the top chart, scanning the lab reports and papers inside before making his notations. Work kept him busy and sane. Work also kept him distracted. The constant hustle and bustle was part of the reason he spent so much time here. The other part was the fact that he didn’t have much going on outside of this place.
Determined to stay on track, Jake worked his way through the stack of charts until they were finished, then grabbed his keys and did a final check on the condition of his patients at the nurses’ station. Once that was taken care of for the night, Jake headed home.
He climbed behind the wheel of his truck and cranked the engine, squeezing his tired eyes shut. Bobby’s words during that firefight in Kandahar were ringing in his head like a clarion call.
“We’ll make it, bud...”
And they would No matter what trials and temptations Dr. Molly Flynn might pose.
“JUST PUT YOUR arm around it!” Rob yelled to Molly from behind a swath of thick rope. “Pretend it’s that hot doc at the hospital.”
She gave her cameraman a peeved stare. Had her attraction to Jake Ryder been that apparent? If Rob and Neal’s smirks were any indication then, yes, it had. Ugh. She usually kept a tight lid on her emotions. One more casualty of her jet lag and post-break-up-from-Brian funk.
Fabulous.
Exhaling loudly, Molly did her best to snuggle up to the world’s largest broccoli spear—weighing in at an astonishing thirty-nine pounds—and flashed a TV-perfect fake smile for the camera. The thing smelled like dirt and towered above her, its fanned floret casting ominous shadows. She’d read that Alaska was famous for its abnormally large produce, and here she was, within breathing distance of the proof.
“Perfect!” Rob gave her a thumbs-up while Neal texted on his phone.
Remarkably, they seemed to have good cell service out here—better than she’d had on her drive in from the airport the night before.
“I want to grab a corn dog before we head to the next location. Mol, you want anything?”
She shook her head. They’d set out this morning to capture some of the local flavor before her case took precedence. Bright and early, they’d packed up her Range Rover to explore all the area had to offer. After stopping at a diner for breakfast, and taking some exterior shots at the must-see spots in Anchorage—the modern curved sculptures outside the Z.J. Loussac Public Library, the gorgeous Native American exhibits at Rasmuson Center, the rustic quaintness of the Oscar Anderson House Museum, the city’s oldest residence—they’d driven forty minutes north to the small town of Palmer and the Alaska State Fair.
She released the giant cruciferous vegetable and scanned the vendors there, selling everything from pretzels to enormous ice cream cones. The air smelled of sweet popped corn and deep-fried dough. Rob tottered off to get his corn dog and Neal linked arms with Molly, leading her down a path designated as “The Purple Trail” to buy something called a Doughnut Burger.
“C’mon. It’s guaranteed to make you gain ten pounds.” He gave her a wink and placed his order but she passed.
She tried to eat healthily, even while traveling. If she ever let herself go physically her father would be the first to comment, so it was safer to not go down that road to begin with—no matter how tempting at times like this.
After collecting his food, she and Neal took a seat at one of the many wooden picnic tables to wait for Rob. The two guys had been a couple since before she’d joined the network, though they kept their personal relationship out of the office.
“Are you sure you don’t want a bite?” Neal asked.
Molly eyed the thick caribou steak patty between two slabs of grilled glazed doughnut, ketchup and mustard dripping down its sides, with trepidation. She could almost feel her arteries clogging. “Uh...no thanks.”
“It’s so scrumptious.” Neal wiped his face with his napkin, speaking to her around a mouthful of food. “At least try a corn fritter with honey butter dipping sauce. They’re delicious.”
“I’m still stuffed from breakfast, really.”
Molly pulled her phone from her pocket and zipped through her emails while Rob took a seat on the bench beside Neal and slid a plate in front of her.
“I got you a funnel cake, Mol. My treat.” Rob grinned. “Extra powdered sugar.”
Frowning, she stared down at the greasy confection. Its yeasty aroma was enticing, despite its odd look. She’d heard of these things, but never tried one herself. Tentatively she pulled off a tiny chunk and ate it. The treat melted in her mouth, releasing its sweet, rich goodness.
Eyes wide, Molly blinked at her smiling crew. “That’s amazing.”
“Told you.” Neal winked, then nudged Rob with his elbow.
She gobbled down more of the sweet deliciousness before answering her buzzing phone without checking the caller ID, assuming it would be the hospital. “Dr. Molly Flynn.”
“Hello, dear. Did you hear about Martha?”
“Yes, Mother.”
Neal raised a speculative brow and Molly swiveled on her bench to face in the opposite direction. She and her older sister Martha weren’t exactly close, but that hadn’t kept Molly from escaping the dreaded Baby Aboard! email blitz.
“I heard.”
“Then you’ll help me plan the shower?”
“She’s five months along.” Molly squinted into the hazy morning sunshine.
“Never too early to plan, dear. Not if you want the best.”
And of course Martha would have the best. She always got the best—from prom dresses to husbands.
“We need to reserve a room and order flowers. Pick a caterer and a cake maker too.”
“It’s a baby shower, Mother. Not a wedding.”
A cute little girl dressed to perform in one of the fair’s many shows waddled by and Molly smiled. She’d always loved children, but having her own someday seemed farther out of reach than ever. Mainly because of the belief her father had instilled within her every day of her childhood—that if people saw her true fallible self, her imperfections and quirks, they wouldn’t love her, couldn’t love her. So she hid behind her slick professionalism, her media persona, never letting anyone get too close to the truth.
“Speaking of weddings—how are things with Brian?” her mother asked.
The question hit Molly like a sucker punch. For a moment she considered lying about their separation, but her mother would find out soon enough—if she didn’t already know. “We’re taking a break.”
“Break?”
“Yes.” Molly reached behind her and grabbed the remaining huge chunk of funnel cake, shoving it in her mouth without thinking. “He’s busy with stocks and bonds and I’m swamped with shooting in Anchorage for the next few weeks, so it’s fine.”
“I see.” Her mother’s tone suggested that she’d seen straight through Molly’s crap. “You can’t keep doing this, dear.”
“Doing what?”
“Putting your personal life on hold. You’re not getting any younger.”
Exactly what she didn’t need today. A baby pep-talk from her mother. When she was a teen, Molly had often wished she had the kind of parents that showed up in her favorite sitcoms. The loving, supportive variety, who never pushed their kids to do things they didn’t want and loved them unconditionally for who they were. But real life wasn’t like TV, and usually you just had to do the best with what