CHAPTER TWO

      LAUREN BLINKED AT the bright light coming from the hospital emergency department entrance. The ride hadn’t been the worst one of her life but it had been uncomfortable. She’d spent most of it with her body twisted toward the back and her arms between the seats, holding Paxton’s hands while she blew on them.

      They were strong, capable hands. She had already learned that. His fingers were long and tapered down to well-manicured nails. They weren’t as soft as she’d expected. Something about them made her think of security. That he could take care of himself and anyone else he cared about.

      As they’d driven she’d seen him studying her, his face faintly lit by the dashboard lights. Tingles of self-awareness had flickered through her, as though she were a specimen under a microscope. She feared he was analyzing her both in appearance and intelligence, and passing judgment. Did she fall short or measure up?

      They were to the outskirts of Lippscomb before he said, “You can stop. I have feeling now.”

      “That’s good but you’re not out of the woods yet. You’ll still require medical attention to make sure there hasn’t been further damage.” She struggled to conceal her relief. Her back hurt and she had become ever more aware of him as a man the longer she’d held his hands.

      More disturbing were her sharp memories of his body pressed against hers in the cab and when they had been entangled on the ground. Despite the bitter weather and her thick clothing, she’d been conscious of his warmth and his body against hers. Was it because she’d not let a man so close in such a long time? What was this odd reaction she was having to a stranger? Whatever it was she had to put a stop to it. Nothing about it was healthy.

      Rick had done a good job of driving but the going had been slow. The snow had slackened but the bitter wind had picked up. When Rick stopped at the emergency department door Lauren hurried inside to let the staff know they had arrived. Earlier Rick had radioed ahead, telling the hospital they were on their way.

      She headed straight for the unit desk, which was draped with garlands and red and gold Christmas balls. The clerk, wearing reindeer antlers, looked up.

      “Hey, I’m Lauren Wilson from Last Stop. I’ve got two patients in the car. One needs a wheelchair.”

      Lauren didn’t wait for her response before returning to her patients.

      Paxton, as she suspected, had climbed out of the car in order to assist their patient.

      She rushed to him. “I’ll take care of Mr. Thompson. You should be concerned about your hands.”

      “He’s my responsibility,” Paxton growled through pain she was sure he was trying to hide.

      “And you’re mine,” she snapped.

      Glancing behind her, Lauren was pleased to see the unit staff hurrying toward them with a wheelchair.

      She pointed to Mr. Thompson. “He needs the chair.”

      Mr. Thompson settled into his chair and Paxton walked into the hospital beside him. She and Rick followed close behind them. When Paxton reached the unit desk he said, “I’m Dr. Paxton Samuels. I need to speak to the attending.”

      Lauren hurried forward. “I’ll take care of giving report. You’re a patient as of now and you need to worry about having those hands properly tended.”

      “They’re fine.”

      “Doctors never make good patients,” she muttered.

      “I heard that,” Paxton said with a glare. “I’m sure my fingers have recovered.”

      “I think we need to get a second opinion. Last Stop needs a doctor with good hands.”

      He gave her a stricken look then nodded. “Okay, but I want to be informed about my patients.”

      “Not a problem.”

      “Hey, Lauren,” Henry, a doctor and friend who was wearing a Santa hat on his head, said as he came up the hall toward them.

      “Hi, Henry.” She gave him a smile.

      “What do you have for us tonight?” Henry looked at Paxton with curiosity.

      “You’ve already gotten one of our accident victims, Lewis Williams. Head trauma and hypothermia. We have another head trauma, Art Thompson—” she pointed toward a cubicle where he’d been taken “—in there who needs to be seen.”

      “I’m Doc—” Paxton tried to butt in.

      Lauren didn’t slow down. She gestured to Paxton. “This is Dr. Samuels. He’s a possible frostbite case.”

      Henry told a nurse who had just joined them, “Take him to trauma three and get him started on the frostbite protocol. I’ll see the head trauma you brought in first. Lauren, come with me and tell me what’s going on.”

      Throughout the brief exchange Paxton looked from her to Henry and back again. He appeared puzzled by their discussion. A couple more times he made noises as if he was going to interrupt but before he could utter anything the unit tech pushed him away.

      Lauren stowed her outer clothing behind the nurses’ station and joined Henry in Mr. Thompson’s room. He was sitting up and talking to the nurse. Lauren shared what she knew about his case. A few minutes later they were on their way to Paxton’s room.

      “So, who is this Dr. Samuels?” Henry asked.