Jennifer Snow – Fighting for Keeps (страница 2)
“Stop it,” she said, smacking his hand away. She moved closer to the head table. “But then it all made sense—why this we...wedding was ha...happening so quickly.”
Rachel’s eyes widened and Nathan shot his new bride a questioning look.
Lindsay turned and pointed at Rachel. “I mean, Rachel wanted to look skinny in her wedding photos...and a baby bump sure wouldn’t have worked in that dress, would it, Rach?” She smiled at her new sister-in-law.
Nathan’s mouth gaped. Both the groom and the bride’s mothers turned to glare at each other. Clearly neither had known. Rachel slumped in her chair, her cheeks glowing.
“You’re pregnant?” Nathan asked her.
Rachel couldn’t look up at her husband.
You could’ve heard a pin drop in the community center as everyone strained to hear what she would say.
“I was going to tell you later tonight...and everyone else at a later time, but...yes, I am,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. She twisted her napkin in her fingers.
“Are you serious?” he asked, cupping his wife’s face.
The two sat there, frozen, staring into each other’s eyes. All the wedding guests leaned in, trying to decipher the moment.
And then Nathan kissed her, whispered something in her ear, and the pair burst into laughter.
The room erupted into applause as congratulations rang out and more champagne was opened in celebration.
The couple shared another kiss and the mothers-in-law hugged, despite it being no secret they weren’t fond of each other, and then went to hug the bride.
Lindsay leaned across the table to join the group hug, but her mother blocked her, so she stood, looking bored and annoyed.
Damage done and no longer in the spotlight, she brought the microphone to her lips again, though no one was really paying attention anymore.
“You’re welcome,” she said, raising her wineglass to the couple before passing out in a heap on the floor—and settling the bet in the corner.
“I DON’T THINK this is necessary,” Noah Parks said, his eyes wide as he stared at the needle in her hand.
“The noise freaked me out,” he mumbled, shoving up the sleeve of the green hospital gown to allow her access to his arm.
And what an arm it was. At six feet and two hundred pounds of solid muscle, Noah was the definition of chiseled strength and athleticism.
Even though she was a professional—the head nurse of the clinic—Lindsay wasn’t oblivious to the effect his smooth, tanned biceps could have on a woman.
It was too bad he used that strength to beat the crap out of other men... That kind of ruined it for her.
She cleared her throat as she wiped the injection site with an alcohol swab. “That’s why we give you headphones.” The scan was painless but without the noise-canceling headphones, patients were often discomfited by the constant thumping and tapping.
She wrapped a rubber tourniquet around his arm and tapped his skin. A quick look at his expression revealed he was already nauseous. “I haven’t even poked you yet.”
He flinched and gripped the edge of the exam table a second later as the needle pierced the skin.
She shook her head. “You get punched in the face for a living and a tiny prick of a needle makes you woozy.” She steadied him. “I’ll leave the room for a moment to let you get settled. When you are ready, lie on the table, head pointed toward the machine—” She stopped. “You probably know the routine better than I do by now. I’ll knock before I come in.”
Picking up his medical file, she left the room and stood outside the door. Scanning his history, she sighed. Three MRIs this year so far. Luckily the magnetic resonance machines didn’t involve X-radiation, otherwise the frequency of these brain and tissue scans could be more detrimental than they were worth.
She didn’t understand why mixed-martial-arts fighters insisted on a career path that made it necessary to have their brains checked for signs of trauma before each fight. The clinic often saw fighters training at Extreme Athletics for their prefight medical clearance, but none as often as Noah. Three fights since January—what was the guy thinking?
She didn’t follow MMA, but even
A glance toward the reception area revealed it was full. And she had to waste a half an hour of her time and everyone else’s on this scan. She shook her head as she placed Noah’s file on her desk.
Every day she cared for patients with injuries and diseases beyond their control. Patients who would love to be healthy and free of their medical issues.
And then there were guys like Noah—perfectly healthy guys who put their bodies in danger every time they went to work. She’d never understand the sport or the mentality of the men who competed in it.
Tapping once on the door, she let herself back into the room. In most city clinics, a technician performed the scans, but here in Brookhollow, the five nurses on staff had been trained to perform a variety of duties—operating the MRI machine was one of them.
“How do you feel?” she asked Noah. The sedative worked quickly in most cases, but with his body mass, she wanted to be sure of its effect.
“Fantastic.”
“Okay.” She handed him the headphones. “Put these on and relax. Remember to stay as still as possible. If you move, the pictures will blur and this will take longer.” She handed him the communication button. “If you need to talk to me, hit the button.”
When he nodded his understanding, she turned her attention to the controls on the side of the machine. She placed the helmet-shaped scanner over his head and he flashed a wide smile.
“You don’t like me much, do you?”
“I’d like you better if you stayed still.” She readjusted the metal frame over his ears, checking to make sure his head was centered. His last couple of scans had been clear, but anything could have changed since his last fight.
At least the fighting commissioners took proper precautions, she’d give them that much.
“But you don’t approve of what I do.”
“I don’t approve of any activity that routinely requires a brain scan. Now,
“Perfect,” he said, but his voice was strained.
“Okay, I’ll be in the other room, press the button if you need me.”
In the lab, she sat at the computer as the scanner performed the first series of scans. Images appeared on the screen in front of her and, to her experienced relief, nothing seemed to be a cause for concern on immediate viewing. Of course the radiologist and the doctor would review the images in more detail that afternoon.
His communicator beeped and she hit the intercom button. “Noah? Something wrong?”
“No, I wanted to ask you something.”
She waited.
He was silent.
“Go ahead.”
“I was wondering if you’d have dinner with me tonight.”
Seriously? The guy was wearing a hospital gown and booties, had half his body in an MRI machine, and he was asking her out? Clearly the relaxation meds she’d given him were working.
She hesitated. She wasn’t sure of his exact age but she suspected he was at least four or five years younger than she was and, given his chosen career, he wasn’t even on her radar of potential men to date. A fighter who put constant stress on his body and mind was not someone she would consider as a life partner, even though at thirty-five, she thought maybe it was time to start taking relationships seriously.
“I have to work.”
“Tomorrow night?”
“No.”
“Oh, come on. You were totally flirting with me at Bailey and Ethan’s wedding last weekend.”
She cringed. She’d known dancing with him had been a mistake, but when the roster of single men in town was made up of high school boys and the over-fifty divorced crowd, her options had been slim.
It had nothing at all to do with the fact that dressed in a suit and tie, Noah had been the hottest man in the room and his occupation had momentarily escaped her mind.
“I also danced with Mr. Grainger, the seventy-year-old manager of the bait-and-tackle store. Don’t read too much into it.”
“I’d like to think I was the better dancer at least.”
“’Bye, Noah.”
A moment later the intercom beeped again. She hit the intercom. “Maybe I should have specified—unless you’re in pain or experiencing anxiety, you don’t need to hit the button.”
“Wait. I am in pain.”