Unexpected Lovers (2 page)

“Nice to meet you, Cale.”

“You too, Whitney. Got yourself in a bit of a pickle, huh?”

“Yeah. You could say that.”

“I’m sure Ryan is taking good care of you, but we need to get you on this backboard, in the basket, and out of here.”

“Are you ready, Whitney?” Ryan asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

“How’s your pain now?”

“A little better.”

“Good. This is going to hurt.” Ryan positioned the backboard next to her and then moved around to her other side. “I’m going to roll you toward me, and Cale is going to slide the board under you. Ready? On three.”

Firm hands grasped her shoulder and her hip, and she had to fight the urge to moan.

“One—two—three.”

When she was rolled on her side, she came face-to-face with his groin and her hand grasped his thigh in an attempt to steady her rocking world. “Sorry,” she murmured, pulling her hand away.

He chuckled softly. “No problem.”

A few moments later, she’d been rolled back and secured to the board with straps across her chest, abdomen and thighs. He gently brushed the hair from her face as her gaze sought his when he secured her head with two foam cushions. “Just to keep your neck stable,” he whispered. “We’ll have you out of here in a minute.”

His fingers slipped down her arm near the strap to check for circulation and she grasped them between her own, squeezing slightly.

“Thanks, Ryan.”

“My pleasure,” he answered, his voice dropping an octave.

“Ready?” Cale asked, standing near her feet.

Ryan moved up toward her head and out of her line of vision, but she knew he still stood nearby when the deep rumble of his voice met her ear.

“Let’s move on three.” He counted out loud, and moments later, the two men lifted her in the air and headed toward the basket. They quickly strapped her down and cushioned around her with foam. When her questioning gaze met his, Ryan answered, “To keep you from bumping around too much when they lift the basket up the rocks. Be prepared, darlin’, it’s going to hurt some.”

The endearment appeared to slip so easily from his mouth, she frowned.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Up you go then.”

The basket swung, and she stifled a scream as it rocked and bumped against the outcroppings. Luckily, within moments, she was lifted over the edge and surrounded by more rescuers. They quickly loaded her into the back of the waiting ambulance, and within moments, Ryan joined her.

“How are you doing?” he asked as the lights and sirens came on and they pulled out onto the road.

With a forced exhale, she answered, “Okay.”

“You don’t sound okay.” He bent over her arm and stuck her with another needle.

“That hurts.”

“Sorry, darlin’. I have to start an IV so I can get some fluids in you. I’m sure you’re a bit dehydrated.”

She licked her lips, and his gaze narrowed as it fixed on her mouth before it returned to her arm and his task.

Does he realize the endearments that keep slipping out?

“We’ll be at the helicopter shortly, and they’ll take it from there. Do you need something else for pain?”

Reaching over his head, he grabbed a plastic bag and ripped it open with his teeth.

“Helicopter?”

“Yep. Quickest way to get you to Flagstaff.”

“I hate to fly.”

A warm chuckle burst from his lips, and his gaze focused on her face again. “Don’t have much choice in the matter, sweetheart. You need a doctor and soon.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“What?”

“Sweetheart and darlin’.”

Broad shoulders lifted in a shrug, bringing her vision to the muscles of his chest as they rippled and bunched under his shirt. “Sorry. Habit, I guess. You’re a pretty woman. What can I say?”

“And you’re a major flirt, Ryan.”

He chuckled and said, “Sue me.”

“What’s your last name?”

“Why?”

“Curiosity. You look like you might be Irish with those hazel eyes.”

“Last name’s O’Rourke.” He messed with something off to his left above her head that she couldn’t see. “What’s yours?”

“Scott.”

“Nice.”

“Thanks.”

“So what are you doing hiking one of the roughest trails in the canyon by yourself, Whit?”

“I wasn’t by myself.”

“No? I didn’t see anyone else around.”

“He left.”

“He?”

“Yeah. My husband.” She didn’t know why, but she had the incredible urge to share with Ryan what Eric had done. Tears slipped from the corner of her eyes and into her hair.

“Don’t cry.”

“I’ve been married to Eric for five years.”

“Didn’t mean to pry.” He tenderly wiped the tear from her cheek.

“He tried to hurt me. We’ve been having problems, but I never thought he’d try this.”

His shocked expression met hers, and she had to explain. Ryan would understand. For some reason, she knew he would. “He tried to kill me for insurance money.”

“You’re serious?”

She frowned when irritation at his question zinged down her back. “I didn’t throw myself down the damned canyon, Ryan.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like I didn’t believe you. I think it’s incredible that someone would do that, especially to a nice girl like you.”

“Yeah, well, money talks in certain circles.”

The whirl of the helicopter blades sounded in the distance when the ambulance came to a stop.

“Ryan?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you come with me?”

“I’ll be right beside you the whole time.”

“Thanks.”

* * * *

I can’t believe what I just heard. Someone tried to kill her? Damn!
He frowned when an unexpected protective feeling surged through his chest.
How could anyone want to hurt a woman? That’s insane. Hurting a woman is a coward’s way of handling things.

“Hey man,” the pilot said, approaching the gurney as they wheeled her toward the still-whirling helicopter. “Priority?”

“Yeah, let’s move.”

The pilot opened the back, and they slid her inside. Ryan climbed in beside her, and the pilot secured the doors. He slipped on his flight helmet and adjusted the microphone.

“Tell me how you feel, Whit.”

She opened her baby blues, and his heart clenched. Her brown hair lay in wet, sticky tendrils on her forehead, but her eyes held him spellbound. Dirt streaked across her face, and he fought the urge to brush the hair back and stroke her cheek.
No getting that close to the patient, Ryan. Bad idea.

“I hurt,” Whitney said as her face scrunched in pain.

“Where?” he asked.

“My hip and my back mostly.”

“Let me give you something else then.”

“How long before we get to the hospital.”

“Not long.”

Her eyes closed again, and she whispered, “Good.”

I want to help her so bad. How could anyone want to hurt her?

“Chopper One to Flagstaff ER,” he called into the headset with a push of his finger on the side of the helmet.

“This is Flagstaff. Go Chopper One.”

“Chopper One. One female patient, approximately late twenties, priority one.”

“Twenty-eight,” she murmured, without opening her eyes.

He smiled and shook his head.

“Vital signs are stable. Assessment indicates possible head, back, chest and neck trauma although patient alert and oriented times four. Patient on backboard with head and neck stabilized. No active bleeding at this time. Patient able to move lower extremities minimally. Patient indicates pain to left hip and lumbar. Probable fracture left femur with obvious deformity noted. IV established with normal saline bolus infusing. Morphine four milligrams given. Permission to give Dilaudid two milligrams intravenous push.”

“Affirmative. Dilaudid two milligrams intravenous,” replied a familiar voice on the other end of the headset.

Good. Brett’s there today.

Brett Novak was the best emergency room physician Ryan knew, even if they were cousins. Most people confused the two of them as siblings since their mothers were identical twins. With similar facial features, it wasn’t hard to fathom why anyone who didn’t know them figured they were brothers, but the biggest difference was the color of their eyes. While Ryan’s were the distinctive hazel color of his mother, Brett had the brown eyes of his father’s side of the family, the Novak’s out of Tennessee.

“Copy. ETA ten minutes.”

“Copy Chopper One. See you in a few, Ryan.”

“Chopper One out.”

He reached to his right and grabbed the pain medication to give her, pushed the air out of the syringe, and hooked it to the tube in her arm. Glancing quickly at her face, the penetrating blue eyes sucked him in again.

“What are you giving me?”

“Dilaudid. It’s the best pain medication available.”

“How long have you been a paramedic?”

“Five years.”

The helicopter shifted slightly, and he knew they were getting close to the landing pad at the hospital.

“How about you? What do you do?”

A frown wrinkled the skin between her eyebrows. “I’m a little rich bitch according to Eric.”

“Eric’s an asshole.”

The watery chuckle that burst from her lips had him smiling and made his heart squeeze.

“I like you, Ryan.”

Within moments, the helicopter landed with a jarring jolt, and the rear doors whipped open. Two sets of hands grabbed the backboard and slid her onto the gurney as Ryan slipped out from behind it.

The technicians started to push her toward the entrance to the hospital, but stopped when she said, “Wait. Ryan?”

He moved to her side and grasped her fingers, squeezing lightly. “I’m right behind you, Whit.”

“Okay.”

Large glass doors swung open when they approached, and within moments of entering the trauma bay, people surrounded her, almost blocking her from his view.