Send the Snowplow (2 page)

Chapter 3

Luckily, Molly didn’t want to be outside any more than Jaycee. She ran around the fenced-in dog run near the main entrance a few times, and took care of her business in rapid order. The sky had a dark pink cast—the kind that signaled they were in for a long night of snow and ice. It was beautiful and peaceful, in a way, nothing but the soft crunch of Molly’s footfalls, her occasional snorts as she sniffed the ground, and the sounds of thick icy snow falling all around her. If it had been anywhere else, on any other night of the year, it would be one of those hidden perfect memories she’d stash away to savor as she fell asleep. But, it was Christmas, and sleep wasn’t on the agenda.

Betsy met them near the entrance on her way out. Jaycee gave her a quick hug. “Call me when you get home so I know you made it.”

Betsy nodded. “I won’t see you until Monday. Keep that old fool in line, okay?”

“Like you said. I got this.”

Molly followed Jaycee back to the nurses station. First order of business was to check the scheduled medications. The med room was only a little larger than a closet. Enough room for a portable medication cart, some cabinets, including locked ones for narcotic pain medications, a sink, and trash. It was a good thing she didn’t get claustrophobic. Even so, leaving the door open a crack helped, especially at night.

Movement caught her attention. Jaycee turned to find Chris leaning in the open doorway, arms crossed, watching her. “Hey, Chris. I saw Harold. Anything going on with your other patients?”

He gave a nonchalant shrug. “Both 201 and 205 are bedridden. Harold’s a riot as usual.”

Jaycee sucked in a terse breath. Yeah, it was shorthand of sorts, but it was also a way to avoid making an emotional connection with patients. One of the many reasons she’d chosen to get out of hospital nursing. “Mrs. Abadie was a translator during the Gulf War. She has a Purple Heart. And Mr. Grayson, the guy in 205? He and his wife fostered over a hundred kids.”

Chris eyed her with what looked like bored amusement. “It’s easier than names.”

If she hadn’t been distracted by the way the lights illuminated the green in his eyes, she might have gotten angrier. “Those are people. Someone’s wife, mother, sister, friend. They’re more than a room number.”

He raised his hands in the air in a sign of defeat even though his grin said something else. “Okay, I get it. I’m just jazzed about spending the night with you.” 

Jaycee snorted. “Right. Because everybody’s idea of fun is staying up all night in a hospice unit on Christmas Eve.”

Chris took a step closer as if he knew the effect his sultry gaze had on her. Okay, so he knew exactly what effect it had on her. She steadied herself to keep her knees from shaking. “Well, if we’re going to be up all night anyway, we could make it interesting.” He gave her another lusty stare then turned and left.

Jaycee waited until he was out of sight before she leaned against the wall and allowed herself to smile.

***

Chris met Harold near the main entrance. Together, they peered out into the parking lot. Not that there was much more than heavy snowflakes to see. Harold turned and did a double-take as Jaycee walked by the far end of the hallway. “Nice booty. I’d tap that.”

Of course he would—or would have. Advanced prostate cancer made the whole thing ludicrous, but Harold had his reputation as a ladies-man to uphold. Chris laughed, but leaned to get a better glimpse of Jaycee’s retreating backside. He lowered his voice. “But so would I, buddy... So would I.”

Once he was certain the oh-so-delectable Jaycee wouldn’t be returning soon, Chris turned his attention back to the weather. As much as he meant it about being thrilled to spend some quality alone time with her, it looked nasty out there, and the last thing he wanted was to work a double on Christmas. He took a few tentative steps out onto the sidewalk. As soon as his feet cleared the relative protection of the awning covering the door, they skated out from under him, and the pavement rushed up to meet his backside. It was a cold, wet, and most definitely unflattering landing. He glanced up at the ice-covered trees and power lines as he picked his way back inside. The prospects for getting home in the morning were looking bleaker by the second.

“That was great! Can you do it again?” Harold laughed and pointed at him.

Chris brushed the ice and snow off his scrub pants. “Not funny.” Okay, it might have been, if it had happened to someone else. Might have even been YouTube worthy, but in this case, he was glad Harold didn’t have a cell phone out to document the occasion. He headed to the Nurses Station with Harold following behind. After surveying Jaycee’s backside one more time, Chris touched her shoulder. “It’s getting nasty out there. You know where the emergency procedure manual is?”

Jaycee pointed to a row of thick three-ring binders on a shelf. One had ‘Emergency Procedures’ in big red letters. “Where it’s always been, and it’s on our computers.”

He nodded. “Computer won’t help if the power gets knocked out.”

As if on cue, the lights flickered. Jaycee jumped and made a sound that best resembled a squeal. She lost her balance and tumbled into him. He wrapped his arms around her in a reflexive motion and breathed in the clean scent of her shampoo. She lingered in his arms. Shock? Was she s attracted to him? Lord knew he’d done everything but send her an engraved invitation to the party. Chris leaned in to kiss her Her eyes closed—always a good sign. So close... and then the phone rang.

Jaycee jumped again, this time, away from him. She rushed to pick up the receiver. “Pleasant Meadows Hospice.”

Still reeling from the near-kiss, Chris stared at her a moment, stepped around the corner, and smacked his palm against his forehead. Not like him to let a moment like that slip by unanswered.

Jaycee’s voice sounded worried. “That’s not good.”

There’d be plenty of time to catch Nurse Jaycee alone later and make up for the missed opportunity. She jiggled the phone cord, then whacked the side of the base unit. “Sorry, can you repeat that?” She caught Chris’s gaze and her brow furrowed. “I think we’re okay for now. Keep us posted.” She hung up the phone and gave him a frown as she gestured at the expensive holiday decor. “A thousand dollars on Christmas lights, but they switch us to crappy internet phone to save a few bucks.”

He shrugged and leaned on the counter, close enough to Jaycee to catch another whiff of her shampoo. “Everyone’s doing it. So, what’s not good.”

Her brow furrowed in a pout that made her even sexier than before. “The State Patrol is closing the roads until the snow plows get out.”

Chris nodded and lifted his scrub shirt to show Jaycee the wet area on his backside. He made sure she had a great view of his back—and his six-pack. Nothing wrong with a little advertising when the opportunity presented itself, right? “Not surprised. I just went outside. It’s icing.”

It didn’t escape his attention that her gaze lingered on his toned body and more than a hint of red rose from her neck and spread across her cheeks. She averted her eyes and picked up a clipboard, back to all business. “Valerie’s here with Brad, you have any family members here?”

“201—I mean Mrs. Abadie’s husband, and a son and daughter for Mr. Grayson.”

Jaycee jotted note. It was a good thing she was in charge, not him. They’d starve if he had to plan too much. She glanced up at him. “Okay. Maybe by the time they wake up, the snowplows will be here.”

Chris snorted. “Not likely. Death Central isn’t on their priority list.” He gave Jaycee a long stare. “Speaking of Death Central, what’s your plan for escaping?”

She shook her head, waves of mocha-colored hair swirling around her face. “I escaped the Emergency Room rat-race to come here. Why?”

He hadn’t expected that. “Got any connections? I’ve got less than a month to have the two years experience they want for ER nurses.”

She gave him a cool appraisal. One he’d expect from someone used to the trenches of the ER. “You got what it takes?”

Was she flirting with him, or asking about his clinical skills? Could go either way. “You’d better believe it, honey.” That covered both bases.

It must have made her at least a little nervous because she grabbed her cell phone to give herself something to do while she collected her wits? She scrolled through a list of missed calls then gave him an apologetic shrug. “Great.” She tapped Jake’s name in the call list. It rang through, and before anyone even said hello, she jerked the phone away from her ear. “Jake, stop yelling.”

***

Jake Roberts stormed around the living room and kicked a few open video game cases out of his way. His sister, Clarissa, who seemed to think she was God’s gift to every one in the whole fricking world, even though she was just like every other annoying big sister, stared at him. She held the remote control out with her perfectly painted fingernails, taunting him. “She’s seen that movie a hundred times.”

“So? You’ve beat the game a hundred times.”

That wasn’t the point, and she knew it. “It’s my turn. That’s the rule.”

Mom’s voice blared through his phone speaker. “You both have TV’s in your rooms. Use them.”

Yeah, right. Like that made it all better, too. Clarissa lobbed a pillow at him. He didn’t see it in time, and it smacked him upside the head and knocked his glasses off his face. “I hate you!”

“Dweeb!”

She always had to get the last word in, why was that? “Twatwad!”

Clarissa jumped from the couch and took a swing at him. He ducked out of reach before her hand connected. “Asshole!”

Mom’s voice blared at him over the phone. “I mean it!”

He’d forgotten she was listening to the whole thing. Crap. Clarissa stomped off, but took the remote control with her. She did it on purpose, just to make him mad. And it worked. He eyed the pile of presents under the Christmas tree. “This wouldn’t happen if you’d let us open presents early. I’m assuming you got me the virtual reality setup.”

Mom blew out a deep breath over the phone. “We always open our gifts on Christmas Day. It’s tradition.”

“Only because Dad said so. We could do it different.”

Her voice softened. “Just leave her alone, okay? The roads are closed until the snowplows get here. Let Miranda know.”

Great. Stuck with Clarissa and Miranda, and now no presents until whenever Mom could get home from work. “So, can I open my presents now? You won’t be here anyway.”

“No. Talk to you later, Jakey.” She disconnected the call.

Even though she couldn’t hear him, Jake held the phone out in front of him and talked into it. “I could be playing virtual reality right now.” He picked up a likely present with his name on it, shook it, fiddled with an edge of wrapping paper, then put it back. There was a point you didn’t mess with Mom, and opening presents without her was definitely on the list of places he wasn’t willing to push limits.

***

Jaycee pulled out a rolling office chair, sat and grabbed a chart, and made a notation in it, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

Chris grabbed another chair and pulled it close, straddled the seat and sat facing her. It didn’t escape his attention she had to avert his gaze from his crotch, either. “How old are they?”

Jaycee looked up from the patient record, confusion registering on her face. “Harold?”

“No, your kids. Teenagers?”

The petite nurse suppressed a shudder. “Worse. Teenager wannabes. Jake’s eight, and Clarissa’s twelve, going on twenty-five.” She took out her cell phone, pulled up a photograph, and handed it to him.

The whole family—including the husband—even though he knew Jaycee was separated, and had been for quite a while. It was one of those questions a guy asked, and there were more than enough people willing to tell him all about her split-up. He tried to ignore the guy, although he noticed he seemed to be a little squidgy around the mid-section. Gym memberships weren’t that difficult to manage, were they? He gave what he hoped was a sympathetic nod. “How long have you been in Splitzville, Jaycee?” Not that he didn’t already know the answer to the question.

“Nine months on Tuesday. This was a few weeks before he packed his bags.” A moment of pain flashed across her features.

Chris looked at the photograph again. The expressions on Jaycee and her husband’s face said they’d rather have splinters shoved under their nails than touch each other. He zoomed in on the kids, settling on the daughter, then glanced from her to Jaycee. “Clarissa’s the spitting image of you. I’ve got a big hunting knife I can sharpen on your porch when she’s old enough to date.”

Jaycee shuddered. “Oh, thanks for reminding me I have that to look forward to.”

He leaned in, turning on the sultry charm in his voice. “She will be beautiful, like her mother.” His eyes lingered on the flecks of gold in Jaycee’s eyes. Like spun amber. “So... over for good?”

Her shoulders slumped. “Not my decision. Never has been.”

Not a great sign, but he could work with it. Chris stood up and brushed a lock of hair from her face with the crook of his finger. “What you choose to do now? That’s your decision.” He pushed in his chair and walked down the hall toward Harold’s room. Yeah, he made sure there was plenty in his retreating gait for Jaycee to admire. If anyone would make her forget the loser of a husband willing to walk away from those eyes and smoking hot body, it would be him, and using all of his assets—pun intended—was definitely part of the plan.

Chapter 4

Nights with few patients meant there wasn’t a lot to do, but that was also a hazard when you needed to stay awake and alert. Jaycee took the extra time to update care plans and charting—things she never seemed to find the time to get done when things were busy. Diana sat nearby, documenting her routine cares in flip-charts.

Chris joined them. “I can’t see our cars it’s snowing so hard. No one’s getting to work tomorrow. We should take turns and get a little sleep.”

Diana nodded and yawned. Jaycee smiled. “Go ahead, you can go first.” It didn’t matter to her, and besides, she wasn’t all that tired right now. Might as well save it for later when she might really need it. For now, the coffee was doing the trick.