The Best Laid Plans

“Well, then, unless they’re engaged, she’s still up for grabs. A nice guy like you shouldn’t have much trouble convincing her to give you a shot.”

“I don’t know about that. The last two women I dated broke up with me because I’m supposedly too nice. Then there were the ones who didn’t want to settle down with a guy who didn’t aspire to be more than, and I quote, ‘an ambulance driver.’”

Serena made a sharp left as she followed the fire truck in the lead. There was nothing she hated more than being called an ambulance driver. As if riding in an ambulance was akin to taking a taxi. “Who said that? That teacher you were dating?”

“That’s the one.”

“Don’t you listen to a word that woman had to say. She was all wrong for you. I could have told you that after ten minutes of talking to her. She also shouldn’t work in a school. She hates children. She shouldn’t settle down with anyone.”

Charlie couldn’t argue with Serena’s impression of Jenny, the fifth-grade teacher he’d dated for over two months. She was cute and funny, but not the most compassionate soul he’d ever met.

“Emma’s not like Jenny. I think she falls more in the first category—unimpressed with nice guys. We’re helping plan the wedding for her sister and my friend. I tried to be agreeable about everything, but somehow that didn’t seem to win her over. I got the sense she didn’t find my cooperativeness very interesting.”

“Your cooperativeness?” Serena laughed. “Oh, Charlie. You can’t agree with everything the woman says.”

“What is wrong with agreeing with a woman? Don’t women love to be right? You love being right. Wouldn’t you like it if a guy told you that you were?”

“I like being right, but where’s the fun in it if the guy never tries being wrong?”

Charlie wasn’t following.

“Most women like a challenge, partner. They want to be right, but only after they’ve had to fight for it a little bit. What’s the point of being right if no one disagrees with you? How do you gloat if the guy was on the same page all along?”

Now he saw her point. “So you’re saying arguing is a turn-on?”

“I’m saying no one wants a guy who has no opinion. Be a nice man, but be a man.”

She’d given him a lot to think about. He’d have to ponder it all later, though. They pulled up to their destination, an older home on a street that was filled with an equal mix of rebuilds and soon-to-be teardowns. Flashy million-dollar condos stood next to run-down single-family homes that were in desperate need of a new coat of paint. This one could use some work, but the owner obviously cared about appearances. There were several flower boxes of vibrant red-and-purple petunias hanging from the front porch.

Several people had congregated outside the house, standing on the sidewalk and gawking at the smoke billowing out a back window. A young man sat on the curb next to an older woman who was rubbing his back as he rocked with eyes closed and his hands over his ears. The call was to put out a reported kitchen fire. The firefighters went in to check it out while Charlie and Serena planned to attend to any residents who had been inside.

The woman on the curb jumped up as they approached, explaining that her autistic son had been making lunch when something caught fire. The smoke alarm had frightened the teenager and he’d become agitated. She’d struggled to get him out of the house, which had allowed the fire to spread out of her control. She was worried about the amount of smoke they had inhaled.

“What’s his name, ma’am?” Charlie asked as Serena checked the woman’s pulse and monitored her breathing.

“Brian,” she replied. Her voice trembled and her hands shook. “I don’t know how to help him when he gets like this. It’s so hard to help him.”

“We’re here to help you both,” Charlie said to reassure her. He approached Brian slowly. “Hi, Brian. My name’s Charlie.”

Brian didn’t respond. His hands stayed clamped over his ears. The blaring sirens probably hadn’t helped his state of mind any. Charlie crouched down so they were eye level and attempted to gauge the young man’s condition without touching him. He was wheezing a little bit, but there didn’t seem to be anything obstructing his airway.

“I know all this is pretty overwhelming, but I heard you were in the kitchen with all that smoke. I’m going to check your pulse, so I have to touch you on the wrist. Okay?”

Again, there was no answer from the boy, but his mom nodded her head when Charlie looked to her for permission. Cautiously, Charlie reached for Brian’s hand. Serena opened the blood pressure cuff at the same time, the sound of Velcro separating startling Brian. He reacted violently, kicking his legs and flailing his arms. Charlie took a strong left hook to the jaw.

“Leave me alone!” Brian cried before coughing uncontrollably.

Serena came over to help. Her voice was quiet but firm. “Brian, we’re paramedics here to help you. You inhaled some smoke. I need you to calm down.”

Charlie could taste the blood in his mouth. His teeth had bitten into his cheek and his jaw was throbbing. Brian’s mom tried to bring him under control, but he would not be subdued. Charlie gathered his wits and went to his bag for a sedative. For the safety of everyone involved, they had no option but to give Brian a shot. Within seconds, the teen was docile and his eyelids heavy.

“I’m so sorry,” his mom said over and over. “He’s not a violent person. He’s a sweet boy.”

Charlie assured her he was unhurt and that she didn’t have to apologize. Now that the boy was relaxed, they could move Brian to a stretcher and give him some oxygen.

“That was some hit. You sure you’re okay?” Serena asked Charlie, taking a look in his mouth to assess the damage.

“I’m fine.”

Serena touched his tender jaw then tried to get a second glance inside her partner’s mouth, but he lifted his chin so she couldn’t see anything but his neck.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “We should bring them both in.”

As they loaded mother and son into the ambulance, Charlie focused on the potential of seeing Emma at the hospital. It was the only bright spot in a less-than-stellar day.

* * *

AT THE HOSPITAL, the triage nurse got Brian and his mom settled in. Charlie stood at the nurses’ station, icing his jaw while Serena helped him fill out the paperwork to document his injury. He should have known better than to approach Brian when the boy was under that much duress.

“I heard not even Mike Tyson could have taken that kid,” a voice said from behind.

Charlie turned to find his Nightingale standing there in her navy scrubs. Her hair was down but pinned up in the front. Her cheeks and lips were a rosy red, and even though she’d probably been on her feet for several hours, she looked incredible.

“I’m a lover not a fighter. I didn’t stand a chance.” It sort of hurt to smile, but he did it, anyway. The smile she gave him back was worth all the pain.

“Ah, you’re a pacifist. Good to know. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

Serena clearly couldn’t stop herself from butting in. “He keeps saying that, but he didn’t see the kid’s fist hit his face.”

“No, but I felt it. I think I should know if I’m fine or not,” he said defensively. Serena had told him to act like a man, but she was making it next to impossible. Charlie didn’t mind when people called him a gentle giant, but he didn’t want to look as if he couldn’t take a hit.

“Do you want me to check you out real quick? Make sure you don’t need any stitches or anything?” Emma offered. “That’s quite a bruise you’ve got already.” Her hand reached up and gently caressed his aching jaw. Her touch soothed better than the world’s greatest balm.

“Maybe you should take a look,” he relented, opting to take advantage of every second he could get with her.

“Come sit over here.” She led him into a small care room where she shone a light in his mouth. Her proximity made him feel a little light-headed. At least he hoped it was her and not the punch to the face. She smelled clean, like soap and baby powder.

“I don’t think you need stitches, but I can grab a doctor if you want me to,” she offered.

“No, I’m good.”

She gave him a cup of water to clean out his mouth. Charlie couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. She had a little mole on her collarbone and the thickest eyelashes he’d ever seen. Her eyes were brown but edged in green. They were so unusual and completely mesmerizing.

“Do you want something for the pain?”

“Nah. Thanks for taking care of me, though,” he said. “I’m not used to being the patient.”