“Really? That’s odd.” Carly pondered Patty’s words. “But it’s going to take more than a few strange noises to send me packing. I’ve loved this house since I was a teenager.”
Patty smiled. “I think living in a big house like that would scare me. But I’m sure it won’t be long before you find a good looking fellow to keep you warm on chilly nights.”
“Oh, Patty.” Carly laughed, and tried not to think about that “fellow” being Mike, although he was all she thought about lately. “I better get down to the E.R. Call me back if things get busy here in Babyland.”
Patty was right regarding the emergency room. They needed her. As she arrived, things were bustling due to a four-car pile-up on the interstate just outside of town. She reported in and worked steadily until well past eleven a.m. when she found a moment to grab a soda from a vending machine in the staff lounge. As she relished her first sip of the cool beverage, the break room door opened and a fellow nurse popped her head in.
“Carly, one of our patients is coding and we need someone to check a laceration in room four. Can you help?”
“Sure.” Carly didn’t hesitate. Soda could wait, patients couldn’t. Passing by the nursing station, she grabbed the chart for Room Four, and skimmed the paperwork. She noted the patient hadn’t filled it out yet, but Carly surmised the reason to be the laceration on their hand.
She opened the door to Exam Room Four.
Her patient sat upright on his gurney and grinned. “We meet again,” he said.
Carly startled, felt her knees go weak, and nearly dropped the chart. She glanced at the paperwork again, this time at the page where the Intake Nurse charted the name and vitals. “Michael Valentine”, Mike from Friday night, was her patient.
She felt color rise to her cheeks. Just stay, cool, Carly. You’re his nurse.
“Hello.” She affected her most professional manner. “You have a hand injury?”
“Yep.”
“Which one?” She stared at his gray, sweaty t-shirt, avoiding the eyes she’d be lost in.
“The one with the bandage on it,” he said, grinning. He raised his injured left hand in the air.
“Yes, that would be the one,” she agreed, trying not to smack her head against the clipboard for such a stupid question. She walked to the gurney. “Are you left handed?”
“Yep.” He smiled. She tried to ignore those beaming pearly whites. It wasn’t easy.
“Then I’ll need to fill out the paperwork for you.” She pulled a chair next to the stretcher. “And then I’ll take a look at the wound.”
“It’s going to need stitches,” Mike said. “It’s pretty deep.”
“The doctor will decide that.” She quickly bit her tongue to refrain from calling him dear.
“Okay, you’re the boss.” He grinned again. His smile nearly knocked her senseless and she needed to remain professional, but darn, it was difficult. Sitting parallel to the head of his bedside, she had a nice view of his tanned, muscular legs. He wore running shorts and worn, muddy athletic shoes. Even his sneakers seemed sexy.
She tore her gaze from his legs long enough to read the form. “How did the injury occur?”
“I was down by the lake looking for odd shaped stones and interesting pebbles. I slipped on some wet weeds and my hand landed on glass shards from a broken bottle.”
Chapter Five
Start from the beginning
