Ranch At River's End. Brenda Mott

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      Shirley? Had to be, Jordan thought. She was the one who usually handled the front desk. But he was surprised to hear she’d fainted. Shirley had worked at the hospital for years and seen all kinds of injuries.

      “She did?” Go figure.

      “Yep. And she hit her head, too, so you might be puttin’ stitches in both of us, Doc. I can wait if you need to stitch her up first.”

      “You cannot wait!” Donna Wilkins scolded her son. “I’m sure Dr. Drake isn’t the only doctor here in the E.R.”

      “Actually, I am the only physician on hand at the moment, but Dr. Samuels is just finishing his shift. We’ll page him if we need to.”

      Jordan’s professional calm hid his concern. Someone needed to see if Shirley was okay.

      He was about to duck out quickly to check on the receptionist when a wheelchair rolled into the adjoining exam room, which was partitioned off by a curtain. Jordan couldn’t see the patient, but he heard her protests over the squeak of the chair’s rubber wheels.

      “This is ridiculous. I’m fine, really.”

      Not Shirley.

      “We’ll let Dr. Drake be the judge of that,” Molly Parker said. She’d been a nurse at River’s End Regional for as long as Jordan could remember. “Now get yourself up there on that exam table, Missy, and I’ll see where the doc’s at.”

      If any more people came into the E.R., he’d definitely have to have Dr. Samuels paged.

      “I’m here,” Jordan said. He parted the curtain enough to look discreetly through the opening.

      A petite woman with short, blond hair was in the process of exiting the wheelchair.

      “Is Shirley all right?” Jordan asked. “We’ll need to page Dr. Samuels, Molly, to check on her.”

      The nurse gave him a strange look. “Shirley’s fine—why?”

      “I don’t need a doctor at all,” the blond woman protested as she reluctantly climbed onto the exam table under Molly’s watchful eye. Gingerly, she touched the goose egg Jordan spotted on her forehead. “It’s just a bump.”

      “You hit the corner of the desk and lost consciousness,” Molly said firmly. “But I think you can wait while the doctor stitches Bruce up, right, Dr. Drake? Or do you want me to page Dr. Samuels?” She looked as confused as Jordan felt.

      He frowned. “I thought it was Shirley who hit her head.”

      “No, no,” Molly said, her mop of dark curls bobbing as she shook her own head. “Dr. Drake, meet Darci Taylor, our new receptionist. Shirley’s training her to replace Tiffany.”

      Who had gone into early labor yesterday afternoon. Now everything fell into place.

      “Jordan Drake,” he said. “You must be from the temp service.” He held out his hand and the woman placed hers in it. She had a soft palm, but a surprisingly strong grip, and the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. The scent of vanilla perfume wafted his way, subtle and pleasant.

      “That’s right,” she said. “Nice to meet you. Are you any relation to Dr. Nina Drake?”

      “She’s my sister.” The psychologist of the family. He wondered how Darci Taylor knew Nina. Was she a patient?

      Making a quick assessment of her head injury, Jordan nodded. “This can wait a few moments if you don’t mind.”

      “Not at all. Please—take care of that young man.” She gestured toward the curtained partition, looking pale again.

      “I’ll be with you as soon as I can, Darci.” Her name rolled over his tongue like candy. She was suntanned and pretty—her petite figure all curves beneath the floral-print skirt and silky T-shirt she wore. How on earth had he missed her?

      Whoa. What was wrong with him? He saw female patients every day, many of them as pretty or prettier than Darci Taylor.

      But none with eyes that blue.

      DARCI FELT LIKE A COMPLETE idiot. Her first day—Lord, her first few minutes—on the job, and she’d fainted like some Victorian lady. When she’d accepted the position at the hospital through the temp agency, she’d somehow never connected working at a reception desk with seeing blood. Duh. This was the emergency department, and she’d better get her act together in a happy hurry if she intended to keep the position. Her part-time job giving riding lessons on her aunt and uncle’s ranch wasn’t nearly enough to pay the bills.

      Being a single mother wasn’t easy, and this last year had been hell, but she’d managed to get through it.

      Darci shifted farther back on the exam table, waiting her turn. It was impossible not to eavesdrop on Dr. Jordan Drake in the adjoining area. His deep voice was calm and patient as he tended to the boy who’d been brought in with the head wound. And then he laughed at something Bruce Wilkins said, and tiny goose bumps danced along her arms and neck.

      The man had seemed so serious—she wondered what it took to make Dr. Cowboy Boots laugh.

      Now where had that thought come from? Through a slit in the adjoining curtain, she couldn’t help but steal a peek at the doctor. He didn’t look much older than her own thirty-four—and met the old cliché standard of tall, dark and handsome.

      But what sort of doctor wore jeans and cowboy boots with his scrub top? He looked more like a veterinarian who specialized in large animals. Well…River’s End was a tiny ranching community. Maybe the guy treated both humans and livestock.

      Darci’s head throbbed, the bump feeling more like a cantaloupe than a goose egg. But she couldn’t afford to take any time off work.

      She’d combined two part-time jobs in Northglenn, outside of Denver, before moving here with Chris. Working for a temp service, and the twenty-plus hours a week she’d put in at a local stable afforded her the means to take care of her thirteen-year-old son and she hoped to do the same thing in River’s End.

      She planned to work extra hard for Aunt Stella and Uncle Leon. They were the only people who hadn’t turned their backs on her and Chris when her son had committed a crime most people weren’t willing to look past.

      Shaking off the black thoughts, Darci let her mind drift back to handsome Dr. Drake. She couldn’t resist sneaking another peek through the curtain at those Western boots and jeans he wore. Professional though he was, he still looked pretty hot in them. Definitely cowboy casual.

      The only thing that ruined his cowboy image, was his smooth hands. It had felt so good when she’d shaken hands with him.

      His hair, straight and thick and dark as his espresso eyes, was just long enough to brush the top of his collar. Her fingers itched to touch it.

      What was wrong with her? Darci gave herself a mental kick, remembering that she had more serious things to take care of in her life right now. She didn’t have time for good-looking doctors.

      Dr. Cowboy Boots? the imp in the back of her mind teased.

      Not СКАЧАТЬ