Finding Chris Evans: The 9-1-1 Edition (10 page)

She’d screwed up. She’d pushed her luck too far. She’d taken one too many stupid risks. It was one thing to risk herself. It was another to risk another person. Especially a person who was here because he loved her and trusted her when she said she knew what she was doing.

Dammit.

“Take care of him,” the man demanded, frowning at her.

Britt shook herself, then took in a deep breath and blew it out. Okay, she could do this. She had to do this. She forced herself to focus.

She pricked the boy’s finger. He didn’t even flinch, which indicated that he was used to the procedure. A few seconds later the glucose monitor showed her a dangerously high number. She reached toward Chris for the supplies. He handed them off, their gazes colliding. Britt worked on not crying. She did everything she could to communicate how much she loved him and how sorry she was through that one look. “I’ll get this IV started,” she said to the father. “But there’s only so much we can do here. He has to get to the hospital. We’re only about ten minutes away.”

“Just do it,” the man said.

Britt prayed for steady hands as she focused on starting the IV. The sooner the boy was stable, the sooner the man would put the gun down. She really needed that gun off of Chris.

She talked softly to the boy, explaining what she was going to do and that it would make him feel better. He squirmed as she inserted the needle, but didn’t protest much and Britt again thought that he was probably used to needles. Diabetes was a horrible disease, especially when it afflicted children, and the needles and poking involved was only a part of it.

Britt didn’t know if the clock over the cash register was truly the loudest clock on the entire planet or if she was imagining the heavy, echoing ticks as the seconds went by, but her nerves seemed to wind tighter and tighter with each one. Finally, after what seemed like a year, but had really been less than a minute, the IV was in and running. Britt hooked the bag to a high shelf with a big plastic clip and sat back on her heels.

“That’s it,” she said.

“He’ll be okay now?” the man asked.

Britt shook her head. “We won’t know anything until we can get to the ER and they can run some tests. But he’s closer to okay than he was a minute ago.”

The man suddenly went to his knees, his gun hand dropping to his side. Tears began rolling down his face. “I’m so sorry,” he said hoarsely.

Britt looked at Chris. He was running a hand over his face. Britt moved in closer to the man and tentatively patted his back. “He needs to get to the hospital,” she said. “This is a serious situation.”

The man nodded. “I know.”

“And…the cops…”

“I know.”

She wasn’t quite able to smile at him, but she patted him again. “You’re doing the right thing.”

“I never should have taken him. I knew he was sick but I don’t know how…” He trailed off.

She shook her head. “We all make mistakes. We all let our emotions get the best of us sometimes,” she said. “And you can learn how to do the diabetes care so this doesn’t happen again.”

“They might not let me now.”

Britt wet her lips. “Well, yeah, it’s going to be a little complicated for a while.”

The guy didn’t say anything to that.

She took a deep breath. “I need to call them in.”

He nodded.

“And it would be really great if you put the gun down.”

He looked down as if surprised to find himself holding a gun. With a shaking hand he put it on the floor and slid it toward the door. Then he pulled his daughter into his arms and held her.

Britt got to her feet and somehow passed Chris without touching him. Once she got him in her arms, she wasn’t letting go. Ever. So she needed to get the cops in here first. He seemed to understand—and maybe feel the same way—because he simply watched her as she went to the door. She pulled it open and kicked the gun outside, then she lifted her head and called out that everything was okay. Five seconds later, two cops were at the door.

The moment one of the cop’s shoes hit the linoleum inside the store, Britt was swept up in Chris’s arms. He carried her several feet away from the door as the cops filled the gas station. He didn’t say anything, and even though he put her down, he didn’t let even an inch of space between them. He just held her. And she let him.

She put her arms around him and hugged him tight. “I’m so sorry,” she said against his shirt. “When I saw him point that gun at you…” She shuddered. “You were right. I shouldn’t have gone in like that. You shouldn’t have come in with me.”

“Shh,” he said into her hair. “We’re okay.”

She waited, relishing the sounds of his strong, steady heartbeat in her ear, but he didn’t say anything else. That was weird.

The other paramedics rushed into the store as the cops led the man out in handcuffs. Another officer carried the little girl. A few minutes later, the boy was loaded into the ambulance and they took off, sirens blaring, followed by the cop car with the father and sister.

“I like this better than when you yell at me after calls,” Britt finally told Chris.

“Oh, I’m going to yell too. Eventually.”

“But you love me now,” she protested, pulling back to look up at him.

He looked into her eyes. “Yeah. Well, that’s why I’ve yelled at you every other time too.”

“You loved me all those times?”

“Yeah.”

She liked that. He’d been in love with her for a while. And feeling protective. And trying to keep her safe. Then she frowned. “So the yelling isn’t ever going to stop?”

He lifted a brow. “You could make it stop. By not running into dangerous situations.”

“I didn’t
run
. I proceeded. With caution even.”

“How did you know he’d let you in?”

“It’s hard for parents to stick their kids, even with the glucose monitors,” she said with a shrug. “It usually takes them a while to get okay with that part of the treatment. He was new to it.”

Chris sighed. “What if he’d shot you?”

“Then the cops would have swarmed and the kid would have gotten care that way.” She paused and wet her lips. “But if he’d shot you, I would have never recovered. I should have listened to you and waited.”

He looked at her for several heartbeats. “I can’t do this.”

That hit her directly in the heart. But she wasn’t shocked. “I know. And if you’re going to give me a hard time or try to stop me every time I go out… I can’t do it either.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“I’m giving you a transfer.”

“I’m putting in for a transfer.”

They spoke at the same time, then stopped and stared at each other. Slowly they smiled.

“You’re going to give me a transfer?” she asked.

“You’re going to ask for one?” he asked.

They both nodded.

“One of the things I love about you is your dedication to your job,” he said. “I just can’t separate that from everything else I feel. And I will try to hold you back. Not if we’re sitting at home over dinner talking about our days, but if I’m there, watching you go in.”

She smiled. “I know. And I love you wanting to take care of me. At home. Over dinner and everything else. But I won’t let you hold me back at work.”

“And you’re too damned distracting. I don’t feel like I’m one hundred percent on when you’re around and I hate that,” he added.

She nodded. “I hear you. I can’t concentrate if you’re in a dangerous situation either. Neither of us can work like that.”

Gary crossed to where they stood. “We’re heading to the hospital,” he said. “Once the kid is stable, we’ll deal with what to do with dad.”

Chris gave Britt one last long look. “We’re right behind you. Britt needs to give the report.”

“See you up there,” Gary said.

“Well, let’s go,” Chris told her. “You’ve got work to do.”

“You sure you don’t want to jump in and save me from the paperwork?” she asked.

He laughed and took her hand. “Can’t step on your toes. You’re the best EMT I’ve ever worked with.”

“The best EMT you
used to
work with.”

“Right. I’ll push the transfer through next week.”

She let him help her up into the truck, but before he slammed the door, she said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“And you’re going to push the transfer through tomorrow.”

He sighed and leaned in to kiss her. “Okay. Tomorrow.” He put his forehead against hers. “That doesn’t mean that I won’t be yelling at you about this call later, though.”

“I’m guessing it won’t be ‘don’t you dare come out here naked’ like the last time.”

His eyes heated. “No. It won’t be that.”

No, it wouldn’t be that. And she was pretty sure he wouldn’t be yelling much at all once she pulled the leftover chocolate frosting out.

Britt settled back in her seat as Chris climbed in and pulled the truck out onto the highway.

“Huh,” she said almost to herself.

“What?” he asked glancing over.

“Believe it or not, you’re the best time I’ve ever had, Chris Evans.”

He grabbed her hand and lifted it to his lips for a kiss. Then he grinned. “I know.”

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Finding Chris Evans: The Hollywood Edition

Finding Chris Evans:
The Hollywood Edition
By Lizzie Shane

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Chapter One

After two solid hours stuck in traffic circling the outlet mall, Trina Mitchell came to an unsettling conclusion—either the people of northern Minnesota liked shopping a whole lot more than she’d given them credit for, or Christian Taylor Evans was
way
more famous than she’d given
him
credit for.

She had an uneasy feeling it was the latter.

She’d suspected. She’d wondered if he was more than the humble contractor who’d introduced himself to her that night two months ago in Chicago, but even when she’d Googled him after the fact, she hadn’t understood the full scope of his stardom.

In the last two weeks—since the Little Plus Sign of Doom appeared—Trina had memorized his bio, as well as his public appearance schedule. She’d known, intellectually, that the “Addition Magician” was the hottest celebrity contractor on basic cable these days—emphasis on
hottest
—but today’s gridlock brought home the reality of his fame in a disturbingly physical way.

They were here for him. All these people. All these
women
.

No wonder he wasn’t returning her texts.

Finally spying an open parking spot, she whipped her old Civic into the space—ignoring the angry honking of another driver and hoping her karma could handle a parking violation. She needed to get in there.

Chris had been scheduled to start speaking at noon—so she’d planned to show up at ten and try to ambush him before his presentation. But that plan had flown out the window when she’d seen the line of cars snaking down the highway for three miles on either side of the exit for the new outlet mall. Over two hours of bumper to bumper traffic later, she’d been forced to resign herself to waiting in line for the Meet & Greet photo op after his talk. It was already twelve-fifteen, but the Meet & Greet went until two. She’d be able to talk to him. She had to.

Trina jogged toward the mall’s open-air courtyard, following the sound of Chris’s voice over the loud speaker—and found herself surrounded by roughly two thousand women crowded into the courtyard for the outlet mall’s grand opening ceremony.

Mall security formed a human wall, keeping the throngs of females at bay. Apparently his fans were almost unanimously female—and screaming like groupies at a rock concert.

He built houses, for crying out loud, but from the way the women around her were carrying on, you’d think the Beatles had just landed. Trina was a little surprised no one was throwing panties—or maybe she’d just missed the panty-collection part of the program.

Trina craned her neck, grateful for her height as she stretched to see over the swarming females, trying to figure out where the line for the Meet & Greet was going to start. If she could sneak over there while he was still speaking, she might be able to beat the rush.