of extra pairs of hands today.”
“That’s settled, then. I’ll get the boys down and they’ll clean her up.”
“Not necessary!” Salty growled.
“Definitely necessary,” said another man who looked an awful lot like Tom Brady. “From where I’m standing, you aren’t looking your best.”
That was one way to put it.
All the blood had drained from Salty’s face. His breath was coming in quick, sharp huffs. The body’s way of coping with pain. If they didn’t get him somewhere dry and warm soon they could add hypothermia to his list.
As if by magic, a woman in a Maple Island Clinic jacket appeared with a backboard.
“Can we get a bit of space around Salty, please, folks?” Alex ordered. “Just need to load him up and get him to the clinic.”
“I don’t know what my insurance is going to think of this,” Salty bit out.
“Doesn’t matter,” Alex said matter-of-factly. “You were doing a clinic rescue mission. All your care is on us.”
A shot of respect crackled along Maggie’s spine. Gorgeous and with ramrod-straight integrity. She sniffed. Didn’t mean his social skills couldn’t do with some improvement, but everyone had their crosses to bear.
Salty grumbled but didn’t resist.
Then Alex started reciting another list of instructions so specific she had to hide her smile.
Dr. Protocol, indeed.
He was obviously a good doctor. His neurosurgical skills were highly lauded in all the articles she’d read about him before she’d taken the three-month contract at the clinic. Ground-breaking this and new innovations that. She’d had run-ins with a lot of surgeons in her time. They could be elitist. Reserved. Brusque. Downright rude. Alex obviously had the brains, but now that she’d watched him interact with Salty and the other islanders who were still pitching in as if this sort of thing happened every day, she realized he also had compassion. And that was a game changer as far as she was concerned. Anyone who could put themselves in someone else’s shoes...
This was going to be a funny few months. Whether it was going to be funny ha-ha or funny peculiar remained to be seen.
“NEUROVASCULAR ASSESSMENT BORDERLINE.”
“Borderline?” Alex took off his coat as he listened to Dr. Cody Brennan reel off his findings.
“The swelling has obviously interfered with certain results. His blood pressure’s all over the place. We’ve set Mr. Harrington—”
“Salty?”
Cody shot him a quick look. “Yes. That’s what I said. Mr. Harrington. Salty. Same thing. We’ve set his leg in a soft cast and put him on a drip. The swelling on his head appears to be superficial. Long and short of it? He won’t need surgery.” Cody was staring at his ever-present tablet as he spoke, and Alex knew him well enough by now that that was probably all the information he’d be getting from his colleague.
As a respected orthopedic surgeon, Alex was more than happy to take Cody’s word for it.
Co-founding the clinic with him had been just about one of the best things he’d done since his wife had died. Not double checking on exactly who they were hiring when Cody had told him he’d brought on another physio was not.
For a number of reasons.
Some were practical. Maggie Green clearly sang from a very different hymnbook when it came to health and safety. Not that he could poke holes in how she’d handled today’s extreme situation, but...
Fine. She unnerved him. Her...her looks. Those dusky rose lips of hers. That smile that seemed to light up her face from the outside in. She oozed life.
“She’s the best in her game.”
“Who?”
“Maggie. So quit looking like I poured salt in your coffee. She’s staying.”
Alex stared at Cody. “I didn’t say one thing about Maggie.”
“You didn’t have to,” Cody said dryly, finally looking up from his tablet. “You’re acting funny.”
Alex just managed to stop himself from retorting, “Am not.”
He was a grown man. He ran a world-class clinic. He did not engage in schoolyard imbroglios over whether or not he had a crush on the new girl.
He fixed Cody with his best grown-up face.
“I presume you’ve got Rosaline on the case?” The Haitian nurse who’d agreed to work over the holiday period was a no-nonsense stickler. Tough enough to take Salty’s complaints—which were accruing by the minute—on the chin.
“Yup.” Cody was already wandering off, lost, no doubt, in the details of another patient’s upcoming surgery. If the weather was anything to go by, he’d be stuck doing the minor surgeries here on the island rather than the more high-stakes surgeries he performed over at Boston Harbor. Alex made a mental to note to charge himself with hiring the next physio. He also needed to put a call in to Dr. Rafael Valdez and commend him on the excellent work he’d done with the twins. They could do with a surgeon of his caliber on staff. He wondered if Rafael would ever consider—
“Um...excuse me.”
Alex felt a tap on his shoulder but didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The combination of the smoky voice and citrus scent spoke for her. Maggie Green.
“Yes? How can I help?” He turned and took a couple of steps back. Close proximity to Maggie was...unsettling.
“Yeah...er...” Her dark eyes shot up to the right as she continued, “This is a little bit awkward, but is there any chance someone could show me to my living quarters? I should probably get a shower.”
Alex narrowed his eyes and scanned her. His response came out in staccato observations.
“Your lips are blue.”
“They’re just a little cold after the day out and Salty was using my fleece as a pillow, so—”
“There’s a bump on your forehead.”
Her slender fingers flew to touch it and when she made contact she drew in a sharp breath. “I’d forgotten about that. Nothing to worry about. Just took a bit of a conk when the children and I were in the ambulance. I’d love to see them, but maybe when I’m looking a bit less like a zombie?” She grimaced and gave her chilled arms a rub.
“Why haven’t you been shown your room yet?”
She grinned. “I’m guessing it might have something to do with young patients arriving in less than ordinary circumstances on a holiday, chased up by the hero of the day getting a double fracture? Plus the fact I’m a week early for work.” She lifted her eyebrows when he said nothing in response. “Maybe?”
She was shivering. Something raw and primal urged him to pull her into his arms. Warm her. Console her. Not particularly professional. Not particularly normal.
“It’s only a short walk from the clinic. Just above the horse barns.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “It’s up a flight of stairs?”
“Yes. Two, I think. In the old hayloft. The apartment overlooks the riding ring. Is that a problem for you?”
“Well, it’s not a bad problem, but it’s not exactly an ideal health and safety situation.” That smile of hers hit her face with full wattage. “Seeing as you like things to be on the up and up, I had just assumed my