Not a damn car in sight all day. Apparently no one else knew about Crusty's detour.
Kathleen trudged beside him. Dogged determination marked her face with an expression he hadn't seen since cross country rims at the Academy. They could have been transported back.
Except for the bruise on her brow.
Across her temple, the purplish stain had spread. The jagged edges of her cut pulled together, no longer oozing but still looking nasty as hell. All because of a simple flat tire.
His brain screamed warnings at him. Two flat tires. That wasn't right. Their string of bad luck went beyond stepping out of the wrong side of the plane or missing a sardine breakfast. Except he couldn't do anything about that now. Just concentrate on getting Kathleen to shelter for the night.
She skirted a creosote bush, her feet tangling as she sidestepped. A fresh fist of dread pummeled him. He had to keep her alert. Talking would help him gauge her state of mind. "What did you mean about wanting a keg party?"
"Huh?" Her eyes shifted from watching her feet to Tanner.
The sunset fingered explosions of vibrant reds behind her, the same awesome shade of Kathleen's hair. He reminded himself that the brightness was merely a by-product of some light refraction on airborne dust and sand. That didn't diminish the view in the least.
"When I tried to wake you after the accident, you kept saying you didn't want to be one of the seven dwarfs. You wanted a keg party. What did you mean about Snow White tapping a keg?"
"I must have hit my head harder than I thought. I have no idea what I meant." She planted one foot in front of the other with each huffing breath. "Did I say anything else?"
"Something about how you didn't want to be Doc, Grumpy or Sleepy, You wanted a keg party."
Confusion smoothed from her face. "Oh."
"What did you mean?"
Her brow furrowed again. With concentration? Pain? Or disorientation.
He tucked in beside her and looped a steadying arm around her waist. "O'Connell?"
"It's silly, really." She didn't look at him. But she didn't pull away.
"Silly is the last adjective I would ever use to describe you."
"Thanks, I think."
God, she felt good against his side, warm, soft … alive. "Talk and let me know you're all right or I'm carrying you. I'll end up back in the infirmary making both our lives a living hell."
"My name."
He waited for the rest, but she didn't offer up anything more. "You'll need to give me a little more to go on. You're still not making sense."
"Doc. My name. My call sign."
"And? Come on, Doc, spill it." He gave her waist a gentle squeeze, assuring himself he did it in the interest of keeping her conscious. Yeah, right. "Do I have to threaten to piggyback you through the desert?"
"I told you this was silly."
He positioned his other arm as if to scoop her from behind her knees.
"Okay! Okay!" She danced out of his grasp. Returning to her dogged solo march, she trudged two steps ahead of him before speaking. "I never got a real call sign like the other flight surgeons. You know, like Cutter or Hippocrates. I'm just plain ol' Doc. No keg party naming ceremony. Nothing special. Not really one of you."
Tanner took in the proud tilt of her chin when he knew her head had to feel ten pounds too heavy. So many times he'd seen her roll her eyes over what she called "flyer games." He'd never once considered she'd wanted to play along. How could he have missed it? "Kathleen, I—"
She held up a silencing hand. "Stupid, I know, since I set the boundaries in the first place. I'm a loner, and I prefer it that way, so I can't fault the rest of you for not including me. I certainly wouldn't have said anything about it if my brains hadn't been rattled around inside my skull." She pivoted to face him and walked backward. "And I'll deny it if you ever repeat a word of what I said."
He grasped her shoulders, halting her. "I wouldn't repeat something you told me in confidence." lie gave her shoulders a squeeze and tried to bring her smile back. "Especially when your brains have been rattled around."
It didn't work and the failure coldcocked him. When had he shifted from wanting to make her mad to needing to make her smile?>Nausea frothed from her stomach up her throat. Kathleen clapped a hand over her mouth just before hanging her head between her knees. "Ohmigosh."