Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Amka rubbed her arm. “My storage building. The one I share with Friday’s Grocery? It blew up.”
Lance stood so fast his rolling chair squeaked. “Wait—seriously? Is everyone okay?”
“I think so.” She tried to keep her voice even, but her throat felt like she’d swallowed embers. “I was inside when it happened. The blast threw me across the room.” Her arm throbbed. Her ribs pulsed. Her hip had developed a slow, annoying ache. A headache, low and steady, was just settling in. “But really,” she said, forcing a small shrug, “I think I’m fine.”
Lance just stared at her. “Wow. An explosion.”
She shifted on her feet. “Christian, you don’t have to stay with me.”
“I want to make sure you’re okay.” He looked out of place in the soft light, all hard edges and quiet intensity.
“You’re throwing off the cozy clinic vibe,” she muttered.
Dr. May Smirnov strode into the room wearing her usual aqua scrubs, blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail, a half-eaten sandwich in one hand. “What’s going on?” She halted. “I smell smoke. Was there a fire?”
“I can’t believe you haven’t heard yet,” Amka said.
Lance’s phone buzzed. Then again. And again. He glanced down at the screen. “Ah. There we go. Texts are rolling in now. Apparently your storage building blew up.”
“No kidding,” Amka said dryly.
May’s eyes narrowed. She handed her sandwich to Lance and moved toward Amka, already shifting into assessment mode. “Were you inside the building when the explosion occurred?”
“She was,” Christian said, his voice grim.
“I’m okay,” Amka added quickly. “Just sore. My ears are ringing a little.”
May squinted at her eyes. “Any loss of consciousness? Blurred vision? Nausea? Headache?”
“Not really. A tiny headache and some pain in my arm.”
May’s gaze swept over her. “Let’s check your vitals and get a better look at that arm. Blast trauma doesn’t always show up right away.” She turned slightly toward Christian. “You have soot all over you. Were you in the blast?”
“No,” Christian said shortly.
Amka wanted to help him get outside where he could find comfort. “He ran into the building and saved me.”
May squinted. “Are you experiencing any symptoms? Burns? Respiratory issues?”
“I inhaled some smoke. A couple of minor burns.” He glanced toward the door. “Nothing that needs treatment. I’ll wait outside.”
“I can find another ride home,” Amka said, a little louder than she meant to.
He looked at her again. Calm. Quiet. Watchful. “Where’s Jarod?” It was the first time he’d said the name.
“Um, he mentioned doing some spring fishin’ up at Rugged Creek, so I’m not sure when he’ll be back.” Well, he had mentioned it the other day, so that’s probably where he’d gone.
Christian nodded. “Then I’ll wait for you.” He turned and walked out without another word.
May watched him go. “Those Osprey brothers are kind of bossy, right?”
The chuckle came before Amka could stop it. Pain followed. She winced, pressing a hand gently to her ribs.
May noticed immediately. “Right. Holding your side like that tells me we could be dealing with more than bruising. Let’s take a look at those ribs and then check for any signs of concussion or soft tissue damage. If your ears are ringing, I want to do a tympanic check, too.”
“Thanks.” Before following, Amka glanced through the front door.
With his broad back to her, Christian stood outside in the rain, arms crossed, head slightly tilted as he stared off into the distance. The mountains loomed ahead of him, all jagged peaks and resilient strength. He didn’t flinch from the cold. He looked like he belonged in it.
She sighed and turned to follow May down the hallway.
Now was not the time to dream about Christian Osprey. Never would be a good time, for tons of reasons. She rubbed her chest.
May glanced at her. “Are you having chest pains?”
“No.” Not the kind the doctor could fix, anyway.
After an extremely thorough—way too thorough—examination, Amka strode out of May’s office, ears still ringing. “I really am all right,” she said, half to herself, half to May trailing behind her.
“I know,” May replied, arms folded across her chest, “but you’re bruised. You need to take it easy for at least a week, and if you have any nausea or dizziness, you have to let me know.”
Lance looked up from his desk in the corner, his eyes wide. “It’s all over town now. Christian carried you out of there like some hero in a war movie.”
Amka closed her eyes for a beat and fought the urge to smack her forehead. “Oh crap,” she muttered. “He’s going to hate that.”
May and Lance nodded at the same time in perfect sync.
The door banged open.
Wyland Friday and his son, Sheldon, bustled in, both of them dripping wet and smelling faintly of river water. Wyland had owned Friday’s Grocery for decades upon decades with his wife, whom he’d lost to kidney disease seven years ago. The men still wore fishing waders and hats, hooks and lures bobbing with every step.