Baby, Drive South (16 page)

“Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes wide, her face mere inches from his.

Maybe it was all the reminiscing and the sentimental setting, or the fact that he’d become accustomed to having her body snug up behind him, but Porter suddenly wanted to kiss her—on purpose this time, and not under the influence of mind-bending drugs. He slanted his mouth toward hers and since he hadn’t given her a choice the first time, hesitated to see if she’d resist. Her breath escaped to brush his lips. With her eyes half-closed and her mouth parted, he was struck by how incredibly sexy the little lady doc was. Blood rushed to his midsection.

The ringing of his phone broke the moment. Nikki pulled back and stepped away. Porter bit back a moan of disappointment, then retrieved his phone to see it was the foreman on the clinic dig calling. He connected the call. “Hello?”

“Porter, there’s been an accident. Nelson’s hand is cut pretty bad.”

Porter set his jaw. “Hold on.” He looked at Nikki, who was standing several feet away. “One of the workers cut his hand.”

“Wrap it tightly with something to stop the bleeding,” she said, instantly all business. “And have him hold his hand above his heart.”

Porter relayed the message. “The doctor and I will be there in a few minutes.” He hung up the phone and moved toward the four-wheeler where Nikki was already putting on her helmet. It struck him what a comfort it was to have her around in an emergency. Kendall was right—if she left, the rest of the women would probably also leave en masse.

She helped him get settled, their movements hurried, neither one of them alluding to the near kiss. Porter was grateful for the interruption—he’d lost his head for a moment. The last thing he needed was a woman on the rebound.

He continued to berate himself on the ride down. From the wistful look on her face when he’d described his family life, she definitely wanted the entire package. And while he, too, wanted to settle down and have a family someday, he wanted to have a little fun first. In hindsight, he should’ve gone with Rachel Hutchins on the shopping trip to Atlanta and let the little lady doc get started on the forms for the Rural Health Clinic.

Behind him, Nikki’s body felt rigid and unyielding, but he reasoned she was probably thinking ahead to whatever situation waited for her at the clinic site. And she sneezed several times—the fresh mown grass and infamous Georgia pollen was getting to her. He went as fast as safety would allow and within a few minutes, they rolled onto the paved road that curved around to the clinic site. A clump of workers surrounded the injured Nelson Diggs.

But Porter’s stomach filled with dread when he saw that Doc Riley was already tending to the man.

This did not bode well.

When he stopped the four-wheeler, Nikki was off in a flash, discarding her helmet. She dispatched one of the workers to get her medical bag, and approached Nelson. Porter clambered off the ATV, grabbed his crutches and tried to catch up.

But by the time he reached the group, the lines were drawn in the sand. Nelson shunned her attention, instead holding his hand to his chest and deferring to Doc Riley, who had apparently bound the wound on the man’s palm with—were his eyes deceiving him?

Silver duct tape.

“Duct tape?” Nikki asked, her body language incredulous. “Did you even clean the cut first?”

“I put honey on it before I taped it up,” Riley said, equally defensive.

Porter winced.

“Honey?”
Nikki asked. “This man might need stitches. There could be nerve damage.” But the fact that she suddenly sneezed several times in succession broke her momentum. Porter handed her his handkerchief.

“It wasn’t that deep,” Riley said with a dismissive wave. “It was just a lot of blood.”

“I’m okay to keep working,” Nelson offered. “I’ll just wear a work glove.”

“It’s your call,” Porter said to the man. “We’ll talk later about how this happened.”

Nelson got up to return to work, and the other men followed, except for Riley. “Let me know when you need more wintergreen oil salve for your leg,” he told Porter. He tipped the bill of his work hat to Nikki and sauntered off.

The man she’d sent to fetch her medical bag came running up and handed the black bag to her. Nikki wiped her watering eyes and thanked him, but Porter could tell it was a slap in the face in light of the fact that Nelson had preferred Doc Riley’s care.

“It’s no big deal,” Porter said to Nikki. “The men are accustomed to him patching them up for minor stuff. Sweetness needs you around to handle serious medical issues.” He gestured to his cast and gave her a cajoling smile. “Riley couldn’t have set my leg.”

Nikki studied him, her expression unreadable. “I’ll get started on those forms,” she said finally. “Thanks for the tour—and the handkerchief.” She sneezed twice, then blew her nose. Then she walked over to the four-wheeler, removed the accordion folder from the storage compartment and set off toward the boardinghouse. He pondered the wisdom of sticking the two-year employment contract in the folder along with the RHC forms. Maybe he should’ve mentioned it.

“I’ll give you a ride,” he called, but she waved him off.

Porter watched her, the set of her shoulders, the angle of her chin. They were losing her. He needed to find the little lady doc some patients…fast.

17

T
he next morning, Nikki was stowing her toothbrush and smothering a yawn when a knock sounded on her bedroom door. She glanced at the dark circles under her eyes and sighed—she’d gotten next to no sleep last night, churning over the fact that her life was in limbo. Spending time with Porter Armstrong yesterday at what remained of his homestead had stirred a deep-seated longing for the kind of family life he’d described. She’d been so mesmerized that she’d almost let him kiss her, for real this time. Thank goodness fate had intervened in the form of a phone call before she’d done something that would’ve only mired her mind and body in another complication. She’d lain awake watching the moon fade into daylight before dragging herself out of bed this morning. And the nasty case of allergies that had hit her wasn’t helping. If not for the ice-cold shower she’d taken, her eyes would probably still be glued together.

She washed her face and blew her nose, then opened the door to find Susan Sosa, one of the women who’d ridden down in the van with her, standing there. Susan was a prettily rounded woman with short blue-black curls, but she looked older than her thirty years. Nikki knew from the tidbits she’d learned on the drive down that Susan’s family life had mirrored her own until college. While Nikki had buried herself in her studies and pushed through eight years of school, Susan had taken another route, getting a factory job right out of high school, spending the last twelve years on her feet in front of an automaker’s assembly line before being laid off the previous year. She’d been so animated about the move to Sweetness, she’d chattered all the way down about meeting a nice man with Southern manners.

It struck Nikki that the women were looking to her for solidarity to stay in Sweetness. And if she left, she’d be poking holes in the dreams of those who’d uprooted their lives to move here.

“Hi, Susan. What’s up?”

Susan bit her lip. “I’m sorry to bother you, Dr. Salinger, but you have a patient waiting downstairs at your office.”

Nikki raised an eyebrow. “I do? Who?”

The woman dimpled. “It’s Kenny Stapleton, the really cute guy who came to get your medical bag yesterday.”

She was inordinately pleased to hear that one of the men was finally seeking her out to be treated. “Is it an emergency?”

“No, he said to take your time.”

Nikki pursed her mouth, then grabbed her black bag, stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind her. It was probably hay fever or bug bites. If not for the extreme pollen and the Jurassic mosquitoes, she’d have nothing to tend to.

“I brought you some coffee,” Susan said, extending a steamy mug.

“Thank you,” Nikki said, taking the cup. She had a feeling the woman had something else on her mind.

Susan tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Dr. Salinger, I wondered if you could use someone to, you know, help out with patients and stuff. Like a secretary.”

“I don’t exactly have a stampede of patients.”

“I know I’m not the most qualified person, but I’ll work really hard.”

Nikki was moved by the woman’s sincerity. She realized that if one or two things had gone differently in her life, she could’ve easily been in Susan’s shoes. “I’d like that,” Nikki said, “but I’m afraid I don’t know how this is all going to work yet.” She thought of the two-year employment contract she’d found among the forms Porter had given her yesterday—subtle. “I haven’t signed an agreement with the Armstrongs, so I can’t even pay you.”

“That’s okay,” Susan said in a rush. “I just want the chance to prove myself until a real job is available. Between you and me, I’m a little bored.”

Nikki hesitated, not wanting the woman’s hopes to be dashed when she left Sweetness. On the other hand, Susan had a point—there wasn’t much to do until the town was better organized. “Okay by me, but we’ll have to take it day by day.”

Susan smiled wide. “Great. Thank you. So what can I do?”

Nikki found the key to the office on her ring and handed it to Susan. “The new patient forms are in a folder in a blue file box on a bookshelf. Get one for Kenny and have him fill out the top.”

“Okay.” Susan jogged ahead, leaving Nikki smiling at her enthusiasm. She passed another woman in the hall, Regina Watts, the recruiter Porter had mentioned. “Regina, did the group return from Atlanta last night?”

“No,” Regina said with a little laugh. “Rachel called and said they’d be back sometime today. She was hiring a delivery truck to bring everything here.”

Nikki pressed her lips together, wondering if the Armstrong brothers had yet grasped what they’d agreed to when they’d sent Rachel on a shopping trip.

“I know you’re working with the Armstrongs to recruit professionals to come to Sweetness. I wanted to mention that I asked my former boss to put out feelers for medical personnel.”

“Good to know,” Regina said. “Thanks. I have my work cut out for me. Imagine trying to convince an attorney to come here.” The woman suddenly looked stricken. “I’m sorry, Dr. Salinger. I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Nikki cut in, nixing her allusion to Darren Rocha. “Let’s talk again soon.”

The woman nodded and went on her way.

Nikki proceeded downstairs, trying to shake off the comment. It was true that attorney Darren Rocha wouldn’t be caught dead within a hundred miles of a place like this.

She frowned. Was that a good thing…or a bad thing?

When she arrived at the temporary office, Susan had found the form and a clipboard and was hovering over Kenny, who seemed pleased by her attention.

Nikki said good morning and told him to come in when he was ready.

She went inside and downed some antidrowsy anti histamine, donned a lab coat, then hooked her stethoscope around her neck and disinfected her hands. She’d never wish an illness on anyone, but she hoped Mr. Stapleton’s case, if not challenging, was at least interesting.

It wasn’t.

Nikki tamped down disappointment a few minutes later as Kenny described his infected ingrown toenail and removed his shoe and sock. She squinted. “Is that…bacon?”

He grinned. “Yeah. Doc Riley told me to tie a piece of raw bacon around my toe to draw out the infection. And it worked some—see where the bacon turned green?”

She swallowed hard. “I see.” She snapped on gloves, then unwound the offending piece of bacon and disposed of it. Kenny’s big toe was greasy and red. She carefully cleaned the area, then inserted a small piece of cotton gauze under the edge of the nail to lift it from the inflamed skin and gave him a tube of antibiotic ointment.

“Should I get another piece of bacon from the dining hall?” he asked, rolling on his sock.

She rolled her eyes. “I think it’s safe to retire the bacon cure.”

“Okay,” he said, but he looked doubtful. Why did she have the feeling he’d do it anyway, and then give “Doc” Riley the credit once the infection had run its course?

She walked him out and said goodbye, startled to see that five other men occupied the chairs in the hall. Susan was fluttering around, tending to them. She’d set up a coffee station and a folding table for herself nearby. She handed Nikki a new patient form. “Joe Griffith is next.”

Nikki smiled, reenergized to be busy and glad the men were warming to the idea of seeing a “female” doctor.

Not that their ailments were all that serious, she noted as the morning wore on. A sore back muscle, halitosis, ear wax buildup, a cold sore and…

“Dandruff?” Nikki asked, staring at the man sitting in front of her who had a military buzzcut. “You’re concerned about dandruff?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve noticed a few flakes when I comb my hair.”

Nikki gave his scalp a cursory examination, then handed him a tube of lotion.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Sunscreen. You don’t have dandruff—your scalp is peeling from a sunburn. You might try wearing a hat.”

“I will. Thanks a bunch, doc.” And he continued to thank her as he backed out into the hall. “You’re the best doctor ever.”

Nikki gave him a tight smile. She was starting to get the feeling that something was up, especially when she walked out and saw four more men sitting in her “waiting room,” all offering toothy smiles.

“Business is booming!” Susan said, her cheeks flush with excitement.

“So I see,” Nikki said, then held up her finger. “I’ll be right back.” She took off down the hall, following her last patient at a discreet distance. He exited the boardinghouse, then he looked all around and ducked into a copse of shade trees just off the path. Nikki followed, picking her way as quietly as possible and slowing when she heard voices.

She parted the branches of a bush and saw Porter Armstrong a few yards away sitting on the ground, his back against a wide tree trunk, his crutches lying nearby, talking to Dandruff Man, who stood over him nodding. Then Porter removed a roll of cash from his shirt pocket, peeled off a couple of bills and handed them up to her “patient.” When the other man walked away, Porter looked pleased with himself, pulled a bill cap down over his eyes and slouched back against the tree.