Doctor to the Rescue

It ripped free in a spray of rust and screeching metal. Screams tore through her as she plummeted...into a bush.

Bri could only gulp. Blink. Moan. She should have listened to her brother, she thought. Caleb was overseas on army medic duty instead of here at home in Eagle Point, Illinois, witnessing Bri make friends with her favorite shrub.

Now the shrub was squished and she was sprawled in it, lamenting her long hair. She disentangled her blond hair, then struggled to get upright amid a sharp sea of scarlet. Sweat beaded her forehead despite late-December’s chill.

Her untimely ladder escapade put a painfully ironic twist on this being the last day of “fall.”

Bri emerged, corky twigs crackling and biting like spindly wooden teeth. Jagged underbrush snagged her brother’s favorite hoodie. Bri pulled it from the branches holding it hostage. Gasp.

Pain seared her left arm. She slid the cuff and looked at it. Unnatural angle. Disbelief slid through her like the ladder off the roof. No question: arm broken.

And with it all hope of meeting the bank’s deadlines.

Dismay ran through her. Saving Landis Lodge—Eagle Point’s only retreat center and her family heritage—from foreclosure, meant renovating and renting seven cabins by mid-February. Roughly one cabin a week. She’d sold the daycare she owned in Chicago and moved home to make it happen.

Now days from Christmas, she risked losing the last thing her late mother loved—the lodge Bri had inherited and promised to save. No way could she afford contractors.

Her teeth chattered. “Where’s my stupid phone?” She needed help ASAP.

Forget going back into the bush to find her phone. A new trauma center sat right next door. Bri held her arm high and stationary and bolted from her yard, not caring if she resembled a maniac.

Eagle Point Trauma Center came into view over a leafy hill.

She’d never been so glad to see a modern facility nestled against rustic Eagle Point Lake, stately risen bluffs, scenic trails and seriously fun caves. The serene landscape of Bri’s childhood home calmed her against the mind-bending pain gnawing her arm.

Halfway to EPTC, dizziness hit Bri. She fell to her knees and clung to a parking barricade.

“She’s hurt!” someone yelled across the lot. Bri couldn’t be sure who it was. Nausea sent her face between her knees. Rapid footsteps pounding nearby pavement competed with the pulse swooshing her ears.

Strong hands gently braced her shoulders. “Hey, you okay?”

Her bad day just got worse.

Bri blinked up into the stunning aqua eyes of the absolute last person she wanted seeing her in this state.

Dr. Ian Shupe.

Yet, for the first time since meeting him weeks ago, concern and compassion emanated from the tall, dark and imposing anesthesiologist’s normally sullen eyes. “What happened, Bri?”

“Ladder slid. I f-fell,” she puffed past savage pain.

Ian’s assessing eyes quickly roved over her. “How far?”

Tremors overtook her. “Maybe nine feet.”

Did his face just pale? For sure, his jaw tightened. Probably thought she was an idiot. Ian’s warm fingers felt soft yet strong and capable as they examined her elbow.

Kate, the center’s surgical nurse, skidded in, dropped to her knees, took one look at Bri’s injured arm and gave Ian a pointed look.

He nodded once. “Already saw it. Get a gurney and splints.”

“Will do.” Kate flashed Bri a strength-infusing smile, then dashed back toward the trauma center.

“C-collar, too,” Ian called to Kate, then faced Bri again. Broad shoulders and impressive arms obviously well acquainted with a gym flexed and bunched as he maneuvered closer, training his eyes on her. His firm strength and sure demeanor erased her fears and convinced her that despite his terse reputation she was in good hands. “Where do you hurt most?”

“My left forearm. But I think I can walk the rest of—”

“No. In fact, don’t move.” Ian shirked off his suit coat, its raven color identical to his black military-style hair. Coat spread on asphalt, he settled Bri on it. His palms became her pillow. His gesture soothed. “Did you land on concrete?”

She started to shake her head but stopped when Ian’s thumbs pressed against her temples, keeping her neck still.

“No. I landed in the waiting arms of a winged euonymus.”

“A what?” Confusion amped up his cuteness.

“Big red hedge. More widely known as a burning bush.”

A congenial nod seemed out of character for his usual surly self. His fingers kneaded and prodded her bones and muscles. Fierce concentration knit his brows. Had he any idea how handsome he was in doctor mode? Her arm might be broken, but nothing was wrong with her eyes. Bri chided herself for noticing the good doctor’s bad-boy looks.

Not only had military deployments and divorce left him notoriously difficult and brooding, Bri’s heart still felt raw after the end of a bad relationship with a verbally abusive boyfriend.

Her move from the Chicago suburbs to downstate Illinois had finally given her the long-needed courage to break up with Eric two months ago. If only he’d stop calling and harassing her. Dr. Shupe’s abrasive manner reminded her too much of Eric. Except, Ian wasn’t being curt and caustic now, but gentle and thorough.

Bri huffed at the physical exam. “Nothing’s numb. Or tingly. Or blurry. I didn’t hit my head or black out, either.”

Ian’s mouth twitched. Wrestling back a smile? She’d love to see it. She didn’t think him capable of glee before now.

Bri sighed. “Sorry. Caleb’s injury training wears off on me. I’m his study buddy and procedural guinea pig. He splints, tags, bandages, braces and bores the living daylights out of me for his military medic certifications and field practice exams.”

The humor whispering along Ian’s lips in a near smile spread to his eyes now, deepening them to a breathtaking blue. They turned serious and probing. “What were you doing on the ladder?”

“Renovating the lodge. Replacing eaves.” Or attempting to.

“By yourself?”

Here came the lecture. She got enough of those from Caleb over her fierce determination to save Landis Lodge.

If she lost the lodge, she might also lose the memories, especially of childhood with Mom. Grief knotted her throat.

“Who else do I have?” She bit her lip as Ian’s eyebrows rose. But she had valid reasons to grouch. Her ex was a dud, her dad a deadbeat, her mom was deceased, her brother was deployed and a bank breathed ultimatums down her back. Now a broken arm ordeal that she didn’t have time for. But it could have been much worse. Lord, thank you for cushioning my fall.

“Who’s on call?” Bri instantly regretted her words. “You’re obviously off duty and not who’d take care of me, since you’re an anesthest—however you say it. I won’t need one of those, right?”

Ian’s vague expression did not make her feel good.

Lord, please don’t let me need surgery. Ian’s inexplicable rudeness since she’d moved back here proved she wouldn’t be his first choice in a patient.

Her new friends, Lauren and Kate, had told her that Ian only acted abrasive because he was attracted to Bri in the wake of his unwanted divorce. Gibberish.