Love Me Like You Do (Ocean Shores #5)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Working a shift with Eric Valero was like being on a bad date for eight hours.

Kaia Mercer inwardly sighed as she drove the ambulance back to the station with her temporary partner talking nonstop about how great he was at everything.

Shutting up was apparently not one of his many talents.

She drew another deep breath as he mentioned for the tenth time a stock that he'd made a killing on by taking a tip from some guy at the gym.

If he was doing so well in his outside hustles, she didn't know why he was still a paramedic floater.

But she didn't want to ask, because that would only bring more words.

Two more weeks, she reminded herself. Then her partner, Dana Harvey, would be back from her Hawaiian honeymoon, and her life would return to normal.

Until then, she had to put up with Eric, who wasn't terrible at his job, just not that great.

Her sour mood, however, wasn't just because of Eric.

It was ninety-five degrees in Oceanside, and her paramedic's uniform didn't breathe even a little bit.

She was really looking forward to tomorrow, when she could put on her bikini and sit by the Ocean Shores pool, which was one of her favorite places to be.

For now, the air-conditioned station would have to do.

The radio crackled as another call came in. The air conditioning and the pool would have to wait. And now her irritation was compounded by concern, because she'd been to this address twice in the past two weeks.

"I know this man," she said. "Walter Cobb, eighty years old, diabetic, recently moved in with his granddaughter, who works all the time, leaving Walter on his own.

A neighbor called in reporting a possible heart attack two weeks ago and a dizzy spell four days ago.

Both times, his blood sugar was low, and he was easily stabilized. "

"So, he's a frequent flyer."

"It's looking that way. He needs more care than we can give him, but he's also stubbornly independent and frankly, kind of mean.

He doesn't take advice and his granddaughter has never been there when we've been called.

There's no one to follow up with, except the neighbor, who's made it clear she's just calling for help, not getting involved. "

"Our job is to stabilize him. The rest is up to him and his family," Eric said with a curt edge to his voice.

He wasn't wrong. That was the job. It just didn't always sit right with her, not when she could see a problem that could be solved, or at least improved, with more attention.

She stopped in front of the two-story apartment building on Garrison Street in Oceanside and hopped out of the ambulance. They grabbed their gear and headed into the building, a modest, two-story structure with four apartments, two on each floor.

Walter's unit was on the second floor, and when they reached the landing, the door across the hall opened, with a four-inch chain still firmly in place, a woman's face visible in the open crack.

She'd met Doris Park on the last two occasions. She was a cautious, nosy woman in her seventies who lived alone, and while she didn't want to get involved, she seemed to know everything going on in the building.

"Mrs. Park," she said. "What's going on?"

"I heard a crash. I think Walter fell again. I knocked on his door, but he didn't answer, and his granddaughter, Catherine, isn't home."

"Okay." She knocked on Walter's door. "Mr. Cobb? Are you alright?"

She heard a muffled voice, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. She tried the handle, but the door was locked.

"I have a key," Doris volunteered, holding it in her hand as she extended her arm through the opening.

"Thanks." She didn't bother to ask why Doris hadn't used the key herself to check on Walter. She simply unlocked the door and opened it, then handed the key to Eric, who passed it back to Doris.

As she entered the apartment, she saw Walter in the hallway between the two bedrooms. He was on the floor, slumped against the wall, his face pale.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked in confusion. "I didn't say you could come in."

She dropped to her knees next to him. "Mr. Cobb. It's Kaia Mercer. We met last week. Did you fall?"

"No, I didn't fall. I just sat down," he said with annoyance, but there was an uncertainty in his eyes that told the real story.

"Why don't you let me check things out? How's your blood sugar today?"

"I don't know. Same as always," he grumbled, but he submitted to the finger prick without comment.

The number came back lower than she wanted. She took a gel packet out of her kit. "Your sugar is low. Take this."

"I don't like the taste of that."

"Take it anyway." She gave him a pointed look.

He let out a weary sigh, then swallowed the gel without comment, wincing as he did so.

"Did you eat today?" she asked as Eric checked Walter's blood pressure.

"I had coffee."

"That's not food."

"Well, I wasn't hungry before. I thought I'd get something when I went out."

"Blood pressure is low," Eric commented. "I'll take it again in a minute."

She nodded. "Where's your granddaughter, Mr. Cobb?"

"Working. And you don't need to worry Catherine about this. I'm fine. And I have places to go. I feel better now."

"Give it another minute," she told him, putting a hand on his shoulder as he started to move. "I'm concerned about you, Mr. Cobb. This is the third time you've fallen."

"I told you I just sat down to rest."

"On the floor?"

"It's a free country. I can sit wherever I want. It's none of your business. And you can tell that nosy neighbor to stop calling you."

"She's worried about you, as am I. You need to stay on top of your sugar levels."

"I can take care of myself. I've been doing it for a long time."

She waited another five minutes, then checked his blood sugar again, happy to see the number coming up. "When does your granddaughter get home?"

"Tomorrow. She's out of town, some conference," he muttered.

"Is there anyone else who can check on you?"

"I don't need anyone to check on me."

"I'm concerned about your recurring falls. I'd like to take you to the hospital so they can do a more thorough workup."

"I'm not going to the hospital. I'm fine."

"We'll need you to sign this," Eric said, putting a tablet in front of Walter. "It says you're refusing transport to the hospital. You can just use your finger—"

"I know. I did it before." Walter scribbled his name on the tablet and handed it back to Eric.

She helped him to his feet, not thrilled at his unsteadiness, but he seemed to gather more strength as he found his balance. "I think you should stay home and rest. Whatever you need to do can wait."

"I don't need some kid like you to tell me what to do," he grumbled. "I'm fine now."

She hesitated, but Eric's muttered, "Mercer," made her realize she needed to move on, even though she wasn't comfortable leaving Walter alone. But she was a paramedic, not a babysitter, and he was stable. "Eat something. A peanut butter sandwich would be a good start."

"I will," he promised.

She followed Eric out the door and back to the ambulance. "That's not a good living situation," she said as she got behind the wheel.

"Maybe not, but it's not up to you to change his living situation," Eric said pragmatically. "I didn't realize your sharp edge hid such a soft heart, Mercer."

She frowned. "I'm not being soft, I'm assessing the situation, and it's not good."

"We followed protocol. Let's move on. We have another call."

"I know. I got it." But before she could tell dispatch that they were responding, they were waved off and told to return to the station.

"We could have spent more time after all," she said with a sigh.

"And done what? Make him a sandwich?"

"Maybe. This is the third call in two weeks. What condition will he be in the next time we get a call?"

"Why do you care so much about this guy?" he challenged. "Mr. Cobb wasn't very nice."

"He's a veteran. Didn't you see the photos on the table?"

"I didn't, but okay," Eric said with a shrug. "Maybe he can get help from the VA then."

"He's probably too proud to ask." Walter reminded her of her father, another veteran too stubborn to admit he ever needed help. But she'd never been able to change his mind, either. Eric was right. She was being too soft. She'd done her job. That was it.

"What are you doing after shift?" Eric asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"Going to bed," she replied, sensing where his question was leading.

"At nine o'clock on a Friday night? I'm hitting up Manion's. Have you been to that new club yet? They have great music. Come with me, and I'll buy you a drink."

"Thanks, but I'm tired and hot. If anything, I'm going to jump in the pool at my apartment building and then get into bed."

"That apartment building you live in—Ocean Shores, right? I heard everyone who lives there is single and good-looking."

"We have older people living there, too. It's like every other building."

"That's not what my friend said. He went on a date with someone named Skye, and he said he saw nothing but bikini babes by the pool. My lease is up in September. I was thinking about checking your building out."

"There aren't any vacancies right now," she lied.

"Are you sure? Maybe I should talk to the manager."

"Josie will tell you the same thing. I can let you know if things change." She was not at all interested in having Eric as one of her neighbors. She'd never have any peace.

"I don't know if I believe you, Mercer. What's your deal, anyway?"

"I don't have a deal."

"Well, you're not very friendly. You don't seem to have a boyfriend, but I haven't seen you on any of the dating apps."

"I don't do them anymore. Never got good results," she said shortly.

"But you are single."

"Yes," she muttered, not wanting to create more interest by avoiding the question. "And I'm fine with that."

"You should still come out for a drink tonight. Have some fun. Meet some new people."