learned her lesson a long time ago.
The noise outside grew worse as the storm passed overhead. Crashes and the sound of breaking glass competed with the roaring of the wind.
In the corner, Mrs. Arnold began to wheeze. She reached for her handbag, but couldn’t catch her breath enough to open it and pull out her inhaler.
“Asthma,” Nora told the doctor as he moved to the woman.
Stephen Remington gave her a quick nod. “I know. She’s my patient.”
Nora gritted her teeth. “Well, excuse me for trying to help,” she muttered under her breath, and hoped the storm would be over soon. If she had to spend much more time trapped with that horrible man, fur was going to fly.
Nearly twenty minutes later, they emerged from the cellar. Nora was one of the last to step out into the murky darkness that was just beginning to clear. The main street had been spared, so her shop was still standing. But two side streets looked as if they’d been crushed by a giant. Debris lay scattered everywhere, and there was a bright red pickup truck parked on the sidewalk by the hardware store. A bright red pickup truck that hadn’t been there before the storm.
The first light drops of rain fell, making her jog toward her shop. The storm was moving northeast, which meant the ranch had already been hit. She wanted to call and see if everything was all right with her family.
She caught up with a couple of her clients as everyone hurried to cover. She offered assistance in the way of a sturdy arm. As she and the last stragglers entered the salon, Jill put down the phone.
“It’s dead,” her stylist said. “No real surprise there. We don’t have electricity, either.”
Nora grinned. “I can fix one of those problems, if not the other.” She walked over to her purse and pulled out her cell phone. “Welcome to the new century. If the cell towers survived we should have service this way.”
She turned on the small phone, then handed it to Jill. “You’ve got kids. Check on them first. I’m sure they’re fine, though. Judging from the direction the storm is heading, I’ll bet it missed your place by several miles.”
Her stylist gave her a grateful smile, then began pushing numbers. Nora saw that Mary and Kathy had already helped their clients collect purses and coats. Everyone was instructed to stay home until power was restored, then return to get the rest of their hair treatment.
Mrs. Arnold, her asthma under control and her hair still tightly rolled in curlers, slipped a scarf over her head. “This will probably dry on its own,” she said cheerfully. “I’ll come back when it does and you can comb it out.”
“Absolutely,” Nora promised. She was about to say something else when she noticed Rosie running toward the medical office across the street.
Nora stepped outside. “Are there injuries?” she yelled.
Rosie paused to catch her breath. “About a dozen or more. Orchard Park is completely gone. There were young kids at home with their moms, plus the construction workers at the new places. Dr. Remington is assessing the injuries now, and we’re going to call in a helicopter for the worst ones. I need to bring supplies.”
Orchard Park was a new residential subdivision in Lone Star Canyon. It was only about half-completed with dozens of houses in various stages of construction. The homes were smaller and less expensive—perfect starter places, which meant plenty of families with young children.
“Do you need another pair of hands?” Nora asked. “Everyone here is fine. I don’t know first aid but I can follow directions.”
Rosie gave her a grateful smile. “Absolutely. Come help me carry stuff back, then we’ll put you to work.”
Nora quickly made arrangements for the salon. Jill was going home to check on her kids. Mary would walk a couple of their clients home while Kathy stayed at the salon. That taken care of, Nora hurried toward the medical offices and prayed that the injuries were minor. For herself she also prayed that she didn’t have to see too much blood. She could verbally take down any man anywhere, but the sight of blood sent her to her knees.
The helicopter lifted off with a rush of wind that reminded Stephen of the tornado. When the pilot had turned west, toward the county hospital, Stephen shifted mental gears, releasing that patient to the care of the Medi-Vac team and focusing on the few people he had left to treat. Nurse Rosie, efficient as always, had helped him evaluate injuries. She’d collected supplies, found family members and had generally acted like the professional he knew her to be. What was surprising was her assistant.
When Rosie had run back to the office for more supplies, she’d returned with an armful of necessities and Nora Darby. The beautiful twenty-something brunette didn’t know squat about being a nurse, but she pitched in wherever Rosie said, applying pressure, irrigating cuts, holding hands, offering words of comfort. She’d gone pale a few times, but otherwise had been a trouper. She might have a dangerous mouth on her, but she also had plenty of backbone and compassion.
He walked to the makeshift first aid station he and Rosie had set up in the parking lot of Kroger’s market. The long awning provided cover from the rain that continued to fall. Stephen checked stitches in the index finger of a sobbing four-year-old, then removed glass from a young man’s eye.
“You’ll need to come back in the morning,” he told the carpenter. “I’ll take off the patch and we’ll do a quick vision test. But from what I can see, you’re going to be just fine.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
The two men shook hands. Rosie walked over and smiled at the patient, then looked at Stephen. “We’re about done here,” she said. “Do you want to head back to the office in case we get walk-ins? I can stay behind and gather the equipment.”
“I’ll help,” said one of the construction guys who had brought in his buddy. “We can put everything in my truck.”
Stephen figured his generosity had less to do with an altruistic nature and more to do with Rosie’s curvy, petite figure and warm brown eyes. In the past six months he’d learned that his incredibly efficient nurse was in her mid-thirties, divorced and kept to herself in her spare time. Sort of like Nora, he thought, eyeing the tall woman talking to a young mother with two scared but uninjured kids. Except Rosie always had a kind word for everyone and Nora had a chip on her shoulder the size of an SUV.
He and Rosie were about the same age. They were both single. He supposed that something should have sparked between them, but it hadn’t. They were work friends, nothing more. So far no woman had captured his attention—not that he was surprised.
He left Rosie with the calf-eyed construction guy and started walking back to the center of town. From the corner of his eye, he saw Nora move in his direction, then pause as if the thought of them sharing each other’s company was more than she could stand.
“I won’t bite,” he promised, motioning for her to join him.
She raised a single eyebrow. “I wasn’t worried about you doing anything,” she said in a bored tone that implied whatever he might want to do couldn’t be of interest to her.
Stephen considered himself a sensible man, but for the first time in a long time he felt himself wanting to respond to a challenge. Even more fascinating, as the tall beauty fell into step next to him, he found himself intrigued by the woman. Who was Nora Darby and why did she hate every man on sight?
“Thanks for your help today,” he said.
“Not a problem.” She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “We were lucky. There wasn’t much damage in town. I’ve talked to my mom on the cellular phone and I heard that our ranch is fine, but I don’t know about the others. You could get a few more injuries from the outlying areas.”
He hadn’t thought of that. “Good thing we’re going back to the office, then,”