Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Ugh. It's now, or never.
“Ready,” I say, nodding, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves. “Tell him he's welcome to come in.”
The world goes freakishly silent again. June steps out and mumbles a few words to our little patient and big daddy. I study Quinn listening, just like me, his heavy footsteps coming closer, scraping the floor.
I try to remember the million things and then some I've heard about the man our town calls the Castoff.
He's cold.
He's dangerous.
He's crazy.
He's an asshole, and also a hell of a mechanic.
He's six feet something of pure muscle, ink, and hot rage.
He gives what little warmth he has left in his snowball heart to his little girl.
Supposedly.
He's infamous.
He freaked out and punched my older brother in the face in the middle of the town's Fourth of July parade.
He's...holy shit, he's here. Standing right in front of me.
And he's handsome, too. As sinfully gorgeous as any man with his sterling blue eyes, scowling jaw, and roughed up five o'clock shadow can be at nine o'clock in the morning.
“Come in, have a seat, and we'll take her from here, sir!” Quinn smiles, reaching for the tiny hand belonging to the adorable little creature next to him. Marshal gives her a death glare before slowly passing his daughter over, and – Jesus – is that a growl lingering low in his throat?
“It's okay, honeybee. It'll be over soon. Just listen and be brave,” he tells her, following her across our space.
“Hi, sweetie!” I try to be nice without looking fake, showing my biggest pearly grin. Quinn helps the little girl into the seat in front of me.
I touch her arm and immediately notice the heat through my glove. Fever. “Oh my, you're burning up. Promise I'll make this fast, okay?”
I'm up. I grab my supplies and go to work.
One step at a time. Mechanical. Just like I learned in class, taking extra care to rub extra numbing agent on her arm.
She inhales sharply as I tie the rubber band, grab my vacutainer with the long-tipped needle, and slide it into the tube.
Papa Bear speaks again, his voice a low boom. “Eyes on me, honeybee. Daddy's got you. This won't hurt for long. She'll make it fast if she knows what's good for her.”
Don't look at him.
Easier said than done with his eyes blazing into my soul, but I do my damnedest not to return Papa Bear's angry glance. He stands on her other side, her free hand in his, possibly the most freakish contrast between big crazy and tiny innocence ever.
Everyone watches me except the little girl. I can't blame Quinn. She signs off on the trainee worksheet with my hours and a performance review, bringing me closer to my certificate.
I'm always being tested.
I can't screw this up.
“Okay, sweetie,” I whisper softly, feeling for a vein one last time. “There. Big breath, please.”
I wait for her little lungs to fill before I prick her skin.
She's amazingly well behaved as the small tube slowly turns red. The draw lasts somewhere between thirty seconds and a minute. I'm grateful every second I don't have to deal with a scared, shrieking child. I got lucky.
I ease the needle out, apply gauze, and top it with a grinning cartoon cat bandage. “Feel better soon. We'll have the results over to the doctor, quick as we can.” I look up, acknowledging the beast next to her directly for the first time.
“Take your time. Just do it right,” he rumbles.
Huh? Not the response I was expecting. Neither is the look he's giving me.
I can't decide whether the Papa Bear moniker actually fits. Sure, he's huge and over-protective. But the blue eyes piercing through me are more like a wolf's.
A fearsome, all alpha, take-no-crap-from-anyone pack leader.
“Nice job, honeybee. We'll make cookies once you're feeling better. Chocolate chip.” He lifts her up and pecks a quick kiss on her forehead.
Next to me, Quinn is completely melting, going doe-eyed. I don't know what the hell I'm feeling.
It's surreal watching the local freak being all tender and lovey-dovey. Maybe my ovaries are just cold, or I'm in too dark a place to be easily impressed. Who is he fooling, anyway?
“First time she didn't cry. Congratulations, Red.” His otherworldly gaze pins me against my seat.
“For real?” I hate how it rushes out, a hushed whisper, like I'm flattered by his praise. “Well, thank you.”
I won't let the compliment go to my head. I don't care how good he looks or how civil he thinks he's being.
Then his eyes grow colder. “You misunderstood. I'm saying it's a goddamned miracle she didn't cry after your hack job. I've seen medics in combat zones with steadier hands than yours.”
“Sir, she's a student,” Quinn cuts in, a nervous blush on her cheeks. I can't tell if she's shocked or furious. “Watched her myself the entire time, and her procedure was well within standard parameters. I apologize sincerely for any discomfort, but –“