‘Why Auckland now?’
Answer fast before I fall asleep.
‘It’s where the next job came up.’
That woke her a little. ‘You move around a lot?’
Like my dad does?
‘Depends on what turns up.’
If she could move she’d shake him, but then she’d already known how irritating he could be. Worse, he was sounding more like her father with everything he said. ‘You ever just talk for the sake of it?’
To keep your patient distracted from her situation?
‘I have been known to.’
She gave up. That darkness was pressing in, relieving her of any control. Don’t think about that. Sienna groaned and slurred out a question that was totally irrelevant to anything. ‘What time is it?’
* * *
‘Five thirty.’
Harry continued tucking the thermal blanket around Sienna, all the while keeping an eye on her. It wasn’t hard. Even injured and stranded out in the middle of a storm she was beautiful, and stirred his blood relentlessly. Once they got out of this mess he was going to have to do something about Dr Frosty, who wasn’t as frosty as he’d first presumed.
She used it to cover real emotions. Emotions he’d noticed flitting across those stunning blue eyes during the time they’d been together on the hill. He’d seen how her decline into sleep had briefly halted when he’d answered her question about moving around a lot in the affirmative. Had someone important kept moving away from her when she needed them? A partner; husband; lover? He could keep guessing or get on with being the emergency doctor he revelled in being. ‘Have you got an underlying condition I should know about?’ he asked without any hope of getting an answer. The shock had caught up and she was that far gone now.
But, ‘N-no-o.’ Sleep slurred her speech.
He could relax on that one. ‘Good. You’re safe at the moment. Our pilot’s one of the best and he’ll return the first instant he can. We’ll get you out of here in one piece, Sienna.’ But only when it was safe to do so. Another helicopter crash was not on the cards.
‘Safe?’
He nodded. As if she saw that. ‘Very safe.’
Her eyes opened, surprise momentarily replacing the other emotions swimming there. ‘Am I really—?’ She swallowed, tried again in that slurred whisper. ‘In one piece? You weren’t feeding me the happy-clappy line to keep me calm until we’re away from here?’
‘I wouldn’t insult you. Nor would I feed you expectations that could be stomped on once you’re in hospital. You have mostly bruises,’ he repeated his earlier diagnosis to shore up her failing confidence. ‘Lots of them. I still don’t think there’s anything to worry about regarding your shoulder except severe bruising. Possibly some rib damage, but I’d say you’ve come off lightly.’ When her eyes widened with hope, he rushed in. ‘Not lightly enough that I’m about to haul you up the bank with a rope around your waist. We’re still at the bottom of a precipice with a summer storm rampaging around our ears.’ Was that hail? It wouldn’t surprise him, given the ferocity of the wind and rain pounding them. Thunder backed him up; no lightning flashes but then the clouds delivering the icy pellets were hiding that. Auckland was known for its short, sharp seasonal storms. In this case, not what the doctor ordered, but then when did anything ever go completely right on a job? It was the nature of the urgent scenarios to throw spanners in the works. Big ones mostly. And often through weather.
Digging into the pack, his fingers closed around a concertinaed umbrella which he pulled out and opened to hold above his patient, shielding her from the worst, angling it so a gust of wind didn’t turn it inside out. It would be best if Sienna slipped into unconsciousness again so she didn’t feel discomfort and had no idea of the time ticking by as they waited for the chopper to return. He could only hope it was today. The weather reports had forecast more storms over the next twelve hours at least.
Beside him Sienna moved. Trying to roll over? Harry placed his free hand on her good shoulder. ‘Easy. Don’t move.’ Their ledge wasn’t as wide as he’d like. Sienna had been extremely lucky that that tree had halted her tumble.
‘Mmm...umm...’
So she was out of it, unaware of where she was, and more importantly getting a break from the pain. Good. He tied the umbrella to the base of the tree so it sheltered her face before taking running checks again. Concussion seemed to be her most worrisome injury, and he could handle that. Relief that she hadn’t fractured any major bones or suffered serious internal injuries spread through him, though from her reaction when he’d touched her ribcage it was possible she’d cracked one or two ribs, or torn cartilage from the bones. But she’d be able to lift a glass of wine when he took that bottle next door. Because he was going to. Without a doubt. It might be tempting a snub, but he’d risk it. Thanks to this accident they were inextricably linked, and he’d use that to his advantage. He wanted time with her that much. And after today she couldn’t deny he existed.
On his haunches, hunched under the edge of the umbrella, Harrison studied the captivating face he’d first admired a week ago. Shock and pain had dimmed her raw beauty, but there was no denying the fine features and that classic facial structure sucking him in. ‘So we’re both doctors.’ Was that attraction stirring his groin? No. Too weird, that idea. This was purely because Doc Not-So-Frosty had a figure that demanded attention from all working parts of a man’s body, and a face to take the edge off anything she might say.
Again Sienna moved. Again he held her still. ‘Shh, easy does it.’ He kept his voice low and soft, sleep her best option for now. When she didn’t relax he sat next to her, stretching his legs the length of her body so they were touching side by side, and began soothing her hand, making light circles with his fingers. Slowly, slowly, the tension fell away from her muscles and she stopped moving her hands and feet. Had she been unconsciously checking again to see that she hadn’t damaged her spine? It had been her biggest fear when he’d arrived, and who could blame her? Cycling accidents were notorious for shoulder injuries, but spinal damage was up there too.
His radio barked into life. ‘Harry, are you receiving? This is Ginger.’
Their pilot. ‘Harry receiving loud and not so clear. What’s up?’
‘You’re stuck there for a while yet, I’d say. What’s the situation with your patient?’
‘GCS four.’ Not bad considering how rapid her descent must’ve been, and the bone-jarring—if not breaking—halt against the tree. But the score could change rapidly, dropping to a dangerous level if Sienna got too cold or there was internal bleeding going on he hadn’t discovered. But all indicators said she was lucky there. He turned his back on her, just in case she wasn’t as out of it as he believed. ‘Don’t let that fool you. I want her out of here ASAP. Her temperature has taken a dive since the hail came across.’
‘Roger. Understood. I’m talking to the weather gods every few minutes but so far they’re ignoring me.’
‘Keep at it.’
‘I’ll get back to you in thirty unless the all-clear comes through. Hang in there and keep her safe, man.’
As if he’d do anything else. Keeping safe came first, especially for his patients. Not so much for himself. He’d always been a bit of a risk-taker, snowboarding off mountain ranges and deep-water diving in shark-infested waters; though with that one there’d been a team of experts at his back. Not that his parents would’ve noticed if things went pear-shaped. His brothers understood his apparent recklessness, though they didn’t condone it, but to their credit they left him to his own decisions, something he appreciated almost more than anything. They weren’t meant to feel guilty for him copping all the blame their mother had dished out for disasters big and small when they were young—and not so young. He was the cause of her disappointment with how life had served her, so his brothers had been spared the vitriol. Because they’d been wante
d, planned for. Unlike him.
Harry swallowed the familiar bile. These days, since his mother had taken over control of the multinational company his grandfather had created, the family was more divided than ever. He and his brothers were together in their need to get on and make lives for themselves, while their parents fought endless battles between themselves over who was in charge of the company. His siblings had found love with wonderful women and dived right into their own families, putting distance between themselves and the parents who might’ve wanted them but didn’t show much affection towards them. Finding a woman to love and have a family with was not something Harry planned on doing. His one and only serious relationship years ago had turned out to be as nasty as his parents’ one, and confirmed his belief he did not want that for the rest of his days. Just as he didn’t want to be told to try harder, become greater, aim higher. If someone couldn’t love him for who he was then he wouldn’t bother. He’d learned to be happy with his single status; he just wasn’t always so careful with himself.
He reached for Sienna’s wrist. What was her pulse now? Her wrist was slight and her skin satiny. If anyone around here had a high pulse rate it was him.
‘So you’re a doctor, and a cyclist. What else interests you?’ he asked into the wind-tossed space in an attempt to distract himself from the heat tripping up his arm from where his fingers still touched her skin. Lowering her arm, he pulled back. ‘I know loud music isn’t one of your favourites, Doc Frosty.’
He barked a harsh laugh. Doc Frosty and Dr Frost stuck together on a hillside.
Ever since the night she’d stormed up his drive he’d been aware of her. Or rather, of how often she wasn’t at home. It made sense now he knew her profession. Putting in long hours came with the territory. Which was one reason he loved his work. There was no time for anything else other than light, short relationships with women and easy-going friendships.
Those odd moments of longing for something he couldn’t explain that came in the middle of a night shift when there was nothing happening but waiting in the tedious dark for a call that he always hoped wouldn’t end badly for the victims were to be ignored. The unsettling need for something, someone, had to be banished. He was his own person and, once free of his mother’s blame game and his wife’s endless demands to be someone he wasn’t, he’d vowed he’d never let someone else dictate how he lived, or where, or why.