Page 30 of Lucky Charm
Her.
Doctor Extraordinaire.
The woman who had learned early on to keep that shit under control. There was no room for it in med school or an ER. Back in junior high, though, she’d struggled with being shy and had learned to power through all sorts of vulnerable social situations.
Hunt helped her to stand, the thermal Henley she had on dropped to her knees, covering most of her. Even with his strength and support by her, she struggled against the massive pressure of tears that needed to be shed, a numbing fog over her thought process, and a horrible sense of failure – of putting these guys in jeopardy. All she could do wasfeel –and these were not the emotions she wanted to have right now.She was always in control, always pulled her end of things – especially when it involved life and death.
“Don’t, Doc. We’re all fine. The snowstorm protected us. We’ll power through the rest. It’s going to be okay.” That his thoughts paralleled hers snapped her more into the moment, making a significant inroad into clearing away the fuzziness. She closed her eyes, using his massive presence to shore up her emotions. Unfortunately, wrestling her psyche for some guts took more energy than she had. In fact, she was nauseous and ready to puke.
Hunt grabbed a thermal, space blanket from the bedding and wrapped her. “It’s chilly in here. Can’t have that undoing all our warming up.” He smiled crookedly and took an extra amount of time to bundle her. It struck her that he was making a huge effort to keep her comfortable and at ease. The least she could do was stifle the whiney baby. The urge to vomit, not so much.
Breathe, Cait.
“Let’s get back to the corner. You want to try walking the few steps or should I carry you?”
She stared at him, unable to process his question against the enormous rebellion her body presented. He waited mere seconds before lifting her into his arms and proceeding to the back corner of the cave. Darkness and a pungent bathroom smell – like camping and visiting the outhouse assaulted the air. Nausea rolled again through her stomach.
Hunt set her on her feet but held fast. “Look, this is the not so fun part of being out in nature, and there’s nothing to do about it but do it.” He flicked on a small flashlight.
She stared, stunned. “What is that yellow?”
“Chinese RPG boxes.”
She had to clear her throat. “What?”
“Weapons cache, Doc.”
The air escaped from her lungs. “We’re in one?”
“Yes.” He gazed at her like a one-word answer would suffice.
“And we stayed here?” No way could she modulate her voice.
“No choice.”
Well, hell. She looked over the boxes and boxes and boxes of weapons stacked against the back of the cave. “They’re yellow?”
Hunt looked over at the boxes and shrugged, seemingly out of his one-word answers.
Cait’s outrage exploded. “Fucking sunshine yellow boxes? To blow people up? Who thinks of these things?”
Hunt looked at her like a glass had shattered in his hand. “Uh, I wasn’t in charge of the production.”
“Can you be in charge of blowing this shit up?” Cait knew she was being unreasonable, but for God’s sake – yellow? Christ.
She looked the other way, barely controlling a recoil at the dirt, the rocks, the mess – human and critter. “I don’t do camping. Well, I never take a vacation, so camping never came up, but I think camping will be off my bucket list, although it wasn’t ever on it. Any pointers?” She glanced around in the dim light and couldn’t decide which side was more disgusting – brown or yellow. Two rocks sat close together, looking strategically placed, not natural.Get it done, Cait.
“Don’t think. Do.” He pointed at the two rocks. “You should be able to balance on those.”
She couldn’t be squeamish anymore. The IV had left a tremendous need to pee and she couldn’t stall anymore. She released the blanket and moved forward. No other way to do this. “You’re going to have to hold on to me. I’m too shaky.”
“I figured. Balance, Doc.” She focused on his strong hands gripping her arms and did her business – not thinking, not overwhelming herself. He pulled her up when she was finished and swiftly wrapped her in the blanket and his arms. “You’re shivering.”
“Method of heat production in mammals. I’m about to puke on your boots, too. And your choice of cave décor is offensive.”
He chuckled and lifted her again. “We’ll call in an air strike.”
She tried to smile, couldn’t, and took a deep breath then regretted it. The odor churned her to gagging.
