Second First Kiss

Chapter 15

Jasher

“Doctor?” The paramedic from the ambulance rushed in with the patient on the gurney, shouting. “We’ve got a head wound and the patient is on Coumadin. We’re having a devil of a time stanching the flow.”

Blood thinners and head wounds did not mix. At Jasher’s side like lightning, Sage charged forward with clean towels, and the rush of emergency medicine roared to life.

Two hours later, three more patients had come through, and Jasher had seen all of them. With Sage. Together. He’d been right—they did make a good team. At one point, they were finishing each other’s sentences when they encountered a greenstick fracture in a pregnant mother’s tibia, which they’d had to work side by side to set in a walking cast.

The hours passed quickly—faster than any shift he’d ever worked in a hospital. They stayed side by side, due to the workload’s constancy. Energy snapped between them, like a downed electrical wire, whipping back and forth, a residual from their interrupted moment the other night. Talk about a hot date. So hot it had turned into a three-alarm fire.

Now, if they touched without the insulation of surgical gowns and latex gloves, the ensuing spark might stop his heart.

“Incoming.” A nurse who Jasher hadn’t seen before passed him in between curtained patient bays while Sage was gone to check a patient’s vitals. “I just heard the ambulance pull up again,” she said. “I’m Patricia. Float pool today. A once-a-monther.”

“Good to meet you.” Jasher put on a fresh pair of gloves. “The ambulance teams are working nonstop for a Tuesday.”

“No kidding.” She hustled toward a distressed patient to take his vitals. “But you don’t seem to mind. You’ve got a tandem-team thing going with Sage Everton, seems to me.”

“Huh?” Better to play dumb. “She’s handling the pressure well, considering she doesn’t always work ER, and certainly not when it’s slammed like this.”

“I can definitely see that. The two of you are like a well-oiled machine. It’s like you’ve been working together for years, not days, and you can read each other’s thoughts.”

Was it that obvious? And did that mean it was obvious that Sage was into him? So, that meant he wasn’t imagining it. Nice. “I’m a professional. So is she.”

“I’ll just bet.” Patricia wrapped the blood pressure cuff on the patient’s arm. “I’ll just bet.” Like a mother-hen. Annoying.

Jasher put his stethoscope into his ears. Maybe he’d better keep that brewing chemistry between himself and Sage a little more on the down low. If possible.

The moaning patient rolled back and forth on the gurney. “It’s like a boulder lodged in my gut.”

The paramedic spoke matter-of-factly. “Complaining of fatigue, nausea, and memory loss.”

“What have you eaten today?” Probably a chicken-fried steak. Jasher still had one lodged in his craw from several days back. “Anything heavy or fried?”

“No, I haven’t had an appetite for days. Weeks, maybe.”

Not good. “I’ll get you started on a saline IV while they’re admitting you.” Might as well get some fluids started, since his chart showed extremely low BP. Patricia left to get the IV and saline drip. “You always have low blood pressure?”

“I don’t know. Never visited a doctor before.” The guy was about forty, average weight, sporting a raging farmer’s tan, average build. “No time. Can you get me out of here quick? I have to get the alfalfa cut. There’s rain predicted for the weekend.”

Farmers. They never saw the doctor until something dragged them to the ER.

The curtain slinked aside, its metallic rings singing against the pipe suspending it from above. Then it pulled shut. Sage was at his side instead of Patricia.

“May I help, Dr. Hotchkiss?” Sage questioned him on all his health habits while inserting the IV and getting the saline going. Non-smoker, not even a drinker. Married, monogamous, family guy. Four kids. Little ones. Jasher had better conjure up some wicked diagnosis skills, and fast.

“Ever had any gall bladder problems?” she asked.

He glanced over her notes. Gall bladder? That was a good next question. Good instinct.

“Continue.” Instead of waiting for all the interview notes, Jasher listened intently. This was important. He needed to hear the details as spoken. Not that diagnosis was his normal wheelhouse, but he found himself caring a lot more than usual about this case. Probably because with the farmer tan, the guy looked a little like his dad had looked, back when Jasher was a kid.

The saline bag dripped, and Sage added a few more monitors to the patient. Heart monitor, a finger pulse oximeter.

“Let’s get an x-ray ordered on the abdomen.” As he opened his mouth to say, And a CT scan of his thyroid wouldn’t hurt.

“And a CT scan of his thyroid, right?” she asked.