“I went to the fundraiser at Knockers last night and got home late.” Ellie omitted the fact that she’d spent the rest of the night having sex with her neighbor. “I’ll call her on my lunch break if I get one. I’m in the ER today.”
It was a slow day, slow enough that she was able to work on the SnowFest first-aid tent and spend a fair amount of time thinking about Jesse—his mouth between her thighs, his hands on her breasts, the expression on his face when he came.
“Don’t distract me. I’m busy.”
Good God!
You’re at work, Nurse Meeks.
Scolded by her inner Nurse Ratched, Ellie sorted through the volunteer forms for the first-aid tent, matching them with the CPR certifications she’d received. She was missing only one—Jesse’s. She’d left it at home on her kitchen counter.
They had a couple come in with their four-day-old baby. The poor little thing was crying and running a fever of 102.8. The doc on duty quickly diagnosed the cause—an infected circumcision. They gave him some IV fluids, piggy-backed antibiotics, and gave him oral medication for his pain and fever. Because he was so little, the doc admitted him. The mother, who was still recovering from giving birth, was clearly exhausted from being up all night.
Ellie did her best to support her. “The nurses will take good care of him. You should try to get some sleep.”
Then it was lunchtime.
She walked down to the cafeteria, sat down with her salad, and called Claire. “Hey, sis. How are you feeling?”
“Better than last night, or maybe the Percocet is working. I can tell you already that I don’t like walking on crutches or having my mobility limited.”
They talked for a while about the surgeon’s prognosis and the physical therapy regimen Claire would be starting in six weeks.
Then Ellie couldn’t hold it back any longer. “Guess what I was doing last night—or maybe I should saywhom.”
There was a moment of silence—and then Claire squealed. The sound pierced Ellie’s eardrum. She jerked the phone away from her ear.
“Oh, my God! You were with Jesse, weren’t you?”
“Yes.” Ellie had no sooner said this than she got a page from the ER. “I need to go, Claire. We’ve got an ambo coming in.”
“What? Oh, no you don’t! You can’t call me, tell me you slept with a super-hot guy, and then hang up on me.”
Ellie laughed, but the situation was serious. “I’ll call later. Love you. Feel better.”
She hurried from the cafeteria to the stairs and down to the ER.
“We’ve got two injured parties coming in—shrapnel wounds. Apparently, there was an explosives accident up at the ski resort.”
Ellie’s heart gave a hard knock.
Explosives accident at Scarlet Mountain Resort?
Handling explosives was Jesse’s job.
Chapter 12
“Can’tyou turn the siren off?” Jesse called up to Chloe Rivas, who was driving. They were making a big fucking deal out of nothing. “No one’s dying here.”
Hawke, who’d ridden up with the ambulance when he’d heard the call, pressed sterile gauze against the cut in Jesse’s forehead, his hands in sterile gloves. “We like the sirens. They make us feel important.”
He gave Chloe a nod, and she cut the noise makers.
Jesse looked over at Ben, who lay on the gurney, still pale as a sheet, an IV running wide open in his arm. “You hanging in there, buddy?”
“I’d be dead now if it weren’t for you.”
“Yep.” Jesse wasn’t going to sugar coat it for him.