A Mummy For His Baby. Molly Evans
opened again, to admit the ambulance crew with their stretcher and equipment.
“Did we miss the party?” A leggy brunette paramedic stuck her head into the room, offering a cheery grin, but her observant dark eyes were looking for anything that was out of place.
“You sure did. It was a doozy, too.” Aurora shook her head, still in shock at the day’s events.
“Aurora...?” the paramedic said, and frowned as if she were trying to figure something out. “Is that really you? I haven’t seen you in years! It’s Missy!”
The woman who had gone to high school with Aurora held her arms out and embraced her.
“Missy—hi! Yeah. It’s me.” She gave a nervous laugh. This was turning into quite a day of friends from her past showing up unexpectedly. “It was a trip I hadn’t really planned. But here I am. It’s great to see you.”
“You, too. Everyone okay?” Missy asked. Those eyes of a trained observer looked around the room again, focusing on the mom and baby.
“I think so—but they’re going to need a trip to the hospital for a full exam.” Beau stripped his gloves off and tossed them on the growing pile of trash.
“You got it. Sirens or no sirens?” Missy gave a smile and a wink.
“No sirens today.” Beau shook his head and gave an amazed laugh. “Wow!”
Cathy reached out to Beau and he stepped forward and clasped her hand. “Beau. I hate to ask this right now, but can I have my maternity leave starting today?”
Everyone laughed at the absurd request.
“Of course you can. It’s not a problem. But I’ll miss you, and I just hope I don’t destroy the place while you’re gone.”
“You won’t. You’ll be fine.”
“Six weeks, right?”
“Yes. I’ll let you know if it needs to be longer.” She cast a loving eye on her husband and her baby as tears filled her eyes. “This has been such an amazing event, I’m not sure I’m going to want to come back.”
“Don’t talk like that.” Beau squeezed her fingers again and shook Ron’s hand. “Just keep me updated and let me know when you’re ready to come back.” He snorted. “If you are.”
“I will. I promise.”
“Ready now?” Missy asked.
“Ready.” Cathy sighed and clutched the baby securely in both arms.
After mother and baby had been packed onto the stretcher and were headed to the hospital Aurora and Beau faced each other, alone for the first time since the event had begun. For a few seconds they stared at each other, unblinking, then Aurora laughed.
The tension-reliever caught her by surprise, and she clasped her hands to her face. “Beau! We delivered a baby!”
“I know—I was here.” A grin split his face and he held his arms wide. “Now that all the excitement is over, let’s have a proper greeting. Come here.”
“I don’t think I can walk after that. My legs are shaking.”
But she had enough strength to close the gap, and Beau met her halfway.
“You held it together during a crisis—the sign of a true professional, right? That’s the most important part.” He closed his long arms around her and squeezed.
THE SURGE OF adrenaline and attraction that pulsed through her was completely unexpected in the embrace of an old friend she hadn’t seen in ten years.
Her heart did a little flip at the sight of his long, sun-bleached blond hair that had a tendency to fall into his eyes, and the strength in that jaw she hadn’t remembered being so masculine. Memories of the past, of her secret crush on him, surged forward, and she hesitated a second, trying to breathe through the onslaught of unanticipated emotions suddenly swirling within her.
Wow. She certainly hadn’t expected this reaction.
Though she’d sworn off men after her recent painful break-up, her hormones obviously hadn’t taken the same oath.
Clearing her throat, she reined in those wandering senses of hers that appreciated a fine-looking man. Now wasn’t the time to be ogling anyone—let alone a good friend—no matter how broad those shoulders were.
She returned the embrace, trying not to gasp in pain. The strength of his arms, the pressure of his hug closed in on her, lighting up the injuries in her back like an electrical grid. A groan of discomfort escaped her throat.
“Did I hurt you?” He pulled back, his green eyes assessing, concern evident, and ran his gaze over her face, trying to determine what had happened.
“I’m sorry. I’m in quite a lot of pain right now—which is why I’m here to see you in the first place.”
Back to her original goal: to be pain and medication-free, to get her life back in order. Starting now.
“Pain? You hid it well during this whole thing.” He released her and gave her one gentle pat on the shoulder.
“Probably an adrenaline surge got me through.”
He lifted one hand and indicated that she walk ahead of him into the nearby patient room. “You’re my last patient of the day, so we can take our time—have a look at you and do some catching up.” The dark brows over his green eyes lowered, pinning her with a direct look. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“I’ll give you the short version. Car wreck. Lots of back pain. I want to get off the pain medications.”
The last few months had been beyond brutal. A severe car crash had ripped her life and her relationship apart. Every time she told the story the pain surfaced—the emotional pain she’d gone through as well as the physical pain which was the reason for her visit today.
She handed him a folder with copies of her medical records. “The long version is in here. If you don’t mind, read it later. Right now I just want to see if you can help me with the pain.”
That was short, sweet and to the point. Rehashing her past wasn’t going to help her today. Telling him about the fight with her boyfriend—the reason for her car accident—was going to have to wait. The end of their relationship had come soon after the crash, due to her physical scars, and had destroyed her.
“That doesn’t sound very good.” He harrumphed and placed the manila folder aside and focused on her. “I’ll take a look at that later, for sure. Right now I want to look at you.”
“Thanks, Beau. I’m sorry, but I hate this pain. Every time I move something hurts, and then if I stay still too long I get stiff.”
The pain receded slightly as she walked along beside him, but the memory of it lingered.
“I can’t win.”
Tears pricked her eyes, but she pushed them back. Tears hadn’t been tolerated by her father, so she’d learned to suppress her emotions. Even now she had difficulty sharing them.
“You certainly can win—but winning may look a little different than you thought. You were in a serious crash. Getting through an experience like that takes time.” They entered the patient room. “Did you go through any physical therapy?”
“Yes. Two months of inpatient rehab. They said they did everything they could, but there’s got to be something else.”
Tears filled her eyes—tears she’d thought she’d finished shedding. Desperation circled her heart and squeezed hard. The pressure in her chest of the emotional pain focused there was like talons, digging in and not letting go.
“Though