frowned and deleted one of the zeroes. Focus, Simon .

Oxygen levels normal.

“Okay, thank you.” Simon closed the laptop and smiled. “Please have a seat in the waiting room again, and someone will be with you as quickly as possible.”

“That’s it?” the man demanded. “What about all that smoke I inhaled?”

“Your oxygen levels are healthy, and you’re not experiencing any?—”

“Don’t you tell me what I am or am not experiencing.” He waggled a finger in Simon’s face. “I could be asphyxiating right now!”

Simon took a deep breath. “Sir, if you were suffering from asphyxiation, your chest would be rattling, you’d be panting, and you’d have trouble speaking.”

“Now listen to me. I’m not leaving here until I see someone. A real doctor, not a kid.”

“I understand your frustrations and your fears.” Simon kept his voice low and level despite wanting to shout some sense into the man. “Here.” He pulled up a few comparison charts on his laptop and turned the screen to his patient. “These are your numbers in this column here, and these are the healthy range for someone your age. I checked each of these twice, and you’re fine.”

“But my blood pressure?—”

“You’re upset, and you’re scared. That’s edging it higher, which is to be expected. You will be seen by a doctor. Tonight. Please understand that waiting is a good thing right now. You’re not in so much danger that you need to be rushed to the front of the line.”

He really could understand why the man was so upset. Waking up at three in the morning to a sky painted blood orange with fire and smoke? Scary enough. Even worse, the man was likely used to being overlooked by doctors. Simon wouldn’t overlook him. But he couldn’t hold his hand, either.

The man grumbled, visibly deflating.

“Tell you what. If you’re worried, I’ll check your blood pressure again in thirty minutes.”

The man opened his mouth and raised a fist.

“ Sooner if you start feeling woozy.” Simon pulled out his phone and set a timer, showing his patient the numbers ticking down.

“Yes. Well.” The man cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

Simon shook his outstretched hand and held the door for him.

After the patient left the triage room, Simon took a swig from his bottle of heinous blue energy drink and shook his head, forcing his exhausted body back into gear.

How many hours had he been here? He calculated backward. Seventeen. Not counting the three hours of sleep he’d gotten at home. Maybe, if he actually pursued an MD…

No. Don’t think about it.

Healing Saints Hospital was renowned for extended schedules that ran its staff into the ground. But their tuition reimbursement program more than made up for the demands of the job… once you were admitted after two years working for them. Only one year in, Simon struggled to balance courses with his work life. Thus far, he’d scraped by, but it had meant pushing himself to the outer limits of fatigue.

Like tonight.

Patients had started pouring in three hours earlier, and Simon and half a dozen other off-duty Emergency Room nurses had been pulled in, along with several more nurses drawn from other departments. Apparently, a fire had broken out in the Pine Barrens the night before and had burned for a few hours before anyone noticed. Forty campers arrived within an hour, with more still trickling in.

Simon poked his head out to the main desk and waved to another one of the nurses, Anya.“Any more punishment for me?”

Anya pushed her thick, black-framed glasses up her nose. “I have a special one for you.” She walked around the desk and beckoned Simon to follow her.

He groaned.

“Quit your whining.” She tossed her pigtails behind her shoulders. They made her appear younger than her twenty-six years, but the tone of her voice offered no room for complaint. “The only reason I have you on triage is because I love you.”

“No, you do it because no one else has the patience to deal with this many pissed-off people without personally making their priority level ‘life-threatening.’”

“Okay, so maybe I have two reasons.”

Simon’s snort morphed into another yawn.

“Don’t fall asleep yet. An ambulance is on its way in with two injured firefighters.”

“ That’s your treat for me?”

Anya’s eyes met his, all joking vanishing from her face. “One’s a parent.”

Simon’s blood ran cold, and for a half second, he was ten years old again, scared and alone in the beeping, crowded emergency room, while his parents…

“Thanks, Anya.” She was one of the few people who knew about that day.

His mind cleared instantly, and he found his purpose, adrenaline pumping through his body on full blast. With quick efficiency, he helped Anya prep IV bags, turn on machines, and lay out equipment, each task bent on keeping another child from losing their parents.

Dr. Thorne, a black man in his late forties with salt and pepper hair, arrived to adjust the bed to his preferred height and line up his instruments for intubation.

Right on schedule, the ambulance arrived.

Two EMTs rolled a gurney through the doors, with an unconscious white man in firefighting clothing already hooked up to an IV.

“Twenty-three-year-old male,” Nicole, one of the EMTs, informed them in an emotionless voice. “Went missing from his team for approximately ten minutes. Probable concussion. Unresponsive, sluggish pupils to the right.”

Simon rounded the gurney and grabbed one edge of the sheet, wincing when he saw the burns on the man’s young face. “On my count. One, two, three.”

He and Anya lifted the unconscious man, transferring him to the table.

“Visible injuries?” asked Dr. Thorne.

“No bruising. Head intact, blood pressure?—”

“Wait, where’s the other patient?” Dread seized him. So many possible reasons for the second firefighter to be absent. None of them good.

“I’m not a patient.” A lilting voice emanated from a corner of the room, carrying over the overlapping beeps of the cold machinery around them.

The owner of the voice stepped forward, and Simon’s pulse slowed. He swallowed.

She was stunning .

Tall and lithe, she had an oval face and fawn complexion, with a pert nose and a small, full mouth. Silky black hair had been braided to hang over her shoulder, but whisps danced around her high cheekbones. She arched one elegant eyebrow at Simon, every pore in her body oozing comfort in her own skin.

Simon had always been attracted to confident women, and this one seemed as if she’d never doubted herself a day in her life. Yes please.

“According to your boss, you are.” Nicole’s voice snapped him back to the present. “Blood pressure one seventy over one hundred. Heart rate?—”

“My boss isn’t here now.” The woman’s cool disregard for a moment of emergency bristled irritation up Simon’s spine. Beauty, apparently, did not come with compassion.

Simon snuck another peek at her in between checking IV levels and prepping a needle to draw blood for tests.

“You’re not my patient.” Thorne addressed the woman without looking at her. “Just please tell us what you can about this young man here.”

“He shouted something about a drop off, screamed, and stopped responding.” The woman answered in clipped tones, counting off fingers as she listed the events. She glanced at the man in front of Simon, then down the hall leading back the way they’d come, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She scratched the back of her neck, and Simon swore quietly.

Fidgeting could mean any number of things in his line of work. But coupled with irritability and paranoia, it often meant addiction. The fact that she’d been able to run through the forest with another firefighter across her back and no facial coverings set off alarm bells.

Thorne nodded. “Let’s get him in for an X-ray. Anything else?”

She shook her head. “No. If that’s all, I’ll be?—”

“Not so fast.” Simon stepped in front of her before he could think better of his actions. Her gaze turned frosty, and the room temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. Simon would have bet money icicles formed on the tip of his nose. “Dr. Thorne, I’ll take over her triage.”

“Thank you, Simon,” Thorne responded, heading out with Anya and their patient.

The woman turned on her heel and marched down the hall.

“Where are you going?” Simon followed her.

“Out,” she said without turning around.

Figures that the only patient I want to see tonight doesn’t want to stay .

“Not so fast. We were told two injured firefighters were arriving.”

“Your boss said I’m not a patient.”

“He said you’re not his patient. You’re mine now.”

She chuckled. “You wish.”

You have no idea. Her confidence made him want her even more. But he wouldn’t bait her now. “You could be more hurt than you realize, and when your adrenaline wears off, you’ll find yourself back here.”

“Unlikely.”

“You really wanna do this?”

“Absolutely.” She mock saluted him.

“Okay, fine. Let’s play it your way.” Let her go. But he couldn’t. Something about the way she held herself told him she’d fight through anything to keep up her tough front. He wouldn’t let her injure herself further because she was too stubborn to accept help. “Here’s what happens next. First, I call Nicole, the EMT you met earlier, who seems to know your boss. Second, after she gives me his name, I find his phone number and call him personally to tell him you refused care.” He knew he had her attention when she stopped walking, posture stiffening. “I also warn him to keep an eye on you and your nervous twitch?—”

She whipped around, standing in front of him before he even saw her move. She was about two inches shorter than his six-foot-three height, and the way her gaze flicked sharply up his body, her lips pursed, he guessed she didn’t like being shorter than him. He didn’t need her even more pissed off, so he stepped back, reducing the few inches difference and hopefully making her more comfortable.

“You really don’t want to blackmail me,” she said.

This time, it was Simon’s turn to laugh.

Her eyebrows shot into her sooty hairline. “I’m warning you?—”

“My Chinese grandmother raised me from the age of ten, and I work in an ER with belligerent people every day. You don’t even rank on my intimidation scale.” He deflated as a thought occurred to him. “Look, if you’re worried about insurance, I can?—”

“I can take care of it.”

“In that case”—he opened the door to an empty triage room and gestured to the exam table—“have a seat.”

Her nostrils flared, and he swore a tiny wisp of actual smoke drifted off her head. She narrowed her eyes and stepped closer. She smelled of incense, like burnt flowers that captivated his senses. He had the sudden urge to slide his fingers through her hair and kiss her.

It must have registered on his face because she swallowed and leaned forward just a little bit.

What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never once thought about kissing a patient. But he’d never once felt so achingly attracted to one, either.

He took the hand reaching for her hair and placed it lightly on her shoulder. “You might have to be tough to work with an alpha male fire crew, but not here. I won’t tell anyone you let me make sure you’re safe.”

She blinked rapidly and stepped back, shedding some of the rigidity in her posture. Without a word, she sat on the table, paper crinkling underneath her.

Feeling more in control with some distance between them, Simon bit back a smile at his small victory and surreptitiously moved a few of the pokier instruments into drawers.

“I’m Simon, by the way. What should I call you? Or would you prefer I think of you as Pissed Off Patient Number Twelve?”

“Only twelve?” She snorted. “I thought you were a pro at this.”

“That’s just today. Are you currently experiencing any pain, Patient Twelve?”

“Just in my ass.”

God, that wit. “Then I’ll just take your temperature first, how’s that?” He held up the remote forehead thermometer. “I won’t even need to touch you.”

“That’s a shame.” Her voice came out extra breathy, and Simon almost dropped the thermometer.

“All in good time.” Back off. Flirt with her when she’s not your patient anymore. As soon as he pressed the button, it beeped and flashed red with the word HI and no number. “Huh.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Simon shook the thermometer and tried again. It flashed red with the word HI . “This one’s usually very reliable.” He took his own temperature. Green light and ninety-seven point nine. Patient Twelve leaned forward to examine the thermometer with him. He tried one more time on her with the same results.

“I guess you’re too hot. Hang on, let me get another one.”

He retrieved a second one from a cupboard and reached into his pocket, pulling out a highlighter, tape, a few cotton balls, and finally, the alcohol swabs he needed. This time, nothing would mess up his readings.

“That’s quite the collection you’ve got.” She eyed the pockets of his scrub pants with one eyebrow raised. “Keep anything else in there?”

“Plenty,” he promised with a wink. He held the new one to her forehead before he could say anything else wildly inappropriate. “Okay, let’s try this again.” Ninety-eight point nine.

“Green. I can go now, right?”

“You can’t leave me that easily. Now I take your heart rate.”

“And what should that be?”

“Normal is sixty to eighty beats per minute, but professional athletes have heart rates between thirty and forty beats per minute. Let’s see where you fall.”

He held her wrist and began counting as he watched the second hand tick on the wall clock. “Interesting.”

“Your vocabulary gets more limited the more confused you get.”

God, she could be a stubborn jerk. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was purposefully controlling her body’s automatic functions to achieve the target numbers on purpose. Impossible. But this woman? She would if she could, he had no doubt.

I really need sleep.

“Are we d?—”

“Stop asking. I’ll tell you when I’m done with you.” She sucked in a breath but didn’t say anything as he grabbed a cuff and slipped it on her arm. He really hoped that little throaty gasp was from his phrasing. “Before you ask, I’m expecting your blood pressure to be somewhere around one hundred over seventy. Again, there’s a range. Relax.”

She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Simon waited until she seemed settled, then pumped up the cuff and waited to hear her blood in her artery. When he released the pressure completely, she arched one elegant brow at him, eyes still closed.

One hundred over seventy. Couldn’t be.

“Well, you…” He trailed off when she opened her eyes. Completely clear and focused, they tracked his movements perfectly, with no signs of concussion. They pulled him in, their color a heady mixture of cool forest, mint, and hunter greens. The combination struck his memory like a bell, loud and clear but dimming quickly. “Do I know you?”

She arched one eyebrow in annoyance. “Seriously? That’s why you?—”

“No!” Simon felt color rising in his face. “I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just having the worst case of déjà vu right now, and I thought… have you taken any trips recently?”

“Are you trying to ask me to go somewhere with you?”

“What? No. I just…” He wrinkled his brow, reaching for the impression that had seemed so clear only seconds before. “I apologize. I’m sure I saw you on an airplane or something.”

She folded her arms across her chest, revealing a more toned physique in her lean frame, and smirked. “I don’t fly commercial.”

So, she comes from money. But then why work as a firefighter in one of the most grueling squads?

Patient Twelve shrugged and grabbed the bulb on the blood pressure cuff, inflating it until it resembled a balloon fidget toy. “I bet you could have a lot of fun with these. Do you ever…?” She touched her tongue to her upper lip and waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“Actually yes, just before you came in.” He let his voice drop seductively and pointed to the cuff she held. “With that one.”

Color rose in her cheeks. Was she picturing it? Picturing him ?

He shouldn’t have crossed the bounds of an appropriate medical professional, but it was so hard not to try to push the buttons of the mysterious firefighter with the figure of an Amazonian warrior and the personality of Genghis Khan. He could barely breathe with her so close.She took up all the space in the room.

And more than he wanted to admit in his mind.

Simon completed the rest of the examination without a single red flag. She was entirely healthy. But…

“I’d like to run a few more tests.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why?”

He blew out a breath. “I won’t lie. So far, you’re perfect. Blood pressure, blood oxygen, heart rate… all consistent with a person with your level of physical activity.”

“I told you. Do I seriously look injured to you?”

Simon sat back. “Your face is covered in soot, there are burn marks on your shirt, and by your own account, you ran with an unconscious man across your back for nearly a mile with no helmet or protection from the smoke. And that’s before we get to your jitters in the other room.”

“It’s called ‘adrenaline.’”

“Not everyone ‘looks injured’ in the same way. It doesn’t matter how tough you are. I still want to make sure you’re okay.”

Her nostrils flared again. “I’m fine. Just show me where to check out.”

He waved her off. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Seriously? After all that?”

“It’s not like I can’t find you if I need you. You work for the fire department. And I told you. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

She stood and brushed past him as she headed for the door, gifting him with another whiff of her, this time like cinnamon and frankincense. It lingered, and Simon inhaled deeply, reaching for the memory that had begun to form when he’d looked into those green eyes of hers.

Nothing.

He shook his head. “I need more sleep.”

Still, he couldn’t shake that nagging itch of familiarity, the feeling that with just one more piece of the puzzle, he’d remember her in an instant.