Page 11 of Every Little Kiss
CHAPTER 3
Liv had become a pro at making lemonade out of all of the lemons life had thrown her way. But today, she was certain she’d need something much stronger.
She’d made it through a six-car pileup that backed up the ER for most of the day, a child-neglect case that resulted in casting a four-year-old’s arm and making a call that she was sure would rip apart a family. Then spent her lunch finishing up paperwork and brainstorming how, between the hours of midnight and three a.m., Liv was to become Mercy General’s social liaison without breaking down.
But after receiving a call from home, Carolyn explaining how Paxton had barricaded himself in his room after camp, not even coming out for one of his grandma’s famous peanut butter cookies, Liv realized how close she was to tears.
Especially right then, with only a stubborn vending machine separating her from the last Hostess cupcake in the entire hospital. She’d checked. Which was why she’d dug up her last four quarters from the depths of her purse and put them in the machine.
“I paid the toll, now give me my cupcake,” she said to the machine, even giving it a little shake. But the cupcake didn’t move, just sat there, all alone, stuck between the Plexiglas and the faulty release coil.
The rational thing to do would be to inform maintenance that the machine next to urgent care was broken. They’d file a report and send someone down to fix it—in the next few hours, if she was lucky.
Liv didn’t have a few hours. And she wasn’t feeling very rational. Nope, rational had flown out the window the moment her mother-in-law had called and Liv realized that her son needed her at home but she was stuck here at work. Normally, she’d ask to leave early. But today wasn’t a normal day.
Not only was the hospital short-staffed, but Liv had just thrown herself into a professional ring where the competition was racking up endless hours of OT, not requesting family emergency TO. Leaving her with ten minutes left of her break and her sugar fix just out of reach.
Which was why she enlisted her foot. A few swift kicks to the bottom corner of the machine shook the cupcake until it was dangling from the end of the coil release, but it wasn’t enough to break free.
Liv glared at the machine, punched in the buttons again for good measure, and then stared longingly at the lonely cupcake. She shook the machine. Nothing.
Shook it harder—still nothing.
Dang it.
This was going to require a more direct approach. And possibly a set of medical forceps. Which was how Liv ended up on her knees, right arm jammed into the dispenser door, the metal tongs a scant inch from the plastic wrapper of the cupcake.
She worked quickly, hoping to finish before a patient noticed her on the floor, performing surgery on a vending machine. Given how packed urgent care was today, the odds were against her. Which meant she might have to admit defeat.
Only Liv was tired of feeling defeated. She needed a win. Even if it was in the form of chocolate cake with marshmallow-cream filling.
Liv quickly scanned the waiting room, nearly wrenching her arm out of the socket when she caught a glimpse of the officer standing at the nurses’ station. Dressed in a crisp pair of uniform pants, a matching shirt that had the Sequoia Elite Mountain Rescue logo on the pocket, a department-issued gun on his hip, and a set of well-toned arms that had been wrapped around her just hours earlier.
Liv swallowed hard as he approached the counter. Because it wasn’t just any officer. It was Officer Cub Candy, and he was chatting up Nurse Brandy, a recent graduate who was finishing up her residency at Mercy General. Brandy was twenty-three, perky, and the perfect cub-size treat.
Liv was long past perky. A mature woman who was down on all fours wearing cupcake scrubs and fighting with a vending machine.
Ford said something cheeky, Brandy giggled, and Liv rolled her eyes. Not at Brandy, but at herself.
With a smile that said,Hey, big guy,Brandy looked at the monitor and clicked away on the keyboard. Ford offered her up a smile and rested a casual hip against the counter—as if he had all day.
Liv had less than a few seconds before he noticed her.
With one last snap of the forceps, she went after the cupcake, catching the lower edge of the wrapper—and Ford’s attention, which zeroed in like a heat-seeking missile.
One look into those intense eyes and a rush of heat lit her cheeks—and other, more concerning, places. The former wasn’t all that surprising, seeing as she was facing down an armed officer with her hand stuck in the proverbial cookie jar. The latter was as irritating as it was liberating.
Her first reaction was to ignore him—she’d paid for the cupcake, after all—but since that was as likely as tuning out a Chippendale at a ladies’ luncheon, she ignored the tingles and gave him a cool smile. “Afternoon, Officer Jamison.”
“Nurse Cupcake,” he said, all kinds of professional, even though his eyes were filled with warmth and amusement. The closer he came, the louder his boots clicked against the tile floor, and the faster her heart raced. “Are you okay?”
Liv was tempted to ask him what he defined as okay, then remembered she had roughly seven minutes left of me-time and didn’t want to spend it trying to read between the lines. She’d had a day full of that.
“Medical emergency,” she said, giving a gentle tug, which did nothing more than lodge the cupcake farther.
He looked at the cupcake and grinned. “I can see that. Lucky for you, I’ve had extensive medical training.”
She remembered just how skilled his hands were. Just like she remembered how he’d asked her to coffee and then gone cold the second she’d mentioned her son. “Not necessary. One more tug and I’ve got it.”
