of miles looking for a wilderness angel handing out life-saving kisses.
She reached up and cradled his face in her hot, delicate hands, and even though he couldn’t see it, he could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “I’m sorry. Were ye hoping for a couple of days off from work? Because I could go find that rake if ye want.”
“I need a bus!” a voice croaked from the bluff. “Welles! Higgins! Somebody! We’re transporting!” the croaking continued, moving closer. “Where in hell is everyone?”
The hands cradling his face disappeared, the accompanying sigh echoing his own. But then she leaned down and placed a tender kiss on his cheek, light as air but somehow still scorching. “You stay put while I go help her,” Katy said as she headed off.
“Excuse me.” Gunnar cleared his throat when he realized he sounded rather hoarse himself. “Are the medics in Pine Creek in the habit of ordering their chief around?”
He saw her silhouette stop. “They do when he’s the patient. Stay put.”
For a long moment, Gunnar felt the kiss on his cheek, drank in her scent—vanilla and campfire—and wanted to dive into it. Then his cheek cooled, and the kiss faded into the night.
A drawn-out crash came from near the shed, the cacophony of banging metal laced with a croaked string of very unladylike and quite inventive curses.
“I’m right here,” Gunnar heard Katy say at the same time he saw her penlight click on, faintly illuminating Gretchen sitting in a tangle of lawn chairs. More powerful flashlight beams arched through the darkness just as a vehicle started out on the road, the relative silence of the abandoned party shattered by the overloud beeping of an ambulance backing up.
The beeping finally stopped, and the yard turned to day when the floodlights on the rear of the ambulance came on, making Gunnar realize he still held his T-shirt up under his armpits. He pushed away from the table, then began tucking in his shirt with another sigh. Just a few more inches and those luscious lips would have been on his. Then he would have—
What the hell? Either he was a lot tougher than he thought or Wyatt had grown soft in retirement, because not only did his ribs barely hurt anymore, he felt surprisingly . . . energized. Much like he imagined Tuxedo Tim had felt after Katy breathed life back into his tiny lungs. Gunnar snorted, half tempted to look for a blowing leaf he could dodge and dart after as he headed to the ambulance.
* * *
* * *
“You should start slowing down,” Gretchen said in a raspy whisper, gesturing at the road ahead. “It’s that sign on the—”
She stopped talking when Katy drove past the entrance to Moose Point Condominiums. “I told you I’ll pick up my car tomorrow,” Gretchen continued. “I shouldn’t be driving with a painkiller in my system.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to stay at the station tonight.”
“I don’t need to be babysat,” she snapped hoarsely, “for a sore throat and three tiny stitches on my brow.”
“And a possible concussion,” Katy added, “as well as a couple of bruised ribs.”
“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“And you can go right back to taking care of yourself tomorrow.” Katy flashed her a smile. “But tonight, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”
Her passenger fell silent and stared out the side window. Katy felt her smile fade. She didn’t care how much Gretchen groused. Nobody should be alone after being so brutally attacked. And something told her a good part of Gretchen’s protests had to do with her not wanting the firefighters to see her all beaten up; Katy remembered—all too well—feeling perversely embarrassed and ashamed at finding herself a victim four weeks ago. She also knew the sense of absolute aloneness could be even more wounding than the attack itself.
“The men need to see for themselves that you’re okay,” Katy said into the silence. “You have to realize they’re going to feel responsible for your getting hurt.”
Gretchen looked over in surprise. “They were busy doing their own jobs.”
“I heard Ike say he should have known better then to send us to tend drug overdoses all by ourselves.”
“He was told there was a deputy sheriff giving CPR to one of them,” Gretchen rasped. “Ike knew we weren’t alone.”
“Where was the deputy? When I heard you scream, I only saw you and your patient.”
Gretchen dropped her gaze to her lap. “I . . . ah, I told him