‘Resp rate fifty-two. Too low,’ she murmured, as she looked directly at him, the worry for Murts obvious in her eyes. ‘They’re in the pack that Mike will bring from the surgery. As there are no ambulance personnel qualified to use most drugs, they’re only carried when one of the doctors attends an incident.’
‘Good policy, though right now I could do without it.’
‘I think both femurs are broken,’ Sasha’s hands were carefully working down the length of Murts’s left leg. ‘We’re going to have to straighten them and apply splints before loading him in the helicopter.’
‘We’ll wait for that drug kit and some morphine.’ He began checking the right leg, working in sync with Sasha. Amazing how well they worked together. But it shouldn’t be a surprise. They’d always done things well together.
A shot rang out, quickly followed by another.
Grady saw Sasha shiver and reached over to run a finger over her hand. ‘Had to be done.’
‘I know, but doesn’t mean I have to like it.’
The men gave a cheer. ‘That’ll show him,’ one of them muttered, as they headed outside.
‘What was that you said about sirloin on the way in?’ Grady asked Sasha with a smile, trying to lift her spirits.
Her face paled. ‘No, thanks. Think I’ll stick to my chicken now.’
‘You squeamish about where your meat comes from?’ He held back a chuckle. Probably get slapped hard for that.
‘Not normally, but being pregnant has changed a lot of things. Like craving for prunes. Used to hate them as a kid and they were Mum’s favourite fix for everything that ailed us.’ Colour started returning to her face and she began counting Murts’s resp rate again.
Murts gave a deeper groan than any before.
‘Murts? What’s going on?’ Grady gently palpated the abdomen area where the man’s fist was tapping. ‘Pain here?’
‘Ye-es. Ahh.’
The sound lifted the hairs on the back of Grady’s neck. ‘The ambulance is nearly here, and the helicopter is on its way. You hang in there, right? We’ll get you sorted and into hospital where they can fix you up in no time.’ Don’t you dare die on us. Don’t you damn well dare.
Sasha rubbed the back of one of Murts’s hands. ‘Who do you want to go to hospital with you? Sally or one of those lugs outside?’
‘Sally’s in Nelson, doing the shopping,’ Murts wheezed.
‘So one of those lugs it is. I’ll go see who’s available.’ Sasha stood, leaned closer to Grady. ‘Resp rate dropping. Now forty.’ Then she headed out to find the men.
The sound of tyres on the gravel outside was very welcome, as was the bag of medical goodies Mike carried in moments later. ‘Hey, there, Murts, hear that bull of yours went a little crazy.’
Sasha returned carrying leg splints and a stretcher from the ambulance, accompanied by Rebecca.
Grady shook his head at Sasha. ‘What was wrong with getting Rebecca to carry that stretcher?’
Her face squeezed into a scowl. ‘It weighs next to nothing.’ But she did quickly place it on the ground near their patient, before handing the splints to Grady. ‘I’ll head off on my round now. With Mike and Rebecca here, you won’t need me any more.’ There was a hint of mischief in her eyes as she nailed him with a stare.
Sash thought she’d found a way to get rid of him for the rest of the day, did she? That sucked. Hurt, too, if he was honest. She really didn’t want him accompanying her for the day. Did she dislike him now? No. Her kiss negated that theory. So his presence was stirring up memories or emotions she’d prefer weren’t stirred up. Was that it? Hope flared, nudged the hurt aside. He could still rattle her cage. Cool. ‘Guess what?’
When her carefully styled eyebrows lifted in a ‘this had better be good’ way he answered his own question. ‘I’m coming with you to see Campbell McRae. Or had you forgotten that?’
The eyebrows dropped. But her mouth slid upwards into a reluctant smile. ‘I’d hoped you had.’
CHAPTER NINE
SASHA SAID GOODBYE to Mrs Callahan and headed outside to the car. Mrs Callahan hadn’t wanted Grady there while Sasha examined her hysterectomy wound.
‘Call me old-fashioned but my woman’s bits aren’t for everyone to see.’
Sasha had smiled her understanding and refrained from pointing out that no ‘woman’s bits’ would be on show anyway. Sixty-year-old Mrs Callahan was entitled to her privacy, though that was likely to go out the window when she started radiation for her cervical cancer next week in Christchurch. Sasha carefully picked her way over the rough cobblestones on the pathway. Such a nice, kind lady, known for her good deeds in the community, and she’d been dealt a bad card. Cancer didn’t care who it attacked.
Rounding the corner of the house, she stopped. Grady was leaning against her vehicle, talking on his phone, and looking so sexy in his thick jacket and his butt-hugging trousers.
Her mouth dried. No wonder she’d kissed him last night in her half-awake—or was that half-asleep—state. Kissing Grady had always been a favourite pastime. And what those kisses had led to. Thank goodness he’d put the brakes on before they’d gone any further last night. Had he wanted her? In that way? Or had her kiss turned him completely off her? Or her baby bump? That had to be a dose of reality for any man. Kissing a woman who carried another guy’s baby had to be the biggest turn-off imaginable.
But look at him. Not just sexy beyond belief. Solid, reliable, caring. Special. Grady. The man she’d once intended marrying, intended sharing her future with.
Her head pounded. The blood beat along her veins. Exhaustion swamped her. Being tired beyond belief made dealing with Grady too much. Too complicated, involved, difficult. One half-assed kiss didn’t mean everything had been righted in her world. Far from it.
Flipper nudged her more gently than usual. ‘Yeah, I know, baby girl. It’s just you and me.’ She continued down the path. This had been the last call. What with rampaging bulls and Campbell taking his time to size up Grady, and then not letting him go until he’d talked and talked and talked, they were very late. ‘Time to head home and put my feet up.’ Now she sounded like an old lady. Thank goodness Dad was home. She didn’t have any energy to spare for packing citrus today.
‘Murts has just had surgery to put rods in his femurs.’ Grady shoved his phone into his jacket pocket as she approached. ‘The head injuries are causing concern, as are his punctured lungs.’
‘But he’s alive.’ A sigh rushed over her lips. ‘That’s got to be good news.’ Poor Sally would be beside herself with worry.
‘You okay?’ Grady’s eyes clouded with concern.
‘Absolutely fantastic.’ I’ve seen a guy who’d been battered half to death by a bull, a lovely lady dealing with cancer, and I had the biggest scare of my life yesterday. ‘I’m just fine.’ But she walked up to the passenger side of her vehicle and opened the door, hauled herself inside and hunched back against the seat, her eyes closed.
Grady, to his credit, didn’t say a word, just walked round to the other side, adjusted the driver’s seat and drove them back to town.
She’d rest on the way and then she’d be up to shopping at the supermarket and deciding what to have for dinner. Flipper was probably getting sick of soup and toast, or yoghurt. Monday night’s meal at Grady’s had been delicious and made her think she should be trying harder to cook tasty meals. But making them just for herself was a bore. And required energy she didn’t have today.
‘What would you like for dinner?’ Grady’s skin-lifting, emotion-grazing voice penetrated her fogged mind.
‘Trying to decide between two-minute noodles and canned spaghetti,’ she muttered. She wasn’t lying. Suddenly having to stand at the stove at all seemed beyond her.
‘How about sweet and sour pork with stir-fried rice?’
She blinked. ‘What planet are you on? There’s no Chinese takeaway around here.’
‘Did I say anything about takeaways?’ He flicked her a cocky g
rin.
‘You’re cooking again?’ Her hand rested on the point her baby was currently toeing.
Grady’s gaze dropped to her hand then returned to the road ahead. ‘Didn’t you know you can get sweet and sour pork in a packet? Just add water and stir.’
‘I’ve been missing out on gourmet delights.’ She laughed, her tiredness taking a step back. Grady was making her feel good. ‘Any other flavours?’
‘Not tonight.’ As they neared the medical centre he said, ‘Are you up to driving home from here? I need to get some groceries, mainly pork and rice, and then I’ll come to your place to cook dinner.’
‘I can manage fifteen minutes behind the wheel. I’m going to drop into the parents’ on the way. They’ll want to feel Flipper do her goal-kicking practice to make them totally happy all’s well in there.’
‘Okay if I let myself in if you’re not home when I arrive?’ He pulled up outside the medical centre.
‘Go for it. The key’s under the lemon-tree container.’