The Surgeon's Christmas Baby

“Aren’t you going to give him a ride?” Luke asked.

“We don’t know anything about him,” she said.

“Who cares? He helped us, didn’t he?”

True, but what if Alonso turned out to be a serial killer or robbed them at gunpoint after she dropped him off farther down the road? Still...this was a lonely stretch of Highway 8 and the town of Paradise was fifteen miles away.

“Hey, mister, you want a ride?” Luke shouted.

Alonso waved Luke off, then put in his earbuds, threw his bag over his shoulder and started walking.

Luke jogged toward Alonso—funny how his hangover prevented him from doing chores but not racing after strangers. Alonso listened to Luke for a minute, then the two walked back to the truck.

“I told him that you were worried he might kill us.” Luke nudged Alonso’s arm. “Tell her what you said.”

Alonso flashed his white teeth. “I don’t kill. I save lives.”

“He’s a doctor, Hannah.”

“Trauma surgeon,” Alonso said.

Luke nodded to the man’s fatigues. “And he was an Army doctor in Afghanistan.”

Hannah would never have guessed the sexy, masculine man was a surgeon. “Why are you hitchhiking?”

“I took a personal leave from the University of New Mexico Hospital in Albuquerque.” He looked at Luke. “Kid, I appreciate the thought, but your sister’s uncomfortable giving me a lift.”

Luke jutted his chin. “This truck belonged to our dad, so it’s half mine and I say you can have a ride.”

Alonso glanced between sister and brother. He didn’t care to get involved in their squabble. The teen leaned in close and Alonso caught a whiff of stale alcohol on his breath. “You can ride up front,” Luke said.

“Aren’t you a little young to be drinking?”

“I’m sixteen.”

“Last I heard the drinking age around these parts was twenty-one.”

“No one pays attention to that law.”

Touché. Alonso had drunk as a teen—not often—but he’d slammed back a few beers once in a while so the homies in the ’hood wouldn’t make fun of him. It had been tough enough that the kids had picked on him for getting good grades. If not for his little sister Lea’s asthma attacks, forcing Alonso to skip school to care for her while their mother worked, he’d have been a regular Goody Two-shoes. And Goody Two-shoes never made it out of the barrio.

“Stay out of trouble, kid.” Alonso left the siblings by their truck and started down the road. He’d walked less than a minute before Hannah pulled up next to him and lowered the passenger-side window. He took out his earbuds but kept walking.

“Where are you headed?” she asked.

“Nowhere in particular.” He’d had no plan in mind when he’d left his job—just that he hoped lots of fresh air and escaping the city would restore his faith in humanity. His coworkers thought he’d lost his mind when he’d confessed that he needed a break from the blood and gore. Their disbelief hadn’t surprised him. ER doctors and nurses were adrenaline junkies who thrived on chaos. But Alonso’s past was catching up to him. He’d grown up in a rough neighborhood, watching bad things happen to good people. His time in Afghanistan was more of the same—good soldiers losing their lives at the hands of the people they were trying to help. Then he’d returned to the States, where he tried to save more lives—kids shot by kids. Women who were beaten by their boyfriends or husbands. Drug overdoses and innocent men, women and children injured by intoxicated drivers. He’d become weary of all the death and destruction and had needed to escape it for a while.

Luke poked his head out the window. “You can stay at our ranch if you want.”

“Luke!” Obviously Hannah didn’t want Alonso anywhere near her or her brother. Smart girl.

“I’m good, thanks.” He read the indecision in Hannah’s pretty blue eyes and he let his gaze linger on her.

At first glance she came off plain looking, but upon closer inspection he noticed her eyes darkened to indigo when they shone with worry. Her mouth was a little wide and he imagined what it would feel like to kiss her full lips. Damn. He’d just met Hannah and already he was thinking of having sex with her. She was smart to be wary of him.

“Luke’s right. You deserve a lift after I almost ran you down, and then made you change a flat tire.”

“Thanks.” The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it—blame it on her baby blues. Once he got situated in the truck bed, the half window in the backseat opened.

“You can sit up front with my sister.”

“I’m fine right here.” Alonso put in his earbuds but didn’t turn on the music. He shouldn’t eavesdrop, but he was curious about the siblings.

Hannah guided the pickup onto the road and Alonso closed his eyes against the cool breeze. When he’d begun his journey five days ago the high had been seventy-three. He’d headed southeast and had walked twelve hours a day, covering almost thirty-five miles per day. Each twenty-four-hour period that passed, the temperature had dropped. He guessed the first day in November hovered near sixty-five degrees.

“Why are you so mean?” Luke’s accusation drifted through the open window.

“What are you talking about?” Hannah asked.

“Making Alonso sit in the truck bed because you think he’s some psycho.”

Alonso thought Hannah should be suspicious of him. Not only didn’t she know much about him, but he carried a handgun in his duffel bag.

“Leave it be, Luke. I don’t want to argue with you.”

Luke tapped his shoulder. “Alonso.”

“What?”

“You ever rodeo?”

“No, but I’ve ridden a bucking bronc before.” In high school he and his friends, Cruz Rivera and Victor Vicario, had spent time at the Gateway Ranch, where several cowboys had taught them how to bust broncs. It took only a few short seconds in the saddle for Alonso to figure out rodeo wasn’t his sport. He’d spent the remainder of his stay at the ranch taking care of the livestock.

“I want to learn how to ride broncs,” Luke said.

“Bronc riding can be tricky.”

“But rodeo is so cool.”

Alonso sensed a wild streak in the teen—no wonder his sister appeared stressed out. “Some high schools have rodeo teams.”

“School sucks.” Luke lowered his voice. “I’m gonna drop out.”

“I doubt your parents would approve of you quitting school.”

“My mom and dad are dead.” That Luke said it so matter-of-factly left Alonso speechless.

The truck slowed, then turned onto a dirt road and drove beneath a wooden arch with the words Blue Bison Ranch painted in white across it. He should remind Hannah to stop and let him out, but the words never came.