3. Holden
Holden
The next day I sat on the edge of the exam table, staring at the wall.
The heavy throb in my hand was a reminder of exactly how stupid I’d been earlier today.
I’d been running the skidder, pulling a heavy load of oak, and I’d gripped the steering lever too hard.
The Dermabond had popped right open. It hadn’t bled too much. Not like yesterday.
But the bandage was still soaked red at this point. I’d covered it up with a heavy work glove so none of the other guys could see it.
Any distraction on a logging site was dangerous, and I’d been thinking about Olive ever since she patched me up. I couldn’t get the image of her dark hair and sharp tongue out of my head.
She was something special.
The door creaked open, and the curvy diva walked in.
My chest tightened the second I saw her.
She was wearing dark blue scrubs today that showed off her curves, a clipboard tucked firmly against her chest. She looked strictly professional, but the soft lilt of her mouth threw me completely off balance.
Then her lips pursed tight as she took me in.
I tried to wipe off some of the sawdust, but it was probably too late for that. I’m sure she knew I hadn’t followed doctor’s orders. Or nurse’s orders in this case.
“Let’s see what you did to my handiwork, Holden,” she said, pulling the rolling stool over to settle at the base of the exam table.
I spread my legs to make room for her and held my hand out, flashing an easy smile. “Just a little occupational hazard. Nothing to worry about.”
She didn’t smile back. “Mm-hm. You daredevils are all the same. Full of cocky stupidity. I told you not to use your hand for a week.”
“Maybe I deserve fifty lashings. Do you give those out here, or should I come to your place later tonight?”
“You are trouble,” Olive told me in no uncertain terms.
“Not too much trouble.” I sighed. “Just a working man trying to put gas in my truck and food in my belly.”
I might be smitten with Olive. But she didn’t appear to feel the same way about me.
She took my hand, her warm fingers holding my wrist steady as she carefully unwound the dressing.
Her brow furrowed as the fresh line of dried blood came into view.
“You’ve been using this hand,” she tutted, her eyes flicking up to meet mine.
“A little,” I admitted.
“A little?” she countered, her voice dropping into a stern, no-nonsense register. “Holden, you completely tore the glue open. Did you go straight back to work after you left here yesterday?”
“Naw. I waited until this morning.”
Her ice queen act slipped. “I told you to take it easy.”
I shrugged my shoulder. “I can’t afford to be sidelined for a few days, Olive. The timber doesn’t cut itself. And Dylan won’t like having someone on his crew sidelined for a tiny little cut like this.”
Olive huffed, dropping the soiled bandage into the trash can. “You’re going against doctor’s orders. You’re going to get an infection, or worse. Dylan wouldn’t want you hurting yourself.”
“Technically, I’m going against nurse’s orders,” I teased gently. “I’ve never even seen the doctor.”
“Well, you’re seeing him now,” a deep voice said.
We both looked up.
A man in his forties, in a crisp button-down shirt and a white doctor’s coat, was leaning against the doorframe. He had gray at his temples, sharp eyes, and a relaxed posture.
This must be the infamous Doc Hansen. Everyone at camp talks about him like he’s the patron saint of Red Oak Mountain.
He walked into the room, his gaze flicking between me and Olive with an amused glint in his eye.
So this is my competition.
No wonder all my flirting with Olive was getting me nowhere. What a fool I was to think she’d be interested in a man like me. The doctor didn’t have wood chips in his hair or the stink of a logging camp clinging to his skin. And I knew without a doubt his bank account had more zeros than mine.
“Morning, Doc,” Olive said, not missing a beat as she reached for a fresh bottle of saline.
“Morning, Olive,” Doc Hansen said, his dry voice filling the small space. He looked down at my hand. “Looks like you have a stubborn one here.”
“You have no idea,” Olive agreed, shooting me a dark look. “He might be the worst patient I’ve seen this year.”
“You need to listen to her,” the doctor said mildly. “She’s a nurse practitioner, not just a nurse. That makes her more than qualified to boss you around.”
I looked back at Olive. A nurse practitioner. She was running this place.
I grinned. “She can boss me around any time she wants.”
Olive’s cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink, but she kept her eyes glued to my hand as she cleaned the dried blood.
Doc Hansen chuckled and stepped closer, peering over Olive’s shoulder to inspect the laceration.
“She’s right,” he said, his tone shifting into something more clinical. “The Dermabond failed because of excessive friction and stretching. You need to take a week off work.”
“Naw.” The smile dropped off my face. “Doc, I can’t take a week off. Can’t you just make the glue extra thick?”
“You can take a week off now, or you can risk damaging your hand further,” Doc Hansen said flatly. “Your choice.”
“It’s just that I haven’t been on the logging crew long. I don’t have enough sick time built up.”
He leveled me with a dry stare. “Those Harrison boys will give you time off. You know it.”
I grumbled under my breath, “Just like they gave Brent time off.”
Both Olive and the doctor looked at me quizzically, but didn’t say anything in response.
Then Doc Hansen turned to her. “You got this, Olive. I’m going to see what’s ailing Martha Ellis. She’s sitting in the other exam room right now.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Olive murmured.
He nodded to me and walked out, closing the door softly behind him.
I watched him go as a strange, sour feeling settled in my gut. I shifted my weight on the exam table, the loud scratch of the paper underneath me echoing in the quiet room.
It was obvious those two worked well together. I was just a guy with a dirty shirt and a bleeding hand. A quiet prickle of jealousy flared in my chest.
“He married?” I asked.
Olive snorted. “Why? Are you going to ask him out next?”
“Naw. Just ignore me,” I grumbled.
“What was that about? What you said about Brent?” Olive asked quietly.
She leaned in closer to apply a fresh layer of adhesive, and the scent of clean cotton and vanilla washed over me.
A stark contrast to the heavy smell of sawdust still caught on my clothes.
“I can’t do a week, Olive,” I told her again, my voice dropping lower.
She looked up, her dark eyes searching my face. “Why not?”
“I’m new,” I admitted, the truth slipping out before I could stop it. “I don’t want to be an issue for the team. If I’m not pulling my weight, I’m just dead weight.”
“Dylan isn’t going to fire you over a cut hand,” she said gently.
“You don’t know that.”
“I know Dylan,” she countered. “He’s strict, but he’s fair. And he’s not an idiot. He’d rather have you healthy next week than permanently crippled for the rest of the season.”
My pulse kicked hard as she finished wrapping my hand, her fingers smoothing the white tape down with careful precision.
“That’s not what happened to Brent.”
She didn’t let go right away. Her thumbs rested lightly on the back of my hand, tracing the line of my knuckles. I wanted to stay here and let her nurse me for the rest of my life. Her attention felt good.
“Holden, you know I can’t talk about any other patient’s private medical records. But I think you’ve got it wrong about what happened with Brent. Dylan didn’t fire him.”
I tore my eyes off her hand and up to her face. “He didn’t?”
“No, he didn’t. Rest the hand, Holden,” she chided softly.
“I’ll try,” I lied.
Olive’s eyes narrowed. She dropped my hand and crossed her arms over her chest, putting the bossy nurse look back on her face.
“If you don’t take a break from work,” she warned, “I’ll call Dylan at the camp myself. I’ll personally tell him you’re medically unfit to run any machinery out there. Then he won’t let you within fifty feet of a skidder.”
“Don’t do that to me, hon.”
“Then stay off the logging site. Just give me seven days of good behavior. I’m sure you’re capable of that.”
A slow smile spread across my face.
“Are you threatening me, Olive?”
“I’m promising you,” she shot back. “Take the week off.”
I rubbed the back of my neck with my good hand.
“All right,” I rumbled, leaning forward slightly. “I promise. I’ll take the time off.”
“Good.” She stepped back from the stool. “I’ll see you tomorrow for another check. And the glue better be intact.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I hopped down from the table and headed for the door.
All that meant was I needed to shower before I showed up here after work tomorrow. She’d never know the truth if I wasn’t covered in wood chips.
But as I walked out of the clinic into the bright Ozark sunlight, I knew one thing for absolute certain.
I’d keep coming back to see Nurse Olive until she kicked me out of here.