For the Love of Ivy - Cindy Kirk Page 0,62
Indoor Sports Facility. The next, his head was pounding like a son of a gun. Derek blinked, trying to clear his suddenly blurred vision.
As if by magic a blond-haired blue-eyed angel appeared and knelt before him, her brows furrowed in concern. She smelled like vanilla and the bright lights in the gym gave her an ethereal glow. It didn’t seem right to be on his knees before such a creature. He tried to stand, but she grabbed his arm and held on tight.
“Sit down.” The warmth of her touch jolted him back to reality and told him this was no apparition. “I need to make sure you’re okay before you start moving around.”
The beating of the bass drum in his head nearly drowned out her words. Derek struggled to focus. “Are you a doctor?”
“Emergency room nurse.” She held up her left hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
He squinted and the hand came into focus. “Two.”
Her gaze met his and for a second he found himself floating, drowning in the azure depths… Until he became conscious of the noise—and the people—moving closer, encircling him, suffocating him.
The woman must have sensed his sudden distress because her voice rang out above the conversational din. “Everyone, back up.”
“Come on, folks, move along,” a man’s voice echoed. “He’ll be fine.”
The crowd dispersed and Derek’s panic subsided. Chatter turned to a distant hum. Ron Evans, one of the event’s coordinators, stepped in Derek’s field of vision. But the older man’s focus was on the nurse. “Should we call an ambulance?”
“No ambulance,” Derek answered for her. The last thing he needed was more publicity. Besides, he felt okay. Or he would if his head would quit pounding.
“I don’t believe an ambulance is necessary, Ron. But an ice pack and Tylenol would be helpful.” The nurse’s lips lifted in a rueful smile. “I’m afraid I locked up the first-aid kit a little too quickly.”
“Coming right up,” Ron said, hurrying off.
Even as she reached into her purse and pulled out a penlight, the nurse’s attention didn’t waver from Derek’s face.
A light flashed in his left eye. He jerked back.
“Hold steady,” she said in a voice that was soothing yet brooked no argument.
He did as she asked and the light flashed again.
“Your pupils react well to the light,” she said in a professional tone he found reassuring. “How’s your vision?”
“Fuzzy but getting better.” He rubbed a spot above his left temple. “My head sure hurts.”
“Ron should be back any second.” Even though the nurse’s expression remained composed, her gaze lingered on his head, on the knot that he could feel growing larger by the second. “Can you tell me who you are?”
He may have only been in Jackson Hole a short time, but there’d been lots of buzz about the baseball workshop he was holding this first weekend in December.
“I’m Derek Rossi,” he said, surprised she hadn’t recognized him.
As if she’d read his mind, her lips quirked upward. “I know who you are. I just needed to make sure you did.”
He wondered if she knew how lovely she looked when she smiled. Then he scoffed at the thought. Of course she did. She was a beautiful woman. They always knew stuff like that. Although she was married—he’d seen the diamond on her left hand—he found himself curious about his angel of mercy. “And who are you?”
“My name is Rachel Milligan.” She brushed a wayward strand of blond hair back from her face with a slender hand. “I’m an emergency room nurse at Jackson Hole Memorial. I was in charge of the first-aid station today. I’m afraid my little girl is the one who beaned you.”
“I didn’t mean to do it.”
The small voice came from his left. Ignoring the pain, Derek slowly turned his head in that direction. Rachel’s daughter stood off to the side, anxiously shifting from one foot to the other.
Rachel gave the girl a reassuring smile. “This is Joy.”
“I’m really sorry, Mr. Rossi,” the child said, drawing closer.
Derek guessed the girl to be seven, maybe eight. She was thin but not undernourished. Her face was covered in freckles and her eyes, instead of being blue like her mother’s, were a vivid green, framed by thick brown lashes. What Derek noticed most was her hair. It hung in long corkscrew curls halfway down her back. It was a tan color, not blond but not really brown either. She was cute, rather than pretty. He decided she must take after her father.
“I noticed a ball on the floor