Julie Miller - Riding the Storm

“Nice speech,” drawled Mitch. “But I still don’t want you driving that far out into the county by yourself. The weather’s unpredictable right now, and you’re not exactly in the best condition to go gallivanting across the countryside.”

“Dad! My condition doesn’t make me stupid.” Jolene didn’t know whether to smile or frown at his flare of old-fashioned chauvinism. Opting for her most indulgent smile, she cradled the curve of her belly. “We’re in perfect health. I’m done with morning sickness and nap attacks. The pregnancy is progressing fine. Nothing’s going to happen to me or Junior just riding in the truck.”

He shook his head. “You and I both know that’s not the problem. With you, it’s never just a ride in the truck.”

“Lily’s waiting, Dad.”

“Can I help?” Mr. California wasn’t content just observing her business, he had to butt in.

Bristling at the intrusion, she glanced over her father’s shoulder. “No.”

But Mitch angled himself to include Kellison in the discussion, ignoring her dismissal. “A friend of Jolene’s is stuck out at her ranch. Just went into labor with her fourth baby.”

“Fourth?” Kellison’s eyebrows rose. “The baby could come fast, then. Within a few hours.”

Jolene backed toward the door. “Exactly. I’d better get going.”

Mitch stopped her. “Honey, why don’t you stay and man the phones until Ruth gets here.”

“Dad—”

“I’ll go.” Kellison’s statement was directed at Mitch. “I’ve been trained to deliver babies under a variety of conditions.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “You’ll need Cheryl and Amy here to handle the more serious patients as they come in. Your daughter can stay in the office.”

Of all the annoying, arrogant… Jolene planted her empty hand on her hip and squared off against the visiting paramedic. “Do you know the way to the Rock-a-Bye Ranch, California?”

“It’s Nate.” He turned to her father. “You got a map?”

“I know the way,” she insisted. “We’re wasting time discussing this.”

Oh, no. She could read the decision on her father’s face.

“You’re right about needing the doctor and trauma nurse here,” Mitch said. “You go with her, Kellison.”

“Dad—”

“He’s a trained paramedic.”

“Which is why you need him here,” she argued. “For real emergencies. I can handle this and be back in no time.”

“Listen, young lady. What I need right now is to not worry about you or Lily Browning. Kellison goes with you, or you stay put.”

Father and daughter glared at each other. But the silent battle of wills didn’t last for long. Once Mitch Kannon dug in his heels, he couldn’t be budged. And as much as she loathed the idea of being assigned a baby-sitter while she made a routine call at a friend’s house, Jolene didn’t want to cause her father any additional worry when she knew he had a whole county and hundreds of additional evacuees to protect.

“All right.” Watching the worry ease from her father’s expression made agreeing more tolerable.

He hugged her and kissed her goodbye. “Be sure to call in and keep me posted.”

“I will. Love you.”

He winked. “Love you.” Then he released her and grasped Kellison’s shoulder. “You’ve got the most important job in the county, as far as I’m concerned. Keep my little girl safe.”

“Dad—”

“Yes, sir.”

“Chief?” Doyle Brown called from the end of the hallway. He pointed to his watch. “You said to keep an eye on the time?”

“Let me know if Lily finally gets her girl,” Mitch ordered over his shoulder as he hurried back to the main room. The phone rang in the dispatch office as he passed by. “And so it begins,” he muttered, just loud enough for Jolene to hear. “Doyle! Come answer this phone.” She watched her father disappear around the corner and take command of his audience once more. “All right, boys and girls, let’s get down to business…”

Nate Kellison pulled a blue ball cap from his back pocket and slipped it into place over his head. The letters CBFD, embroidered in white, stood out in sharp contrast against the dark material. Neat and tidy and in control. Lordy. Wasn’t this going to be fun?

His fingers brushed against her arm. “Shall we?”

Feeling betrayed by the heat that rushed to her elbow in response to his touch, Jolene headed toward the door. But she didn’t get a chance to escape.

Kellison pried the med kit from her hand and reached around her to open the door. Jolene spun around, narrowly avoiding bumping into his chest. “I’m not an invalid. I can take—”

Her words stopped as abruptly as she had. He wasn’t an extraordinarily tall man, maybe six feet, like her father. But up close like this, with her eyes mere centimeters from his chin, his arm circling around her without quite touching her, he seemed much bigger, stronger than his lean build would indicate. Her pulse tripped a beat. She stood close enough that her nose could detect he wore no cologne, no aftershave. But the clean, distinct smells of soap and man addled her thinking long enough that she didn’t finish her sentence.

“I’m sure you can,” he answered for her. “I’m just following your father’s orders.”

Her gaze was automatically drawn to the tense line of his lips, which softened as he spoke. But the air outside the open door gusted, blowing a fine mist against her skin. The chilly dampness took the edge off her indignant temper and cooled the sensation of heat radiating from his body into hers.

Jolene backed up a step and tilted her chin. “Why don’t you like me, Mr. Kellison?”

She reached out to retrieve the med kit, but his grip tightened around the handle and wouldn’t budge. “I don’t know whether I like you or not, Jolene. I don’t even know you.”

She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms. “And yet you keep looking at me with the judgment of Solomon in your eyes.”

“Do I?”

“Yes. And it’s very disconcerting.”

“Then I’ll quit looking.” Jolene’s heart raced as he stared at her for an endless moment, searching her face as if—as he’d promised—this was to be his last look and he wanted to remember every ordinary detail.

Finally the scrutiny was too much and she lowered her gaze to the triangle of white cotton T-shirt that showed beneath the unbuttoned collar of his uniform. “Mr. Kellison. You’re staring again.”

She was suddenly aware that her lip gloss had gone the way of her roll and milk. She hadn’t taken the time to put on any other makeup that might give her some semblance of feminine beauty. The maternity overalls she hadn’t fully grown into hung like a sack from her shoulders, hiding what little figure she did have.

Still, the intensity of his look made her think he saw something else in her. Something that made her wish…

Jolene started as he tapped the point of her chin with one blunt fingertip and urged her gaze back up to his. But there was nothing romantic or even reassuring in the familiar gesture. He just wanted her attention.

“My mistake,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “I’ll haul. You drive.”

The imprint of his touch remained when he pulled away. He glanced over his shoulder as he turned and strode out into the rain. “And it’s Nate.”

THE JUDGMENT OF SOLOMON?

Hell. Just what had he revealed in his unabashed study of Jolene Kannon-Angel? Those true blue eyes of hers were pretty hard to ignore, especially when they were focused his way. Nate thought he’d sensed trouble, and his instinct had been to find the source, to do what he could to help.

And then…well hell, even when she turned on that attitude, it was hard to look away. He’d dated prettier women, made friends with decidedly less-complicated ones. But Jolene…?