"What?" Still no smile in sight, not a surprise since her face looked frozen with shock.
Tanner inched up. "I shouldn't have given you hell on the flight line. It's not your fault my back's out. Are there some torturous tests you want to run so I can pay my penance?"
Her gaze skittered away, and she flipped through his chart, avoiding his eyes. "Just follow the recovery plan."
"I intend to be a model patient."
"Music to my ears."
"The sooner this is over, the sooner I can get back on a crew. I don't expect you to understand, Doc."
Her head snapped up. The diamond glint in her eyes could have cut glass. "Why not, hotshot?"
"Hey, I'm trying to apologize here." He raised his hands in mock surrender. What had he done this time? Not that either of them ever needed much of a reason to argue. "The least you could do is be gracious."
Hugging the chart like a shield, she pulled a tight smile again. "Pardon me. Must be something else this 'Doc' didn't learn in medical school. Apology accepted."
"Great."
"Thanks."
"Fine!"
A cleared throat sounded from the hall just before Lt. Col. Zach Dawson knocked on the open door with exaggerated precision.
The Squadron Commander. The boss. Tanner wondered if a plague of locusts might be next, because his day couldn't get much worse.
Lt. Col. Dawson ducked inside. "Hey, you two want to fire it up some more? I don't think they heard you in Switzerland."
Kathleen popped to attention. "Good afternoon, Colonel."
Tanner sat as straight as he could, mentally cursing the hospital gown. "Colonel."
"Captains." The Squadron Commander nodded. His Texas twang echoed in the silent room as he ambled to a stop at the foot of Tanner's bed. "So, Doc, when're you going to cut my guy here loose?"
"Overnight in the infirmary should have him back on his feet, ready for desk duty within twenty-four hours. Two weeks on muscle relaxants. I'll reevaluate then, but he'll likely be on flying status again within four weeks. As long as he keeps up with his chiropractor appointments, there shouldn't be a repeat."
The commander shot her a thumbs-up. "That works."
Tanner studied his boss for signs of impatience over the lost air time and found none. No gripes or pressure to get him into action? Unusual for Dawson. "Thanks for stopping by, sir."
"Just checking on one of my men. And having O'Connell here saves me arranging a meeting later." The commander plucked a metal chair from the corner and straddled it, his arms resting along the back. "Doc, how about pull up a seat and let's chat."
Eyes wary, Kathleen lowered herself to the recliner by Tanner's bed. "Yes, sir?"
The commander scrubbed a hand along his close-shorn hair, taking his sweet Texas time. "See, I've got this morale problem in my squadron, and that concerns me."
Tanner frowned, sweeping a hand over his face to clear away the Demerol fog. "Sir?"
"Morale is the glue that bonds a unit. And when there's a problem in that department, say infighting among my officers, especially in front of my enlisted folks, it needs to be addressed."
Their flight line incident. Cutter had said it was the story of the day, apparently for everyone. Icy prickles started up Tanner's back that had nothing to do with pinched nerves.
The commander pinned Tanner with his deceptively easygoing stare. "Bennett, what's the first thing I do when I've got dissenting fliers who need to establish camaraderie?"
Those icy prickles turned into a veritable shower. He knew where this was headed, and it didn't bode well for either of them.
"Well, Captain?"