to like?” Damn. Had she really said that? She didn’t even know this guy.
He was going to think she was pale, tired, stressed and also very possibly insane.
“Rosie mentioned that you work in the ER.” His tone was gentler than it had been a moment earlier. “That must be stressful.”
“The—? Oh, yes. We call it the emergency department. And it’s not too bad. You get used to it. After a while it becomes a job. Something you deal with.”
“Right.”
“I mean, to some extent you’re a well-trained machine.” She felt herself tense as a little girl wearing a red scarf and a pair of furry antlers skated across the ice to her daddy. Any moment now she was going to fall and bang her head. Technically Katie was off duty, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to walk past an injured person.
Jordan cleared his throat. “We should probably get going.”
“In a minute—” The girl in the red scarf was halfway across the ice now, right in the middle of the rink with people swirling round her. She looked so small and vulnerable.
“Katie—”
“Why isn’t her dad holding her hand? She could fall and bang her head.”
“A machine.” He folded his arms and glanced from her to the girl. “Yeah, that’s what I’m seeing. You don’t give a damn, do you? No emotion there at all.”
She gave him the look she usually reserved for Vicky at her most annoying. “There’s nothing emotional about being an advocate for accident prevention.”
“Nothing at all. But that kid probably grew up skating. She’ll be fine. Let’s go.” Jordan stepped past her just as the girl reached the other side and was swept into the arms of her proud father.
Katie relaxed. “Right.” Breathe, breathe.
“If you’re a machine, then it figures that you can switch off the doctor mode. Program yourself to shut down.”
“I admit that particular switch might be broken. My systems might have crashed.”
“You’ll be better after a few days in the mountains. Fresh air, sunshine and snow is the best cure for that.”
“Let’s hope so.” She had a feeling that it was going to take more than a few days in the mountains to make her feel better.
His car was warm and comfortable, and Katie relaxed into her seat, relieved to have to think about nothing but being a passenger. She closed her eyes, but unwanted images immediately returned so she opened them again. Part of her had been hoping she’d left it behind, but it had obviously come with her.
“You said you love your life. What do you do?”
“I’m an arborist.” He eased into the flow of traffic. “A tree surgeon. You’re a human doctor and I’m a tree doctor, so we have that in common at least.”
She turned her head. “Trust me, we have nothing in common.” Instantly she felt guilty. What was wrong with her? The guy had met her at the airport for goodness’ sake, and she was behaving as if he’d kidnapped her against her will. It was as if life had drained all her usual self, leaving only a shell. Maybe she was a machine. “You’ve known Dan a long time?”
“We met in ski school. I was ten and he was eight.”
“And how old are you now?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Am I allowed to ask your age, too?”
“I’m one hundred and three.”
He laughed. “And I’m thirty. Dan is twenty-eight.”
Six years older than Rosie.
“And you’re still friends. So I guess that means he’s loyal, at least.” She felt a twinge of anxiety for her sister, who was so gentle and always saw the best in people. “Tell me about him.”
“What do you want to know? Dan has always loved sports. He’s a great skier, he rowed in college, and now—”
“Not that. Give me the bad stuff. Drugs? Drinking? Narcissistic tendencies? Arrests? Tell me all the embarrassing moments from your friendship.”
“The term ‘friendship’ doesn’t usually include bad-mouthing your friend.” There was an edge to his voice and he shifted his grip on the wheel. “Do you ask these questions of all the men you date?”
“No. But I ask them of the men my sister dates, because she never sees a dark side to anyone.”
“That fits with what I know of her. She’s very open. Trusting. Good for Dan.”
What Katie wanted to know was whether Dan was good for Rosie. “So what are you going to say in your speech?”
“Speech?”
“You’re best man. You give a speech, where no doubt you wheel out stories about wild weekends with prostitutes. A gambling habit? Cocaine?