Susan Mallery: Unexpectedly Expecting!

He hadn’t thought of that. “Good thing we’re going back to the office, then,” he said. “People will look for me there.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could say anything, a pickup truck doing at least fifty rounded the corner. The vehicle nearly went up on two wheels. The driver spotted them and started honking, then slid to a stop in the center of the road.

“Doc, Doc, you gotta help!” An old man climbed out of the cab and raced around to the bed of the truck. “My boy. He’s cut real bad.”

Stephen was already running toward the tailgate. He climbed up and registered that Nora had followed.

A man in his late twenties lay stretched out on several blankets. His skin was blue-white, his eyes closed, and there was blood everywhere.

Stephen heard a faint moan from beside him, but couldn’t spare her a glance. “Where is he cut?” he asked.

“On the upper arm, by his shoulder,” the old man said. “I put pressure on it but the blood wouldn’t stop.”

Stephen saw the wad of bandages and lifted them. Blood spurted. He shoved the cloths back in place. There was no way to tell how much blood the man had lost. Too much, for sure. He was already in shock.

Stephen looked at the old man. “Drive,” he commanded. “We’ve got to get him to my office. Now!”

The father complied, hurrying to slide behind the wheel. Stephen opened the first aid kit he’d carried back and dug out several thick bandages. He replaced the soaked ones with a fresh one and ordered Nora to press down hard on the open wound.

The truck bounced through the center of town and screeched to a halt in front of the medical offices.

“Don’t move,” he instructed Nora as he jumped down and ran inside.

Less than a minute later he returned with two IVs—O negative blood and saline. When he had them hooked up, he traded places with Nora.

“I’m going to have to sew him up,” he said, looking at her for the first time since he’d climbed in the back of the truck. She was nearly as white as his patient. “Can you help me?”

She nodded, then swallowed. “I need about thirty seconds first.”

For what? he wondered. But before he could ask, she scrambled out of the truck, ran to a nearby trash can and threw up. As promised, in thirty seconds, she was back at his side.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“No, but that doesn’t matter. I’m not going to pass out and if I have to puke again, I’ll do it over the side.”

She pulled on the gloves he passed her, then listened while he explained the procedure. When he handed her more bandages and an irrigation solution, she gamely did as he instructed. She had to pause to throw up again, but otherwise was as calm and efficient as Nurse Rosie herself.

It was dark by the time the ambulance had pulled away to take the man to the hospital. Nora leaned against the wall of the medical office and told herself to keep breathing. At least her stomach had settled in the past couple of hours. She hadn’t thrown up so much since a bout with the stomach flu three years before, and frankly she could happily go a lifetime without having it happen again.

But despite feeling weak and shaky, she was also proud. Even though her medical training consisted of knowing how to apply a Band-Aid, she’d been able to help today. She’d aided her community in its time of need.

She looked at the now-dark Snip ’n Clip and thought about going over to put everything to right in the shop. Electricity had been restored around five, so she could sweep and vacuum and…She sighed. Not tonight. She was too tired.

“How do you feel?”

She looked up and saw Stephen Remington walking toward her. He’d removed his blood-spattered coat along with his tie. Before she could answer, he touched her forehead, then reached for her wrist and took her pulse. What was more annoying than him touching her was the way her heartbeat seemed to flutter slightly at the contact. Okay, the man was a halfway decent doctor, she thought grudgingly. That didn’t give him the right to examine her.

“I’m fine,” she said, pulling free of his fingers and summoning a weak excuse for a glare. “Say thank you and move along.”

“Thank you,” he said. “But I’m not moving along. You haven’t had anything to eat today, and what you ate this morning is long gone.”

“In more ways than one,” she said, smiling in spite of herself.

“My point exactly. So let me express my gratitude in a practical way. Let me buy you dinner.” He pointed to the diner open at the end of the street. “I’ve sampled most of what they have on the menu. It’s not half-bad.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “Thanks for sharing that but you do realize that I was born in this town and that I’ve lived here all my life? Chances are I’ve eaten at the diner more times than you, so I don’t need your commentary on the menu.”

“Why are you so crabby? Must be low blood sugar. You need food.”

He put his hand on the small of her back and urged her forward. Amazingly enough…she let him.

She had not been thinking, Nora thought in disgust as she and Stephen Remington were led to a booth at the rear of the Lone Star Café. Normally the diner was full for breakfast and lunch, but fairly empty for dinner. However, with half the town still not having electricity and the diner being on the “have” side, families had come in to get a home-cooked meal and to talk about the tornado. Which meant there were plenty of interested parties to watch her sit down across from the doc and to make whispered comments that just happened to drift across the entire restaurant.

She made sure she took the seat that put her back to the crowd so she wouldn’t have to watch their intrigued expressions. She sighed. There wasn’t much to do in Lone Star Canyon but talk about the neighbors. Despite a couple of spectacular exceptions, she’d managed to stay out of the limelight. Tonight that had changed.

“Why the heavy sigh?” Stephen asked as he picked up a menu. But rather than studying the list of offerings, he gazed at her, as if her answer was the most interesting thing he was bound to hear all day.

“People will talk,” she said shortly. She didn’t have to look at the menu. She ate here enough that she could practically recite it by heart.

“About the tornado? Why not? Things like that don’t happen all that often.”

She was willing to admit he was reasonably good-looking and he’d worked hard to save several lives. She’d heard that he was a nice man, not that she was interested or looking, but he had to be about as thick as a board.

“Not the storm,” she said, wishing Trixie would hurry and take their order, or even better, that she hadn’t agreed to dinner in the first place. “About me being here with you.”

“Oh.”

There was a wealth of meaning in that single syllable. She wasn’t sure what, but she didn’t like it.

“Yes, oh. I don’t want the entire town speculating about my personal life.”

“Because…” His voice trailed off.

She leaned forward and lowered her voice. She also spoke slowly so he could understand her meaning. “Because people might think we’re on a date.”

“I’ve heard that you don’t date much,” he admitted. “In fact I was informed that better men than me have tried and failed in that department.”

“I do not appreciate being spoken about behind my back.”

“As you weren’t in the room it would have been difficult to have the conversation in front of you.”

“You could have not had it at all.”

He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I didn’t start it, someone else did. I simply participated.”