Page 37 of Tasting Fire
“To see you, of course.”
He took her by the elbow, and she was so shocked to see him that she allowed him to lead her down the pale yellow hallway to the staff lounge before she got herself together and pulled her arm from his hold. “Why?”
Oliver glanced around as if worried about revealing a top secret plan in front of enemy spies. “This is better discussed in private.”
Oh, now he wanted privacy instead of a three-ring circus of a marriage proposal? He was a piece of work, this man. But if it would get rid of him faster, she could spare him five minutes. Once they were inside the empty lounge, she pivoted to face him. “What do you want?”
He gestured to a table. “Let’s sit down.”
“Oliver, I don’t have time for tea and crumpets. If you have something to say, just say it. I have patients.”
He cleared his throat and shot the cuffs of his immaculately pressed shirt, his appearance reminding her that she still had a booger brooch on her lapel. “I’m willing to overlook what happened a few weeks ago and allow you to come back to Baltimore General.”
Piece of work? That didn’t even begin to describe Oliver Amory. Piece of shit was more like it. “No thank you.”
“I’ve booked two tickets out of Charlotte for… What did you say?”
Disbelief welled up inside Emmy. “I don’t want to come back to the hospital.” He’d done her a huge favor by firing her. Not that she planned to send him an embossed thank-you note or anything.
“That’s ridiculous. General is the best hospital in Baltimore. None of the others even come close.”
“I don’t live in Baltimore anymore.” She waved a hand toward the lounge door. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I happen to be living and working in Steele Ridge, North Carolina.”
Oliver’s lip lifted in an aristocratic little sneer. “You ran home, tail between your legs.” He held out his hands in a placating gesture that made Emmy want to throat chop him. Justwhackright to the larynx. “That’s understandable after the choices you made.”
Lord, why hadn’t she ever seen Oliver’s self-confidence for what it was—arrogance laced with superiority. He twisted reality into whatever way suited him best. “No tail between the legs or running involved. I was offered my dream jobs here in Steele Ridge and I accepted them. Happily.”
“Dream? This is a nightmare out here. Do you have any idea how long it took me to drive from Charlotte?”
Yeah, real Boonieville. He’d probably taken Highway 77 to I-40. The first time he’d hit a two-lane road was when he exited for Steele Ridge. She should take him on a few of the backroads around here where the bridges narrowed down to one lane. One encounter with an eighteen-wheel log truck and he’d probably shit his Brooks Brothers pants.
Now that would be something to add to her fun list.
“You made a wasted trip. I’m not interested in coming back to Baltimore. St. Elizabeth’s just received a Level One trauma certification, and I’m heading up the first true tactical medical team in this area of North Carolina.”
“I’m sorry, Emerson, but this simply won’t work. I have no interest in a commuter marriage.”
Why had he become so fixated on the marriage that wasn’t ever going to happen? Maybe if she laid it out one more time, he would finally get it. “Oliver, I enjoyed working at BaltGen, but I love my new position here. I’m sorry if it came as a surprise to you that I didn’t want to marry you. I’d hoped that you would see I was right about our relationship simply being convenient for us both. I don’t know where you’ve gotten the idea that I would change my mind, but I can assure you that I won’t. Move on, Oliver. I wasn’t ever the right woman for you.”
But instead of appeasing him, her words seemed to burrow under his skin, and his face took on a cast of cruelty. Mouth thin, jaw clenched, eyebrows drawn. “This isn’t the place for you, Emerson. I know that, and soon you will, too.”
Enough was enough. Emmy sidestepped Oliver and opened the door. She waved him toward the hall, but his feet were locked in place. “Oliver, if you don’t leave, Iwillcall security. And we both know you don’t want that kind of embarrassment.”
He glared at her for long moments. Finally, he marched past her and through the doorway. But he stopped just on the other side, keeping her from leaving the room. “Don’t deliberate too long. My patience is running out.”
Oliver strode through the ER, shoulders back and chin up, the demeanor of a man with the unshakeable belief that he was superior to everyone around him.Adios, Emperor Oliver.
As he swept out toward the waiting room, the ambulance bay doors swooshed open and paramedics rushed a gurney into the ER. Damn, she’d missed the report. Thank goodness their best nurse practitioner was right there running alongside them.
Emmy hotfooted it across the ER and into the exam room only to discover that one of the medics was Cash. He must’ve caught a half shift.
His concentration never wavered as he gave her and the other staff his report. “Sixty-three-year-old male with a history of Type One diabetes. His daughter found him in an altered state approximately thirty minutes ago. He’s exhibiting blurred vision and mild confusion. Blood glucose levels at 512. We started a saline drip on scene.”
Emmy shook away the need to ogle Cash, so handsome in his station blues. “Hyperglycemia.”
“Yep. Administered an amp of D50 en route.”
“Thanks,” she said to Cash and the other medic. “We’ve got it from here.”
