Risk Factors. Calisa Rhose

to the early morning scene. He’d never been so scared as he’d been in the midst of the steel trap and life threatening circumstances.

       The sun barely pinking the sky, the fumes, fuel–and the woman.

       Fuel soaked into his shirt, the odor sweet and strong as it permeated every sense and burned his skin. He wanted to vomit. Instead he nudged tighter against the rounded side of the leaking tank over the car, and slid his hand on hers until he found a radial pulse. Erratic. His, too.

      He jabbed the butt of the light into his mouth to help him see inside the steel and fiberglass cave, inched farther and located the woman under the dash. How in God’s name had she fit in the cramped area? She twisted her head to the side and a flash of recognition assailed him. He clenched his jaws when the light slipped. Fear thundered through him until he imagined the tank had exploded. He slid out of the car heaving gulps of rank, contaminated air and blinking to regain equilibrium. Pain and guilt rose up, threatening to strangle him. Connor sucked a deep breath and choked on the inhaled fumes. Thankfully, reality crashed back in on the trail of a harsh coughing fit. Keep cool, man. You can do this.

      He shook his head to clear all thoughts, all emotion of the woman he’d lost the year before and the accusations from the surviving young son.

       Focus on the job at hand. Then get the hell out.

      Why that case injected into his memory after a year made no sense, but the therapy sessions that followed had helped minimize those instances over time since, thankfully.

      “He’s fine.” He hadn’t meant to speak tersely, but instances of what people called heroism wasn’t something to brag about. He didn’t do the job to be a hero. It served a need, gave something good back to humanity. Little compassion had been spent on him in his early years. Now he was blessed with adoptive parents who'd taught him about love every day, and he’d set out long ago to put kindness back into the world in exchange. Anything to counteract the abuse he’d suffered as a kid in St. Louis made him appreciate what he’d been through counted.

      The stark curiosity in her eyes held him immobile. She seemed dazed. As dazed as him, gazing into her face, still harboring the unwelcome desire to kiss her.

      He kicked the needling urges to the curb of his conscience and smiled. “He wasn’t injured too badly.”

      “Good. That’s good.” She blinked and backed around to her computer, putting the marble-topped counter between them.

      For her safety, or his? Judging by the glow in her face, probably both. He recognized the starry-eyed glaze. In his business it came with the uniform, or the helicopter. Until now there’d been no interest in what longings might lay behind the look. Dangerous. He didn’t want serious entanglements, but a gambling man might say Vivian Dane did. “Yes. How much do I owe you?”

      “I only charged you overnight and X-ray fees.” Viv failed to meet his gaze as she spoke, handing out a pink receipt copy.

      Was it him, or did Dr. Dane seem nervous? Yes, he was sure of it, though he didn’t know why the sudden change. “Thank you. I’ll return the pet carrier soon. Janna told me to be sure and thank you for her.”

      “Please tell her it was my pleasure.”

      Connor lifted the cage and stared inside at Skittles and chuckled. “Your pleasure to babysit a skunk?”

      “I admit it surprised me when she pulled Skittles out of the crate. I’m basically accustomed to working with cats, dogs, birds…house birds, not the huge wild ones the Reserve brings in. I can do without those,” she said and smiled.

      Her slightly crooked teeth were white against the sunrise pink of her lips, and again he wanted to taste her as the punch from her smile left him breathless. He didn’t remember her as appearing so vital and exuberant at the accident. Everyone had a bad day now and then.

      Clearing his throat, he turned for the door to realize dark had set. With a glance at his watch, Connor was surprised he’d been there for the better part of half an hour. Janna was waiting at his parents’ on the other side of town. “I’m sorry I kept you so late, Dr. Dane. I’d better go.”

      “Viv is fine. Bring Skittles back in a few days for a follow up.”

      Connor stepped back and nodded. He didn’t know what to say as time passed and his senses returned to level ground. He escaped through the door with a last “thanks” over his shoulder, before the needles digging through his groin made contact with long dormant neurons.

      Best to go get Janna home for dinner. Better to forget Vivian Dane altogether and focus his energies on the daughter he was devoted to protecting and raising.