Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 15998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
“Cursing doesn’t bother me.” Tennessee’s prim and proper appearance in a white button-down shirt, dark pants, and wool coat made me doubt his words.
“Ah. Good to know.” I examined my swelling. Yep. I’d messed something up good. “If my wrist is broken, I’m looking at weeks of light duty, which sucks.” I had sick leave, but likely, my boss, Heather, would be able to find tasks for me around the station. Maybe if I was lucky, she’d let me drive, but usually, we needed our drivers able to lift in an emergency. “I’d rather be out there working, especially since we’ve been shorthanded lately.”
“That does suck. Luckily, I’ll be able to work regardless, although typing will be a challenge. And everything else involving my dominant hand.” Tennessee gave a dejected sigh. “At least you’re left-handed.”
“You remembered.” I brightened at the revelation. Around us, more patients had filtered in while others had been called back. Some of those had arrived after us, but I was enjoying talking with Tennessee far too much to be impatient.
“Of course.” Tennessee gave another of those soft, small smiles. “Maybe mine is just a sprain. No idea how I’m going to tie my shoes, let alone pop the top on Clifford’s cat food if they put me in a cast.”
“Clifford?” I laughed because, naturally, Tennessee had a ridiculously named cat. He’d always been an animal person like me, and his parents’ rural trailer home had included any number of barn cats. I’d often helped Tennessee in his efforts to care for them when no one else seemed to bother.
“Clifford is a big orange-red cat who thinks he’s a golden retriever.” Tennessee’s tone turned fond. “He plays fetch and loves going for walks on his harness.”
“That’s too perfect. I’ve got a dog—”
“Can’t imagine you without one. What did you rescue this time?”
“A dainty little terrier named Mouse, who’s afraid of everything and rather aloof, but we’re working on it. I joke she’d make a decent cat, actually. She’s probably asleep on the back of my couch right now.”
“Aww.” Tennessee’s gaze caught mine, and the direct eye contact gave me pause. I liked him like this, warmer and looser, less anxious than he’d been at first. And the warmth and caring in his baby-blue eyes made me wonder what else I could do to earn his affection.
“Johnson?” A nurse I vaguely recognized called me from near the double doors leading to the back with the examination cubicles. “Let’s get your vitals and get you off to radiology.”
“Quick. Give me your number.” I flicked my phone open to my contacts screen.
“My number?” Tennessee’s eyes went wide like I’d asked his underwear preference.
“Yeah. For after we’re both done. I’ll give you a ride and help you with the cat food. And anything else.” If I was going to be out of commission as an EMT for a while, I’d have plenty of time on my hands, and there was nowhere I’d rather spend it than getting to know Tennessee all over again.
Chapter Three
Tennessee
I didn’t truly expect Tate to wait for me. Sure, he had messaged several cheery updates while we were in separate exam rooms. And we’d passed in the hall on the way to radiology with our respective attendants. But somehow, I expected him to have better things to do than follow through on the ride home and the help he’d offered. However, there he was, waiting on a bench near the main lobby when I finally emerged.
As I approached Tate, I held my arm up. I had an ugly black cast with Velcro straps stabilizing my wrist, the same as him. “We match.”
“We do.” He held his own cast aloft. “Hairline fracture of the radius.”
“Buckle fracture.” I made a face. “I have to see an orthopedist next week for a consult.”
“I know a good one.” He smiled broadly at me. “Mine should be fine in six weeks, but six long weeks of light duty, damn it.”
“Poor baby. Less work and taking it easy sounds miserable for a go-getter like you.” I smiled back. Despite all the years that had passed, he was still delightfully Tate. “The doctor said my cast should take six weeks as well. Maybe we can meet up again for a cast-off celebration?”
I hoped that sounded friendly and not suspiciously date-like. We might be old friends and both queer, but that didn’t mean anything.
Tate snorted. “Ha. You’re kidding yourself if you think I’m letting six weeks go before I see you again.”
“I guess we do have some catching up to do,” I said slowly. I wasn’t entirely sure how to take his enthusiastically possessive reply.
“And it sounds like you might need help feeding Clifford.” Standing, he pointed in the direction of the signs leading to the parking garage.
“You remembered my cat’s name?” I wasn’t sure why I was surprised. Tate had always had a good memory. “And I really can get a ride back to my place. I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”