Fighting for Keeps. Jennifer Snow
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they were tough to shake. And Lindsay fit a clear stereotype in Brookhollow. He knew firsthand how annoying it was to be pegged a certain way and never given the benefit of a doubt. That was why he kept his past a secret from his friends. “Never mind.”
“Okay, maybe I can see why you like her, but, man, she does not like you,” Brandon said, tugging off Noah’s training gloves and unwrapping his hands.
“Believe me, I’ve noticed.”
It only made him want her to even more.
His entire life he’d met with challenges and adversity and he’d been successful in overcoming a lot. Could he meet the challenge of the five-foot-two, brilliant blonde who held firm to her own prejudice about him?
* * *
LINDSAY CRINGED AT the sound of the clinic door opening. The fourteen-hour shift continued with no end in sight. Her feet ached, even in her practical nursing shoes, and the last thing she’d eaten was half a protein bar as she’d rushed from one patient to another.
All she wanted was a cigarette, but each time she reached into her purse for her emergency pack, she heard her niece’s teary plea.
This day couldn’t end soon enough.
As she turned toward the door she almost wished it was another infected six-year-old as her eyes met Noah’s. What was he doing here again?
“Noah, if you have another self-inflicted injury—” She stopped when her gaze fell to the picnic basket he carried, the smell of fried chicken from Joey’s diner on Main Street filling the tiny waiting room.
Several patients, who’d been waiting hours to see a doctor, stared longingly at the basket and she had to swallow to stop from salivating.
“You brought your dinner into a medical clinic where people have been waiting for hours to see a doctor?” Talk about insensitive.
“It’s not for me,” he said, moving the magazines aside on the waiting room table. Setting the basket down, he opened it.
Lindsay’s eyes narrowed as she watched him remove two large buckets of the chicken and a stack of paper plates and napkins...and Tina’s famous potato salad...
Her weakness.
“Everyone, help yourselves,” he said, opening a grocery bag and handing out apple juice to the kids.
The waiting, hungry patients didn’t need any more prompting as they passed around the plates and the food.
Huh, that was...unexpected. And a little bit fantastic.
He took a smaller container from the basket. “Here. I wasn’t sure if greasy, fried food was your thing, so I brought you a BLT, with a side order of potato salad.”
Above and beyond. Who would have thought?
“Thank you. This was really nice of you.” She hesitated, still a little dumbfounded, but more than a little starving.
“Take a few minutes to eat. They are.” He nodded to the group devouring the impromptu food delivery.
“Okay.” She headed down the hall, but paused when she noticed he wasn’t following her. “You coming?” Her question must have surprised him as his eyebrows shot up.
He smiled. “No, you’re busy. I just wanted to stop by to take care of the pretty lady who’s taking care of everyone else.”
She felt her cheeks go red. “Well, thank you. Again.”
“Anytime,” he said over his shoulder as he left.
Unwrapping the sandwich where she stood, she watched Noah cross the parking lot to his motorcycle. So dangerous, so carefree—he really was the kind of man who preferred to live life on borrowed time.
She could never be with a man like Noah, but she had to admit, with each delicious bite of her BLT, she was beginning to feel huge regret about it.
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