“Head trauma,” said another man, a tow-headed guy about her age with a goatee, carrying a leather book with a thin rubber band around it. He looked over his shoulder nervously. “I hope a paramedic is coming.”
“I’m an ER nurse,” Colleen insisted. “And yes, I know him.”
Murmurs filled the air.
Tim’s eyes were feral, his mouth twisted with pain, neck tendons taut. The angle of that leg looked excruciating. Colleen’s own shins were turning to ice as she pressed into the pavement. Tim wasn’t in good shape, and this was getting worse.
Time to take charge.
“I am not cursed, I’m not trying to kill you, and your leg is broken,” she said in her work voice, a matter-of-fact voice designed to be practical yet encouraging.
“Because of you!”
“I didn’t break your leg, Tim.” Any goodwill she had for him was draining away fast. At the same time, she couldn’t help but admire how freaking hot he was. The gray suit with a red silk tie was a chef’s kiss of perfection, his leg muscles bulging nicely against the fabric.
Or maybe that was a displaced knee cap.
“I should have known better. Every man who ever goes on a third date with you ends up in your emergency room within days.”
The crowd began to murmur. Great. You can take the girl out of Luview, but you can find petty small-town gossipers anywhere.
“For the record, you’re not technically in my emergency room. We can still have that fourth date,” she whispered in his ear, his reply nothing but a derisive huff.
So much for that lingerie order she’d made this morning. And she’d paid for two-day shipping, too. Now she’d have to return it, a trip to the post office the last freaking thing she needed. The postmaster, Tim Kurdan, would ask too many pointed questions.
Apparently, her life was nothing but a plague of Tims right now.
“No more fourth date. Pffft. I should have listened to Jake.”
Cold shot through her veins.
“Excuse me?”
“He tried to warn me. Hard. Came to my office after he saw us out on our second date. Said you’re some kind of witch.”
“Jake thinks that if you drink soda and eat Mentos after taking a Viagra, it’ll make things grow even bigger,” Colleen replied. She wasn’t revealing anything private. Jake had publicly declared this medical “fact” last month, during a heated dart game at Bilbee’s Tavern.
“What does that have to do with dating you?”
“Nothing. Just like Jake’s opinion, it isn’t worth a damn. Why would you listen to him?”
“I didn’t! That’s the problem! Now look at me.”
A long, slow inhale helped center her. Feelings had to come last in moments like this.
Stabilize the patient.
Don’t argue with him.
“Let’s assess your injuries.”
“Because of you, he was nearly castrated!” Tim continued, the words coming out just as a police officer appeared.
There were not enough deep breaths in the world to make this situation better.
“Hello. Officer Tomes here. What’s happened?” The cop was in full uniform, hat and all, with a black down coat that dropped to mid thigh. She couldn’t tell if he was thirty or fifty, but she knew one thing:
Today was not going as planned.
“Car hit him,” Colleen began. “I was two cars behind.” She pointed to the kid who actually hit Tim, who was staring at the cop, gape-mouthed and shaking, looking as if he were about to pee himself.
“She’s trying to kill me,” Tim groaned.
Every police officer has a “work face.” Colleen knew this because she’d watched her brother Luke adopt it during law enforcement situations. Seeing it aimed directly at her by Officer Tomes turned the dread in her gut into a flaming explosion of napalm.
“Miss,” he said flatly, waving his hand, “would you please move away from the injured gentleman?”
Oh, how he sounded like her brother.
Obeying the order, she lifted her hands in the air and backed away a foot or two, torn between knowing Tim needed immediate medical attention and following the officer’s directive.
“I’m a nurse. The only first responder on the scene. I am trying to assess his injuries.”
Tomes looked down at Tim and frowned. “He doesn’t want you to touch him.”
“Because he’s in shock.”
“BECAUSE EVERY GUY SHE DATES ENDS UP INJURED. SHE NEARLY SLICED OFF A GUY’S WIENER!”
Of all the ways to learn Tim called it a wiener. Geez.
She really dodged a bullet.
Letting out a soft laugh, but also genuinely worried about Tim’s possible internal injuries, Colleen tried to establish a rapport with the cop.
“I assure you, this is shock. Or he hit his head, hard. Tim’s a little…” She twisted a finger in the air around her ear.
“Is that a medical diagnosis?” The officer bent down, putting his hand carefully on Tim’s shoulder. “Sir, paramedics are on the way. Is this woman harassing you?”
“YES! She’s the reason I got hit by a car!”
Now it was Colleen’s turn to groan.
As Tomes stood, his hand went to his belt, fingers brushing a set of zip ties.
“Officer, really, I haven’t hurt Tim. We’re dating, actually.”
“Dating?”
“Not anymore!” Tim called up.
“Yes, sir. We had our third date. And, uh…”
“Third date?”
“And we’re about to have our fourth,” she continued, but Tim interrupted with:
“SHE HURTS MEN SHE DATES!”
At that, Officer Tomes’ entire demeanor shifted.
“So this is a domestic dispute,” he said slowly, eyes narrowing.
Backing farther away from Tim, Colleen tried desperately to say the right thing, to say anything that would make this horrible mess go away.
“No, sir! Not a domestic dispute. It’s actually kind of comical to explain–”
“You’re saying that your partner being hit by a car is comical?”
Oh, no.
No, no, no.
“Not his injuries! Of course not! But the story that led to this is, well, it’s full of bizarre coincidences and misunderstandings.”
“You think your partner telling me you’re the cause of his injuries is a ‘coincidence’ and a ‘misunderstanding’?”
The edges of her vision started to shimmer a bit, as if the light itself were pulsating. The implication of what this police officer was saying began to sink in, layer by layer.
He thought she had hurt Tim, and others.
He thought this was a domestic dispute.
He saw Tim’s very real fear of future injury from her.
Trained in how to handle domestic violence situations and very familiar with the procedure for separating an abuser from a victim in the emergency room, it occurred to Colleen that the officer was using his domestic violence training right now.
And he thought she was the abuser.
How on earth was she going to clear this up?
“I’ve never hurt Tim,” she began, wincing internally because she sounded like every abuser who begins to get defensive.
“Hey,” said a low voice behind her, and a hand touched her shoulder. Turning, she was relieved to see the best person ever.