How I Love You (Love in Charlotte Oaks #6)

1. Dakota

“Got a GSW in bed two,” said a brisk voice from behind me.

I cringed at the mere sound of that voice, then cringed harder when I realized the glossy black privacy screen on my computer might as well have been a mirror from his angle.

“Yeah, rare for around here,” Doctor Dummy, as I not-so-affectionately referred to him, muttered.

He likely thought I made that face about the gunshot victim, but oh, no . That cringe was all for him.

Wordlessly, I got up and stepped out of the nurse’s station, grateful for the chance to put more than a few feet between me and the worst mistake I’d made in my nursing career thus far. I blamed Grey’s Anatomy. Have a secret relationship with a coworker, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

It wasn’t fun.

Well, it was until it wasn’t.

But all thoughts of my relationship drama turned off the second I neared the hullabaloo in bed two. That familiar rush of adrenaline took over, and I focused on one goal: helping the patient.

“Hey, Kota. Got a good one for you,” Bailey said with a wink, her usual no-nonsense expression softened by that rare glint of humor.

I frowned at the paramedic, her dark ponytail bouncing as she stepped back from the gurney. Was Bailey making light of a gunshot wound?

Nah . She couldn’t be. While many of us had a certain dark humor when it came to this stuff… Bailey didn’t. Not after what she—and her husband, the paramedic currently blocking my view of the patient—had been through when they were combat medics in the Navy.

“A good one?” I asked, sure I hadn’t heard her right. I tried and failed to see around Jackson’s large form again, but he was basically a navy blue wall, the back of his medic uniform completely obscuring my view. “Thought it was a gunshot vic.”

“Oh, it is. But he’s a…” She trailed off, tilting her head. “Well, how would your mom describe him? A ‘real peach?’ But she’d say it in that sarcastic, bless-his-heart kinda way.”

I chuckled at her impression of my momma. Bailey wasn’t from our small Tennessee town of Charlotte Oaks, so unlike most of my family and friends, she didn’t have the accent or our love of colorful sayings. She joked about needing a translator “around these parts,” and I didn’t blame her one bit.

But if this patient would be described like that by my momma, now I understood why he was a good one.

“I got this,” I assured her with a wink. “I love peaches.”

Bailey laughed, and as she and Jackson prepared to wheel their gurney out and take off, I finally got a look at our patient.

The best colorful saying Bailey wouldn’t understand for this moment? Knock me down and steal my teeth.

Had I just hallucinated that entire conversation with Bailey, or had she actually warned me about this walking, talking furnace of a man? Because holy smokes, the guy in front of me was the hottest thing I’d ever laid eyes on—and not in the ‘he’ll warm your hands’ kinda way, but more like ‘he’ll burn down your entire life if you’re not careful.’

And to be honest… I’d never been very careful.

Surely, she’d given me a heads-up about all that and not warned me about his attitude, right?

The man stretched out before me was almost too handsome, even covered in blood. And yes, it wasn’t lost on me how wrong that thought was. His brown hair was tousled, and the scruff along his strong jawline only added to the rugged vibe. When paired with his expression, the whole thing made him seem like the kind of guy who could just as easily break your heart or protect it, depending on the day. Or his mood.

And speaking of jawlines, even with the short beard, I could still tell it’d been chiseled from granite—strong, solid, and likely unmovable. Which I bet went hand-in-hand with his personality.

He was lying on his side, his muscular arms inked with tattoos that peeked out from beneath a bloodstained white t-shirt, his lower half hidden beneath a sheet. He had a scowl firmly in place as if someone had dared to inconvenience him by saving his life. Thick, dark lashes framed eyes so intense that—despite the murderous glare—I found myself wondering what color they were. Something about those eyes felt… different, like they held a secret I needed to unlock, but I'd have to get closer to figure out exactly what it was.

He had to be at least 6’5", and that hospital bed? It looked like a dollhouse accessory beneath him. But when that piercing gaze landed on me, my urge to laugh at how small he made the hospital bed look slithered into my gut and hid.

“Dakota,” Doctor Dummy said from my right, making me jump. It sounded like he’d been trying to get my attention for a minute.

Oops .

I tore my gaze from the patient and looked up at the doc.

“I don’t know if you’ve forgotten how to do your job or if you’re still givin’ me the silent treatment, but do you think you can manage to call the station and have ’em send out an officer?”

I didn’t reply; I just turned on my heel and jogged back to the nurse’s station to do as he’d so nicely asked. But I hadn’t left the curtained-off area without risking another glance at the stranger. He was still lying there, muscles taut beneath his bloodstained tee. And when I’d seen the way his murderous glare was trained on Doctor Dummy, a grin tugged at my lips. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t give me a hearty helping of satisfaction watching that much raw intensity aimed at the man I could barely stand.

And Doctor Dummy did not like peaches.

I picked up the receiver behind the desk and dialed the police station, wishing I was still in that ER bay. Maybe if I hadn’t been so thoroughly distracted, I would’ve jumped in and helped with the task at hand.

I bounced from foot to foot. I was just a good nurse, that was all. I was an ER nurse, in fact, which meant it was totally natural that I’d wanna get in on the action of treating a gunshot wound. They really were rare in our quirky little town, and since the guy was clearly okay, it was perfectly normal that I’d want a piece of that action.

The gunshot wound action. Not any other sort of action associated with that giant, scary guy and his strong jawline.

I was here for the blood and guts.

Why is my face on fire?

And… shoot. Now, they were wheeling him in for surgery, and considering I wasn’t a surgical nurse, it seemed I wouldn’t be getting my hands on him at all.

For treatment .

His stare met mine again as they pushed him along, his sharp eyes cutting through the space between us like he was still sizing me up, still lying on his side and somehow managing to look downright homicidal.

Those eyes… there was something about them. Something that made me want to get a closer look, even if it meant risking that scowl again.

But why was he lying on the bed like that, anyway? Had he been shot in the back? That would be awful. Who would do such a thing? And shoot, what if he couldn’t move his legs? What if the bullet was lodged in his spine, and he feared he’d never walk again?

My heart twisted for the scary stranger. I’d be feeling pretty murderous, too, if someone took away my ability to run around like a chicken with my head cut off. It was kinda my thing. Helpful in the ER, but not so great for small-town life since I constantly needed something to do, and this town only had so much excitement to offer. But if I couldn’t at least wander and run and explore on my own two feet, I’d be heartbroken.

“Pick up, pick up,” I muttered under my breath as I listened to the phone ring.

But then I glanced at the green glow of the digital clock on the wall and realized everyone in the dispatch center—along with various members of my family and extended family—were probably busy celebrating Adam and Paisley’s engagement. She was a dispatcher and he was a cop, and he’d planned to propose at her desk today, surrounded by their loved ones. Except for me and the paramedics who’d brought in our patient, as they were Adam’s brother and sister-in-law. But if there was one thing two fellow first responders understood, it was missing something important due to work.

There was a click midway through a ring, then Paisley’s voice came over the line. “Charlotte Oaks Police Department.”

I leaned against the counter, some of that adrenaline from almost treating a gunshot wound leaching out of me now that they’d wheeled him out of my department. “Pais, it’s Dakota.”

“Kota? What’s goin’ on?” she asked, concern replacing the measured, professional tone she’d used when she first answered the call.

The last thing I wanted her to feel was worried about me on such a happy day for her, so I rushed to relieve her. “I’m at work—wish I could be there, of course, but we’re short-staffed. Congratulations!” The second the words were out of my mouth, I gasped, my eyes nearly bugging out of my head. “Shoot, did it happen yet, or did I just ruin it?”

I twirled the landline’s cord around my finger as I waited for Paisley to tell me that she was newly engaged and that I hadn’t just spoiled the biggest moment of my friend’s life.

“You’re fine. It happened,” she assured me, a smile plain as day in her voice. “And thanks.”

I sighed in relief, my free hand pressed to my racing heart. Me and my big mouth .

Still, guilt gnawed at my stomach as I pictured the scene unfolding without me. I really wished I could’ve seen the proposal itself, but hey—at least I hadn’t torpedoed the surprise.

“Now, what’s up?” she asked, bringing me back to the reason for my call.

“I’ve got a patient who just came into the ER with a gunshot wound, so I’m callin’ it in. He’s in surgery, so I don’t know any details, but can you send someone out?”

“Sure thing. Let’s start with his name.”

His name? I didn’t know the stranger’s name, but I knew one thing—despite the scary stare and the fact that he could be seriously injured even though he didn’t appear to be in much pain—he was drop-dead gorgeous in a rogue bounty hunter kinda way.

“I don’t know his name,” I hedged with a grin, “but I can give you a description.”

There was a pause. “Um, is there a reason you wouldn’t be able to direct the officer to the right patient?” she asked with a short laugh.

I let out a giggle, already knowing she’d roll her eyes at me for what I was about to say. “Nope. I just wanted a reason to be able to tell you how much of a smokeshow he is. Seriously, Pais. This guy is hot. ”

Another laugh burst out of her. “Kota. He’s a gunshot victim.”

“Uh, yeah . But he’s a hot one.”

“Girl. Okay, I’m not puttin’ that in the call notes, but feel free to tell me all about it later. I’ll have an officer out there ASAP.”

“Thanks, I’ll meet them at the ER. Congrats again, future Mrs. Wilson!”