Page 36 of Tasting Fire
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Emmy couldn’t believe it.He hadn’t even snickered. Cash had seen her pitiful list of fun things she wanted to do and hadn’t fallen to the floor and convulsed with laughter. In fact, he’d been straight-faced when he assigned her homework, telling her he expected her to have another five pages filled out by the end of the day.
Didn’t he understand that it had taken her a month just to come up with the first one?
Before they left her apartment earlier, they’d put in a call to Maggie to see if Stan had been smart enough to give her the same story. According to her, Stan Jackson denied any involvement with the brick flinging, and his alibi had been the game. He’d given her a play-by-play.
He could’ve DVRed it.
Maggie said the incident would stay on her radar, but with no evidence against Stan—no fingerprints on the note—and with tons of Ford trucks in Haywood County alone…
Yeah, Emmy got the picture. If Stan had thrown that brick, it couldn’t be proven.
For now, she put aside the possibility of overt TMT hostility and stopped by St. Elizabeth’s ER desk to grab the details on her next patient.
“Uh, Dr. McKay?” One of the nurses pointed to her cheek. “You’ve got a little green stuff…”
Thank God a tissue box was never far away. Emmy grabbed a handful and scrubbed at her skin. “Room six.”
“I figured.”
Emmy actually liked treating kids, but even she had her limits. The eight-year-old with a severe sinus infection had sneezed right in her face and given her a good slime.
And now she was heading toward exam room two where another little boy had allegedly inserted a raisin into his left nostril.
“So Braden,” she said cheerfully as she walked into the room. “What brings you to see me today?”
In his preschool wisdom, he explained that the ant on the log had gone exploring.
Reminder to self: Never feed children celery topped with peanut butter and raisins.
She looked up his nose and sure enough, one nostril was clogged with dried fruit. “What do you do for fun?”
“What do you mean?” His little head, covered with white-blond hair, tilted. Would Cash’s kids have hair this color? The thought made her ovaries—with their closing-in-on-middle-aged eggs—sit up and pay attention.
“You know, stuff you like to do.”
“You mean like playing with my trucks?”
“Yep.”
His adorable face took on a contemplative cast. “Chasing my dog Beau. Playing catch with my mom. Jumping in the pool. Watching cat…cater…caterpillows. Eating candy. Eating cake. Eating more candy.”
Proof that her life was a sad state of affairs. In less than thirty seconds, Braden had come up with more fun stuff than she had in a month.
“Sounds like you’re a pro at having fun.” She put a gloved finger on his right nostril and pressed it closed. “Now I need you to act like you’re blowing your nose. Not too hard, just enough to—”
Boing!The raisin flew from Braden’s nose and landed on the lapel of Emmy’s lab coat. A quick glance down told her the piece of dried fruit had cleared out a little nasal congestion.
It was official. She was a booger magnet.
She told the boy’s mother the nurse would be by with release paperwork soon. As cute as he’d been, this was an issue that could’ve been solved by the triage nurse. Should Emmy mention that to the ER director?
Might be a little too soon in her tenure here to provide constructive criticism.
Head down, making notes on her tablet, she walked out of the exam room. And plowed straight into someone. So much for walking and working.
“I’m sorry. I was...” She looked up at the person she’d almost run down and found herself staring at Oliver, his practiced smile firmly in place. “Wh…Why are you here?”
