Читать книгу One Night With The Army Doc - Traci Douglass - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

“JUST PUT YOUR arm around it!” Rob yelled to Molly from behind a swath of thick rope. “Pretend it’s that hot doc at the hospital.”

She gave her cameraman a peeved stare. Had her attraction to Jake Ryder been that apparent? If Rob and Neal’s smirks were any indication then, yes, it had. Ugh. She usually kept a tight lid on her emotions. One more casualty of her jet lag and post-break-up-from-Brian funk.

Fabulous.

Exhaling loudly, Molly did her best to snuggle up to the world’s largest broccoli spear—weighing in at an astonishing thirty-nine pounds—and flashed a TV-perfect fake smile for the camera. The thing smelled like dirt and towered above her, its fanned floret casting ominous shadows. She’d read that Alaska was famous for its abnormally large produce, and here she was, within breathing distance of the proof.

“Perfect!” Rob gave her a thumbs-up while Neal texted on his phone.

Remarkably, they seemed to have good cell service out here—better than she’d had on her drive in from the airport the night before.

“I want to grab a corn dog before we head to the next location. Mol, you want anything?”

She shook her head. They’d set out this morning to capture some of the local flavor before her case took precedence. Bright and early, they’d packed up her Range Rover to explore all the area had to offer. After stopping at a diner for breakfast, and taking some exterior shots at the must-see spots in Anchorage—the modern curved sculptures outside the Z.J. Loussac Public Library, the gorgeous Native American exhibits at Rasmuson Center, the rustic quaintness of the Oscar Anderson House Museum, the city’s oldest residence—they’d driven forty minutes north to the small town of Palmer and the Alaska State Fair.

She released the giant cruciferous vegetable and scanned the vendors there, selling everything from pretzels to enormous ice cream cones. The air smelled of sweet popped corn and deep-fried dough. Rob tottered off to get his corn dog and Neal linked arms with Molly, leading her down a path designated as “The Purple Trail” to buy something called a Doughnut Burger.

“C’mon. It’s guaranteed to make you gain ten pounds.” He gave her a wink and placed his order but she passed.

She tried to eat healthily, even while traveling. If she ever let herself go physically her father would be the first to comment, so it was safer to not go down that road to begin with—no matter how tempting at times like this.

After collecting his food, she and Neal took a seat at one of the many wooden picnic tables to wait for Rob. The two guys had been a couple since before she’d joined the network, though they kept their personal relationship out of the office.

“Are you sure you don’t want a bite?” Neal asked.

Molly eyed the thick caribou steak patty between two slabs of grilled glazed doughnut, ketchup and mustard dripping down its sides, with trepidation. She could almost feel her arteries clogging. “Uh...no thanks.”

“It’s so scrumptious.” Neal wiped his face with his napkin, speaking to her around a mouthful of food. “At least try a corn fritter with honey butter dipping sauce. They’re delicious.”

“I’m still stuffed from breakfast, really.”

Molly pulled her phone from her pocket and zipped through her emails while Rob took a seat on the bench beside Neal and slid a plate in front of her.

“I got you a funnel cake, Mol. My treat.” Rob grinned. “Extra powdered sugar.”

Frowning, she stared down at the greasy confection. Its yeasty aroma was enticing, despite its odd look. She’d heard of these things, but never tried one herself. Tentatively she pulled off a tiny chunk and ate it. The treat melted in her mouth, releasing its sweet, rich goodness.

Eyes wide, Molly blinked at her smiling crew. “That’s amazing.”

“Told you.” Neal winked, then nudged Rob with his elbow.

She gobbled down more of the sweet deliciousness before answering her buzzing phone without checking the caller ID, assuming it would be the hospital. “Dr. Molly Flynn.”

“Hello, dear. Did you hear about Martha?”

“Yes, Mother.”

Neal raised a speculative brow and Molly swiveled on her bench to face in the opposite direction. She and her older sister Martha weren’t exactly close, but that hadn’t kept Molly from escaping the dreaded Baby Aboard! email blitz.

“I heard.”

“Then you’ll help me plan the shower?”

“She’s five months along.” Molly squinted into the hazy morning sunshine.

“Never too early to plan, dear. Not if you want the best.”

And of course Martha would have the best. She always got the best—from prom dresses to husbands.

“We need to reserve a room and order flowers. Pick a caterer and a cake maker too.”

“It’s a baby shower, Mother. Not a wedding.”

A cute little girl dressed to perform in one of the fair’s many shows waddled by and Molly smiled. She’d always loved children, but having her own someday seemed farther out of reach than ever. Mainly because of the belief her father had instilled within her every day of her childhood—that if people saw her true fallible self, her imperfections and quirks, they wouldn’t love her, couldn’t love her. So she hid behind her slick professionalism, her media persona, never letting anyone get too close to the truth.

“Speaking of weddings—how are things with Brian?” her mother asked.

The question hit Molly like a sucker punch. For a moment she considered lying about their separation, but her mother would find out soon enough—if she didn’t already know. “We’re taking a break.”

“Break?”

“Yes.” Molly reached behind her and grabbed the remaining huge chunk of funnel cake, shoving it in her mouth without thinking. “He’s busy with stocks and bonds and I’m swamped with shooting in Anchorage for the next few weeks, so it’s fine.”

“I see.” Her mother’s tone suggested that she’d seen straight through Molly’s crap. “You can’t keep doing this, dear.”

“Doing what?”

“Putting your personal life on hold. You’re not getting any younger.”

Exactly what she didn’t need today. A baby pep-talk from her mother. When she was a teen, Molly had often wished she had the kind of parents that showed up in her favorite sitcoms. The loving, supportive variety, who never pushed their kids to do things they didn’t want and loved them unconditionally for who they were. But real life wasn’t like TV, and usually you just had to do the best with what you’d got.

Her shoulders slumped as the scent of fresh kettle corn drifted on the breeze. Molly’s lifelong imposed restraint buckled under the pressure and she all but tripped over herself on her way to buy a bag. After all, she should experiment while she still had the chance, right?

Molly changed the subject while she waited in line. “What are my duties for the shower?”

“Decorations. And I’ll see if your father knows anyone.”

“For what?”

“For you. When will you be back home, dear?”

“I just got to Alaska.”

Not to mention the fact the last thing she wanted was a blind date with one of her father’s legion of devoted clones.

Molly paid and thanked the vendor then returned to the table with her popcorn. “I’m not ready to date anyone else yet. Besides, there’s a colleague here who’s giving me issues.”

“Really? Is he attractive?”

“No.”

Yes. All she had to do was picture Dr. Ryder’s stormy gray eyes, his chiseled jaw and toned muscles, and molten heat spread outward from her core to sizzle through her bloodstream. It seemed the gorgeous man caused her problems even when he wasn’t around.

If only he wasn’t her new colleague.

If only...what?

No. That line of thinking was completely unacceptable. They were working together. Molly was only here temporarily. Dr. Ryder treated her as if she harbored a deadly contagious disease. It was all so irritating and annoying and incredibly intriguing.

Scowling, she shoved another handful of popcorn in her mouth. “What difference does it make? He’s a nuisance. Challenging everything I do, every order I give.”

“Perhaps if you tried charm instead of your usual abruptness you might get further.”

Molly checked her watch. If they were going to fit another location in before she went to the hospital, they had to get a move on. “I need to go.”

“Thank you for proving my point, dear.”

She felt her mother’s disapproval like a slap.

“I’ll call you next week with a list of supplies.”

“Fine,” Molly said, though the line had already gone dead. Talk about abrupt. Clicking off her phone, she turned back to her crew. “Have you guys decided on our last stop?”

“We have.” Neal gave her his devious smile—the one that always warned of mischief ahead. “You ready?”

She tossed her trash in a nearby bin, then followed her crew toward the exit. “Can I at least get a clue where we’re headed?”

“I talked to one of the ER nurses yesterday before you arrived,” Rob said. “She’s part of a volunteer mountain rescue group. They’re practicing maneuvers today. Neal thinks it might be a nice way to segue into the local medical scene.”

* * *

“Ready, Ryder?” shouted a man in an orange emergency jumpsuit.

“Ready!” Jake yelled back.

He was currently dangling off the north face of O’Malley’s Peak, wind whistling, while his training-partner-slash-victim for this rescue was strapped to a body board.

“Victim’s secure for lift.”

He sagged into his riggings to wait, enjoying the stunning views from this vantage point. Bright autumn colors dotted the landscape as far as the eye could see, and the city of Anchorage gleamed in the distance. Most tourists cleared out of Chugach State Park this late in the season, leaving it to year-round locals like himself until the first snows hit. Then this place would be packed again, with ice-climbers, skiers and winter enthusiasts.

And, like clockwork, some of those weekend daredevils would do something ill-advised, requiring intervention. That was why he was here. Plus, volunteering for the Anchorage Rescue Team—or the ART—helped him keep his rescue skills sharp. And, particularly this weekend, he hoped the training might help him forget about a certain blond doctor who seemed to haunt his every waking moment.

Dr. Molly Flynn was proving to be a challenge. In more ways than one.

Inhaling the crisp mountain air, Jake distracted himself by double-checking both his harness and the one around his pretend victim, then tested the ropes and carabiners for strength. He’d scaled these peaks since his teens, knew every nook and cranny by heart. He and his dad had used to come here when he was in high school, just to hang out and relax.

Those carefree days seemed a million miles away now, with his parents off traveling the country by RV for three-quarters of each year, returning to Alaska only during the brief summer months. In fact Bobby was really the closest person he had left in Anchorage.

If I lose him...

Jake’s muscles tightened with anxiety. The wind gusted harder and he grabbed the ropes near his victim’s chest to steady himself. He wouldn’t lose Bobby because he couldn’t lose Bobby. Just as he couldn’t allow himself to get involved with Dr. Flynn. It would be bad. Very bad. Besides, he didn’t trust her—would never trust her. Kellie had destroyed his ability to trust.

“You trying to cop a feel, Doc?” Wendy Smith—fellow ART volunteer, an ER nurse at Anchorage Mercy and today’s pretend victim—grinned up at him from the body board. “Been there, done that—not going back again.”

“Shut up, smartass.” Jake focused on the distant hazy peaks of Denali, doing his best to shake off his melancholy. He and Wendy had known each other since grade school. “You have a rare day off too, Clutch?”

“Don’t call me that. I hate it,” she said.

Half-Inupiat and all attitude, Wendy looked like a swimsuit model, swore like a drunken drill sergeant, and had grown up fast after her mother had passed away when she was only twelve.

Living with three older brothers and having a mechanic for a father had made her into quite a tomboy, and Jake often found her tinkering with cars when she wasn’t saving lives in his ER. They’d gone out once, but the romantic sparks hadn’t been there. They’d remained good friends ever since.

“And I could ask the same of you,” she said.

“What?” He scowled. “I take plenty of time off.”

“Right.”

“I can’t help it if my patients need me.”

She gave him an exasperated look. “Whatever gets you through the night.”

He squirmed a bit. Her comment had hit too close to home. Trouble was, his time-honored excuse wasn’t getting him through the night anymore. Especially since a certain prickly and disturbingly pretty media star had arrived.

They were totally unsuited. Polar opposites on so many levels it wasn’t even funny. His best bet would be to put her out of his mind and concentrate on Bobby’s recovery. Except all it seemed to take was one thought of her and his blood burned like lit gasoline, sparking a primal rush of need he didn’t expect or want.