Dianne Drake - Healing Her Boss's Heart

“You don’t like dogs?”

“One thing you’ll discover about me the further into training you get is that I’m not always the most tolerant person. Fair warning. I’m good at what I do, but sometimes I’m not the nicest person to be around.”

“Any particular reason for that?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I try to keep myself focused on my work, and I’m not good with distractions. Like dogs. Personally, I like them well enough. Just not with me on a house call.”

And that was the last thing he said until he brought the truck to a stop on a winding, narrow road and hopped out. “Your supplies are behind the seat. Put them in the doggie bag, if that’s what you want to do. And stay as close to me as you can, because you don’t know the area, the path is going to be slick, and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Guess we’d better hurry,” she said, slinging her bag of supplies over her shoulder, then scrambling along after him, trying to stay close enough that she could benefit from the flashlight he shone on the trail ahead of him.

While she didn’t know much about mountain rescue yet, she did know that the last thing she needed was to be out on a mountain trail, in the cold, after dark, lost and alone. Not that he would care. Or even notice. Because, from her little corner of the world, it seemed that Jack Hanson wasn’t the type of person who got himself caught up in anything other than his work, the same way she didn’t. Which made him a perfect match for her—medically speaking.

She liked that. In fact, she got excited about it as, outside her training, she’d never worked with anyone before. Always alone on the job. With backup, of course. But the medical duty had been up to her, and there had been no one there beside her to help.

Now that Jack was practically her first partner, it felt nice. Gave her a different kind of confidence, as if, because of him, she could do more. Do better. Even the thought of watching his hands work—gentle hands, she assumed—gave her a little jolt. Competent hands. The hands of a skilled lover... No—She wasn’t going there. That was way too far. Mind on the job, Carrie, she warned herself. She had to keep her mind only on the medical and not on the other potential non-medical skills of Jack’s hands.

“What do we do when we get there? How do we get her out, since we can barely get in?” she asked, hoping he didn’t notice the smidgen of wobbliness in her voice.

“I’ve got a couple of volunteers coming in behind us, about an hour out, if we’re lucky, and they’ll help us get her back to the truck. After that...” He paused, turned to shine the light on her face. “She’s my grandmother. I’ve got an airlift on standby if she’s too bad to keep at Sinclair. Which makes her one of the lucky ones, because I can afford to do it. But there are hundreds of people living out here who don’t get that benefit. Which is why we need to get in to them better than we’re able to do now. Give them a quicker response, an earlier intervention.”

“Your grandmother lives out here alone?” That surprised her, as she’d never known anyone who lived so remotely. Even in her worst days, living in alley doorways, she’d been surrounded by civilization. But to live so far out... It wasn’t exactly an unappealing idea. A scary one, but one she might have to get used to if Jack hired her after the program was finished.

“Always has. She homesteaded the area with my grandfather, and stayed on after he died. Won’t leave. Stubborn, like you are.”

“But she gets to Marrell occasionally?”

“When she wants, which isn’t very often. She lives life on her own terms, and nothing’s going to change that.”

Like Jack? she wondered. Because he, too, seemed like he lived life on his own terms. “So, what’s the plan after we get there?” she asked, fighting hard to keep up with him as he turned back to the trail and doubled his pace. He was strong. Had huge hiking skills, the likes of which she’d never seen before. And, for the first time, she got a good sense of what he wanted out of his program. Saw the vital necessity of it.

“We’re going to stabilize her for transport. That’s all we’re equipped for right now. Get an IV going, get her on oxygen, give her cardiac meds if she needs them, and kick the wall and curse because we can’t do more.” He slowed just slightly. Not enough to make much of a difference, but enough so it gave Carrie a chance to almost catch up to him. But before she did completely, he started off again as fast and furiously as before. “And feed her cats. She’s got a bunch of them, and she’s more worried about them than she is about herself. Hope your dog is OK with cats.”

“Her name is Bella and, yes, she’s fine with cats.”

On hearing her name, Bella bounded in front of Carrie on the trail, leaving Carrie the last in line, feeling like a real slacker. Even though she prided herself on being physically fit, she had nothing on Jack Hanson, and it was easy to see that she was going to have to do better. Back in Chicago, she’d been proud of being the fittest one on her team. Here, in Marrell, she wondered if she even amounted to average.

“Well, she stays outside once we get there. I don’t want her getting in the way,” he said as he veered off the main path to the left, and totally disappeared in the dark for a moment.

“Dr. Hanson?” Carrie called out, not so much from being afraid of the dark, or being lost in it, but from the uncertainty of which way to go.

He spun around and flashed the light directly in her eyes. “Name’s Jack. Nobody’s very formal in Marrell.”

“And when we’re in class?” she asked, finally catching all the way up to him.

“Sir will be fine,” he said, taking hold of her arm and leading her off the path entirely.

Despite herself, she laughed. “You don’t have an inflated opinion of yourself, do you?” Up ahead, beyond a dense thicket of early-winter undergrowth, she could see the glowing lights from the cabin she assumed to be their destination. The house didn’t appear large, but it seemed...cozy. Something she’d always wanted for herself at some point in her life. Far, far down the line, if ever, she supposed.

“Of course I don’t,” he said, his voice full of a humor that was impossible to see in the dark. But was there, nonetheless. “But in my case, if I did, my opinion would be justified.”

Carrie laughed again, as they finally made it out of the trees and picked up speed across a lawn that was littered with snow-dusted gnomes and elves and flamingos she assumed to be pink. “You don’t bring your crown on house calls, do you?”

“My crown is always implied,” he said, as he stepped up onto the front porch, its wooden planks swathed in a dim yellow light. “As you’ll soon come to realize.” Then he opened the door. “Priscilla,” he called out, to which six or seven cats responded with a variety of meows.

She liked his sarcastic humor. It was...sexy, in an offbeat way. Kept her on her toes, made her think. She liked the way his niceness slipped in when he was trying so hard to keep it out, too. Trying so hard to be a grump. But he wasn’t grumpy. Not really. A little preoccupied, often totally focused, sometimes distracted. That really wasn’t grumpy, though. More like concerned or concentrated. Not fond of being interrupted in the moment. The way she was, come to think of it. Sometimes she would ignore someone or snap when someone interrupted her, but that wasn’t grumpy, the way Jack wasn’t grumpy when he did the same. Then there was his competence—it radiated from him. He was very calculated in what he did, didn’t waste time or effort, but he was methodical. And to her even that was sexy. In fact, the whole aura surrounding him was sexy. He was perverse, intense, maybe a little dark at times, but there was nothing wrong with that. Not personally. Not professionally. All in all, Carrie liked Jack Hanson. Not for a deeply personal relationship, since he was giving off absolutely no vibes in that direction, but maybe in a situation she would loosely define as a casual friendship. And the thought of him as her friend while she was here in Marrell—she liked that. It could work. If his crown didn’t get in the way.