One Night With The Army Doc

She felt her mother’s disapproval like a slap.

“I’ll call you next week with a list of supplies.”

“Fine,” Molly said, though the line had already gone dead. Talk about abrupt. Clicking off her phone, she turned back to her crew. “Have you guys decided on our last stop?”

“We have.” Neal gave her his devious smile—the one that always warned of mischief ahead. “You ready?”

She tossed her trash in a nearby bin, then followed her crew toward the exit. “Can I at least get a clue where we’re headed?”

“I talked to one of the ER nurses yesterday before you arrived,” Rob said. “She’s part of a volunteer mountain rescue group. They’re practicing maneuvers today. Neal thinks it might be a nice way to segue into the local medical scene.”

* * *

“Ready, Ryder?” shouted a man in an orange emergency jumpsuit.

“Ready!” Jake yelled back.

He was currently dangling off the north face of O’Malley’s Peak, wind whistling, while his training-partner-slash-victim for this rescue was strapped to a body board.

“Victim’s secure for lift.”

He sagged into his riggings to wait, enjoying the stunning views from this vantage point. Bright autumn colors dotted the landscape as far as the eye could see, and the city of Anchorage gleamed in the distance. Most tourists cleared out of Chugach State Park this late in the season, leaving it to year-round locals like himself until the first snows hit. Then this place would be packed again, with ice-climbers, skiers and winter enthusiasts.

And, like clockwork, some of those weekend daredevils would do something ill-advised, requiring intervention. That was why he was here. Plus, volunteering for the Anchorage Rescue Team—or the ART—helped him keep his rescue skills sharp. And, particularly this weekend, he hoped the training might help him forget about a certain blond doctor who seemed to haunt his every waking moment.

Dr. Molly Flynn was proving to be a challenge. In more ways than one.

Inhaling the crisp mountain air, Jake distracted himself by double-checking both his harness and the one around his pretend victim, then tested the ropes and carabiners for strength. He’d scaled these peaks since his teens, knew every nook and cranny by heart. He and his dad had used to come here when he was in high school, just to hang out and relax.

Those carefree days seemed a million miles away now, with his parents off traveling the country by RV for three-quarters of each year, returning to Alaska only during the brief summer months. In fact Bobby was really the closest person he had left in Anchorage.

If I lose him...

Jake’s muscles tightened with anxiety. The wind gusted harder and he grabbed the ropes near his victim’s chest to steady himself. He wouldn’t lose Bobby because he couldn’t lose Bobby. Just as he couldn’t allow himself to get involved with Dr. Flynn. It would be bad. Very bad. Besides, he didn’t trust her—would never trust her. Kellie had destroyed his ability to trust.

“You trying to cop a feel, Doc?” Wendy Smith—fellow ART volunteer, an ER nurse at Anchorage Mercy and today’s pretend victim—grinned up at him from the body board. “Been there, done that—not going back again.”

“Shut up, smartass.” Jake focused on the distant hazy peaks of Denali, doing his best to shake off his melancholy. He and Wendy had known each other since grade school. “You have a rare day off too, Clutch?”

“Don’t call me that. I hate it,” she said.

Half-Inupiat and all attitude, Wendy looked like a swimsuit model, swore like a drunken drill sergeant, and had grown up fast after her mother had passed away when she was only twelve.

Living with three older brothers and having a mechanic for a father had made her into quite a tomboy, and Jake often found her tinkering with cars when she wasn’t saving lives in his ER. They’d gone out once, but the romantic sparks hadn’t been there. They’d remained good friends ever since.

“And I could ask the same of you,” she said.

“What?” He scowled. “I take plenty of time off.”

“Right.”

“I can’t help it if my patients need me.”

She gave him an exasperated look. “Whatever gets you through the night.”

He squirmed a bit. Her comment had hit too close to home. Trouble was, his time-honored excuse wasn’t getting him through the night anymore. Especially since a certain prickly and disturbingly pretty media star had arrived.

They were totally unsuited. Polar opposites on so many levels it wasn’t even funny. His best bet would be to put her out of his mind and concentrate on Bobby’s recovery. Except all it seemed to take was one thought of her and his blood burned like lit gasoline, sparking a primal rush of need he didn’t expect or want.