Page 1 of Silver Fox's Twin Surprise

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COLE

"Suction…" I reached out my hand to take the hemovac to suction out the remaining blood and body fluids that lingered after surgery. The patient had done well for the most part, but I was watching his vitals closely. Even during routine procedures like this hernia repair, things could go wrong.

The nurse placed the suction tube onto my palm and I clasped it, then maneuvered it to begin cleaning up the man's abdominal cavity. As I did, my hand shuddered a little, almost imperceptibly, but it was there. I noticed it. It made me wince, but I kept my head down and continued working, praying no one else saw it.

The tremors had started three months ago, only when I was very stressed or overly tired, but they were noticeable enough that I should have reported them. I kept hoping they'd go away, that it was a result of fatigue or tension, but today I wasn't feeling tired or stressed at all. In fact, I had a good weekend planned, one I was looking forward to. So the slight shiver of my hand frustrated me.

"There we go," I said, handing the hemovac back to the nurse. She took it from me and turned to replace it to its spot, then returned with my needle to suture the patient.

"Have any plans this weekend?" she asked, making conversation as was normal during any surgery. It wasn't uncommon to carry on complete conversations with nursing staff while operating. We were a great team, and we'd worked well together for several years now.

"Actually, yes," I told her. "I'm going to see the Broncos' quarterback play in the pro-bowl." I grinned beneath my PPE mask and thought of how I'd scored the tickets to the game by helping a buddy of mine with his board exams. His father had season tickets and as his former mentor, he'd asked me to help him study in exchange for the tickets. I was thrilled, but of course, I'd have helped him anyway.

"Oh, that's great. I heard the weather is supposed to be gorgeous Sunday." I could see the sparkle in her eye as I looked up at her and knew she was smiling too. But when my hand tremored again, I wasn't smiling.

I was, however, thankful she was looking up at me and not at my fingers which were tying off the first suture. The last thing I needed was one of the nurses stepping in to report me for this. It wasn't something I could hide, though it wasn't anything career ending, or at least I didn't think so. Still, if anyone doubted my ability to perform, for the safety of my patients, they had to report it.

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to it," I told her, but the conversation dropped there. I had to focus on what I was doing so I didn’t make a mistake, especially with the heat already hanging over my head from that previous surgery. It wasn't a tremor thatcaused the mistake, but I'd never convince anyone of that. Not if they saw my hand shake the way I had.

When I finished the last suture, I sucked in a deep, cleansing breath and handed the nurse the needle. "Wrap it up and get him back to his room now. I'm going home," I told her with a tight smile. My part of this operation was done, and the patient could move to recovery, and I was ready to call it a day.

"No problem, Dr. Hastings," she said, and I backed away to let the rest of the team work.

As I walked toward the scrub room, I gripped my right hand and massaged gently. The fact that my stretches and exercises weren't working to improve what was going on was concerning. I wasn't an orthopedic doctor—I was a surgeon who specialized in trauma situations—but I knew enough to know hand tremors like this weren't good. I wasn't going to rule out something severe, but I wanted to focus on the obvious stuff that was explainable and treatable.

I scrubbed out and took off my scrub cap, tossed my surgical gown in the garbage, and headed right to my office. A few of the guys threw some jibes at me and I laughed them off, and with the on-call doctor prepped to keep tabs on my patient, I made my way to the parking garage. I needed this weekend to de-stress and relax.

For the past few weeks, the board had been investigating what happened during the surgery that almost cost the patient his life. I believed it was a clerical error, someone not informing me of the patient's routine medicines before I gave orders for other medications that posed a significant risk—which was inevitably realized on my surgical table. But without proof that someoneelse had made the mistake, the onus was on me to explain why he almost bled out.

I ran a hand through my hair and let the chill of the early March breeze kiss my skin as I stepped through the door into the parking garage. I'd spent too much time agonizing over what happened and how, and this weekend was all about helping me forget that and just try to relax. I took two days off and intended to spend both days detoxing from work stress and releasing tension.

My footsteps echoed across the walls of the parking garage. In the distance I heard a car moving, tires squealing quietly as it rounded the corner to rise or descend on the garage's ramps, and the stench of exhaust and oily fast food hit my nose. The scents of Denver had never changed. The bowl shape tucked into the mountains just east of the Twin Peaks the hospital gained its name from made more of a smog trap than I was sure the founders intended. Today was no different.

I walked up the ramp toward my black SUV and noticed a woman standing behind her car with her phone to her ear looking frustrated. She leaned against the car with her arms crossed over her chest and glared at the phone before grunting and shoving it in her pocket.

Her dark, wavy hair hung around her shoulders, but it had kinks in it as if it'd been tied up in a bun or pony tail for the day and had only just been let down. She wore light blue scrubs and a nametag with the hospital logo on it.

"Hi, uh…" I leaned closer and read her name aloud. "Rose…" My soft smile did nothing to lighten the scowl on her face. "Is everything okay?" Lots of people who worked here wore scrubs,but not all of them had badges like this. She was a registered nurse, and a frustrated one, by the looks of it.

"Well, I have a dead battery. I tried to call a tow truck, but they said it would be three hours. So, yeah… If you have jumper cables, I could use some help." Her soprano tone was pleasant, not grating or nasally at all. I watched her eyes flick toward her open hood and back to my face, and I grinned at her.

"You're in luck, Rose. I have a set of jumper cables, and I’m parked right over here. And all it will cost you is one smile." Her face lit up and a genuine warmth flushed her cheeks as she returned my smile with one of her own. She was radiant, glowing with gratitude as she nodded.

"Thank you," she said shyly as I turned to get my car.

I was struck by how pretty she was right away. It wasn't something I usually noticed, not after Kate died. I never looked at another woman like I did Kate. She was my one and only, and any time I even thought of moving on, I felt guilty. But I had to admit even my better judgment was tested with Rose.

I pulled my SUV up and parked next to her, then I popped the hood but left the engine running and walked to the back. She met me there as I lifted the tailgate and sorted through the odds and ends in my cargo area for the jumper cables, which I found buried in the side pocket with the jack.

"Got 'em," I mumbled, and I turned to see her still smiling.

"My gosh, you're a lifesaver. I would've been standing here forever. I'm so hungry too. I haven't eaten yet today." She followed me around the front of her car where I clamped each alligator clamp to the appropriate battery terminal on her carand the positive to mine. Then I clamped the negative to an engine mount and told her to fire it up.

Rose climbed into her car and turned the key and it fired on the first try, but in the interest of her getting home safe with headlights and her radio working, I left the cables attached for a few more seconds.

When she climbed out of her car and joined me, she was shivering. Night was taking hold and the breeze had picked up. She hugged her arms over her body, pushing her tits up in front. I noticed the curve of them and the hardness of her nipples under the layers of fabric, which wasn't something she could hide. I pried my eyes away, but not before I got a little turned on. This work stress had me off my game.

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