Spring River Valley: The Winter Collection (Boxed Set) (17 page)

As bad as Max felt for the elderly man, he couldn’t tamp down the wild excitement in his blood. This was what he wanted to be doing. News photography was his calling. He didn’t have to make anyone smile, or wait for someone to achieve the perfect pose. He could just point and shoot and capture amazing images as they happened.

Behind him, the reporter was now talking into his cell phone, likely directly to his editor. Max heard his name mentioned. This would be great publicity for his studio, not to mention give him an in at the paper. He kept shooting while the rescue workers swarmed.

Another group reaction traveled through the crowd as the car jerked. One tire seemed to be coming up over the rim of the bridge, and the man’s movements inside were making the vehicle bounce. Someone shouted to stop the bridge, and the onlookers crowded closer to the barriers. Still talking into his cell, Marchand passed Max and made his way to the line of neon orange sawhorses. For a better angle, Max held back, taxing his telephoto to the limit to try to capture a shot of Mr. Dochanti’s gloved hand griping the steering wheel as his open door swung dangerously back and forth.

Everything after that moment happened in a blur. The car bucked once, and its wheels came free of the lip of the roadway. In the next instant, it began rolling down the raised deck of the bridge, the still steep angle giving it momentum.

The bridge workers shouted, and Max looked up in time to see Marchand, turned away from the barriers to talk to someone standing behind him. The car was barreling toward the onlookers, and Max let go of his camera, letting it swing by its strap from his body, and threw himself into the knot of reporters, pushing them out of the way.

The next thing he knew he was face-to-bumper with the rolling Buick.

“Room four is still waiting for an X-ray,” Audrey said, making a note on the patient’s chart. She’d been in Radiology and missed most of the excitement when injuries began rolling in from the runaway car on the drawbridge. Now there was little left to do but oversee the discharge for a couple members of the bridge crew and onlookers brought in by the EMTs.

“I’m on my way to four now,” one of the orderlies responded, stopping to peer at the chart before Audrey put it in the stand. She flipped through the others there, quickly checking to make sure no one else was waiting for something she could provide.

His name registered immediately, and she snatched his chart from the stack. Max Shannon. A little frisson of—was it excitement or concern?—buzzed through her as she scanned the chart. He’d been hit by a car!

She took the chart with her and headed for room seven where a curtain obscured the ER bed. God, what could have happened to him? Her stomach churned with worry at what she’d find when she peeked around the curtain.

“Mr. Shannon?” She used her professional voice so no one would suspect she knew him. She pulled the curtain open an inch and looked inside.

He lay sprawled on the rolling cot, deeply involved in sending a text message.

She rolled her eyes as he looked up.

“Hey! Iron Audrey, it’s you.”

“What are you doing here? Is this some kind of twisted attempt at a second date?” She crossed her arms over her chest. The dead battery approach hadn’t worked, so he had to go and throw himself in front of a car to get her attention?

He gasped in mock indignation. “Get over yourself. I was injured on the job.”

“Was it a baby or a dog in a Santa suit that ran you over?” Her instinct was to examine him, but did she trust herself to put her hands on him?

“I was shooting the bridge accident, and the car hit me.”

She raised a brow. “What were you doing at the bridge?”

“Filling in for a newspaper photographer. Am I going to live?”

Audrey glanced at his chart. According to the notes made by the admitting physician, he’d been checked for contusions and was awaiting discharge. “This says you’re fine. The car couldn’t have hit you very hard.”

He stuck out his chest and cocked a brow. “I’m tough as old shoe leather. Can’t dent this hide.”

“Is that a challenge?” She set the chart down and gave in to her instincts to feel him for broken bones even though the paperwork said he didn’t have any.

His wicked smile faded as she ran her hands over his shoulders, the back of his neck and down his arms. When she met his gaze, her heart gave one of those painful thuds. “Are you in any pain?”

“Just my broken heart.”

She dropped his hand and backed up a step. “And who broke your heart, wise guy?”

“You. You won’t give me a chance to make up for my arrogant behavior the other night.”

“Oh, so you talked to your cousin?”

“She does feel terrible about the whole thing, and she wants to make it up to you.”

“I’m fine, really.”

Just then, the resident popped his head around the curtain. “Mr. Shannon? Your paperwork is all done. You can go home, get some rest and stay out of the way of runaway cars in the future, okay?”

“Thanks, doc. I’ll do that.” Max swung his legs off the cot and stood up. He sort of hovered for a second, then his knees buckled. Instinctively, Audrey ducked under his shoulder and wrapped her arm around his waist for support. He leaned on her heavily for a moment.

“Easy there, big guy. Are you dizzy or weak?”

“I’m head over heels for a prickly nurse.” He winked at her and regained his feet. “I just wanted to see if you’d put your arms around me.”

Her blood heated, and she scowled as she heaved him off her. “Very clever. You realize I have the authority to sign you up for an exploratory colonoscopy, don’t you?”

To his credit, he shivered as he grabbed his jacket from the nearby chair. “I’ll behave from now on. Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know how Mr. Dochanti is?”

“Who’s that?”

“The man who was in the car that got stuck on the bridge. I’m sure he was pretty shaken up by the whole thing.”

His serious tone tugged at her. This was the Max she would have liked to get to know, not the wise cracking troublemaker. “Stay here a minute, and I’ll see what I can find out.”

Audrey let out a slow breath as she left the room. Her pulse had to have doubled in the time she’d been with Max, and she didn’t like that. He left her off balance. Best to tell him what he needed to know and get him on his way.

She found Mr. Dochanti’s chart and scanned down to the discharge orders. The elderly man had been admitted, but it looked like it was merely for observation due to elevated blood pressure and a few very minor bumps and bruises. He’d been very lucky.

Before going back into Max’s room, Audrey paused to collect herself. She’d give him what little information she could about Mr. Dochanti and then get an orderly to escort him out. He’d probably complain about having to ride to the door in a wheelchair, but hospital policy was hospital policy. She ducked back in. “He should be fine. He wasn’t hurt badly. That’s all I can tell you, since you’re not a relative.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” He held her gaze for a minute, during which time the temperature in the small room seemed to quadruple.

Audrey gulped air. “I’ll get you a ride to the door.”

“Huh?”

“Wheelchair. Nobody walks out of a hospital. If you think about it, it’s sort of silly. It
would be much better press if the people we discharged were on their feet, don’t you think?”

He broke into a wide, genuine grin. “You know, I never thought about it that way. Um…when is your shift over?”

“Why?” She narrowed her eyes.

“Maybe we could get coffee? I could show you my bruises.”

She shook her head. “If you’ve seen one bruise, you’ve seen them all. Besides I don’t get off until midnight, and by then all I want to do is go to bed.” Her throat closed. Had she actually said that? Good God, where was a full face mask when you needed one?

He smirked, and the smart ass Max was back. “Sounds better than coffee. I’m game.”

“Go home, Max. I’m not sleeping with you.” She stepped backward through the door and called down the hall for one of the orderlies. “Can I get a wheelchair in here for a discharge? Thanks.”

Max pouted. “I’ll settle for the coffee.”

“I’ll give you a call when I’m ready for all that relationship therapy you think you can give me.”

“Any time. I think together we can sort through your issues, if you just give it a chance.”

“Fine. I’ll schedule you a colonoscopy, and we can talk then.” She glowered at him.

“I’m going, I’m going. You can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“In this case, I think I can.”

* * * *

Max groaned, partly because of the unpleasant soreness that had claimed the entire lower half of his body overnight, and partly because of the scrapes and dents in his best Nikon. The camera he’d been wearing around his neck had taken a worse beating than he had, but at least the digital memory card was intact, and all the pictures he’d taken had come out perfectly.

He’
d forgotten one side effect of field work was equipment damage, both technical equipment and organic equipment. He rubbed the base of his spine while he perused the shots he planned to upload to the newspaper database to e-mail to Chad Marchand.

Thoughts of Audrey kept interrupting his work, though, and more than once he found himself staring at his cell phone and considering giving her a call. He couldn’t figure out why the urge to tease this girl was so overwhelming, but something about the fiery flash of her hazel eyes made his blood sizzle.

She was a live wire all right, and the more he saw her and talked to her, the more he wanted to be the one to tame her, but he hadn’t figured out the right approach yet.

He finished his work and caved in, dialing her number with his thumb. Had he memorized those digits already?
Max, you got it bad. What’s the deal, man?

She answered on the third ring. “You’ve reached Iron Audrey. At the sound of the beep, hang up.”

“Oh, I’m wounded. I was calling for medical advice.”

“Oh really? Broken heart not mended yet?”

“As a matter of fact, no, but my back is killing me. The X-rays said it was fine, but today, I can hardly move.”

Her brief silence had him worried that she’d hang up, but when she spoke again, the disapproval was gone from her voice. “Is it a sharp pain or a dull ache?”

“A dull ache. I’m walking like my grandmother.”

“Not surprising after what happened. You’ll be sore for a couple of days. Did the resident tell you to take some aspirin or an anti-inflammatory?”

“Yeah, but I’m not really a pill popper.”

“Do yourself a favor this once and pop the pills. Get off your feet, and if you have a heating pad, put that on your back. If the pain gets worse instead of better by tomorrow, go back to the ER.”

“Do you make house calls?”

“I do not.”

He moaned. “Do you make exceptions?”

“I do not.”

This time he swore he heard a smile in her voice and decided to press his luck. “Do you make chicken soup?”

“I do not. But…I do know where I can get some.”

Hope surged in him. “With oyster crackers?”

He imagined he could hear her rolling her eyes. “What’s your address?”

“Fourteen Jackson, apartment 3A.”

“I’ll send someone right over with the soup.”

“Wait, what? You’re not coming—” She’d already hung up. Max groaned. This girl was going to be the death of him.

* * * *

“Thanks for this,” Audrey said as she packed a tall container of piping hot chicken soup into a paper bag, along with a package of oyster crackers and two bonus blueberry scones.

Harper grinned broadly, her cheeks pink from the aromatic steam coming from the huge pot of soup simmering in the kitchen of Taverna Fiora. The catering hall, where Harper’s boyfriend Grant Addison worked, offered a senior citizen dinner on Thursday nights in the winter. The menu always included chicken soup, hearty stew, overstuffed sandwiches, and an assortment of pastries for dessert. All were welcome, but anyone over the age of sixty-five got to eat for free, compliments of a number of town organizations.

Some volunteers now even brought meals to shut-ins, a project Harper had spearheaded this month since she spent most of her off hours at TF now. “So you’re going over to his apartment to play doctor?” Her giggle sounded far too maniacal to Audrey.

“Down girl. You’re enjoying this too much. No, I’m not playing doctor.” Audrey fished her wallet out of her purse. “I’m…” What was she doing? Some small part of her worried about Max. Soft tissue injuries didn’t often show up on X-rays and…and he wasn’t her patient. Another part of her refused to admit she’d been thinking about him since he’d been wheeled out of the hospital the other night.

“Next week is Valentine’s Day,” Harper said as they made their way down the hall toward the lobby. She put a hand on Audrey’s arm. “Dinner’s on me tonight. In exchange for details.”

“Don’t try to bribe me.”

“It’s not a bribe. It’s an open-faced, aboveboard payment for information. This guy has you tied up in knots. You’ve been on Mars since you met him. I don’t see why you don’t call Cassandra and tell her she didn’t screw up. Make an official date with him. Obviously he’s interested.”

“He irks me.” So much so she was running to his apartment to feed him chicken soup. What was wrong with her?

Harper laughed. “Then why are you seeing him tonight?”

“I’m not seeing him. I’m bringing him soup.”

“And you came here to get it, so now I know about it, which means you either want to talk about it or you want me to stop you.”

“Stop me, please. Stop me.”

“No way in hell. He’s cute. You’re wearing your favorite lipstick. Clearly you don’t want to be stopped. So I guess you want to talk.” Harper whispered in her ear, “And I know you. You’ll talk for free.”

“Shut up.”

“I’d invite you guys to the Valentine’s Day dance here, but it’s for singles, and by then…”

“By then I’ll be seeking therapy to find out why I can’t ignore this guy.”

“Because you like him.” Harper sang the words, which made Audrey a little queasy. Not that Harper couldn’t sing, but the whole scenario made her feel completely out of control.

“I’m bringing him soup, that’s all.”

“Call me in the morning.” Harper blew a kiss as Audrey left TF, her mind whirling. She had to get Max Shannon out of her system or she was going to lose her mind.

“Hey, I’m going for pizza. Want to come along?” Jared tapped Max’s foot as he breezed by the couch in their apartment.