Chapter 1 #2
I refuse to look at his face because I can tell from the deep, gravelly voice that this man is attractive.
We make it out to my front yard, and I spot the stretcher a few feet in front of me.
I reach out, groping for it, as tears stream down my cheeks.
The pain is excruciating, and I can’t stop apologizing as the EMT helps me onto the stretcher.
I’m the one who helps other people; I’m not used to others helping me.
Very few people in my life are reliable, so I’ve learned to depend on myself.
The stretcher is much harder than it looks, making lying on my back unpleasant.
Shifting onto my hip takes some effort, but I successfully curl up on my left side, one hand clutching my torso while the other rests under my head.
The feeling of something warm and fleshy against my arm sets off alarm bells in my head, but I forget about that when I lock eyes with the most handsome man I have ever seen.
His eyes dart around as if unsure where to look while he talks into a device strapped to his shoulder, calling out my vitals as he leans over me, securing me to the stretcher.
I’m jostled down my driveway toward the ambulance, and I pinch my eyes shut in pain as I try to take a deep breath.
Nope, that hurts. I can hear hushed voices, and when I open my eyes, I see old Mrs. Johnson across the street pointing at me with one hand while the other clasps her signature pearl necklace. She is literally clutching her pearls.
And when I look down, I see why.
Fuck my life.
That warm, fleshy thing I felt on my arm earlier was my breast. My whole left breast is out of my shirt.
Lefty decided this was when she would escape her fabric confines and seek freedom with the wind in her hair.
Fuck, I hope there’s no nipple hair on display that I forgot to pluck.
Oh my God, I want to die. The hot EMT saw my whole tit and probably my errant nipple hair.
And now Mrs. Johnson will probably tell all of Chestnut Mountain.
My sweet, older, next door neighbor Cora calls out, “Don’t worry, Bella, I’ll watch Isaac for you,” as the hot EMT loads me into the ambulance.
“Still need me to call someone?”
“If she can stay with him, that’s fine.”
He climbs out of the ambulance to talk to Cora briefly before hopping back in and closing the doors.
“She said she can stay with him till you get home,” Hardy says as he noticeably avoids eye contact.
Because my tit is still exposed, I make an attempt to reach Lefty and tuck her back in her polyester prison, but I can’t due to the straps holding me down.
“Um, Hardy? That’s what you said your name was, right?” This is humiliating.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You can stop calling me ma’am.”
“Okay, Bella. I’m going to need to take your blood pressure again. Can you straighten this arm?” he asks, tapping on the left elbow of the arm that is folded under my head. The one my tit is propped up on.
“Sure,” I reply. It all happens in slow motion. My arm extends out just as he stands and leans over me to grab the blood pressure cuff. He’s at the right angle, and the back of my hand grazes down the front of his pants, smoothing along the bulge in his crotch. The rather large bulge.
“Shit, I’m so sorry!” I say. Why can’t I do anything right? I can’t even hook up with a guy without it ending in disaster. This is the second dick my hand has grazed tonight, and yet I’m no closer to ending my dry spell. Why am I such a hot mess?
“It’s fine. I’m just going to loosen these straps so you can lie flat on your back while I check your vitals.”
The overhead lights in this vehicle are blinding as I lie back against the hard gurney. Hardy places the cuff on my arm while another EMT grabs my right arm and begins tying an elastic around it. Where did he come from? I didn’t hear him get in the ambulance.
Both of my arms are preoccupied, and Lefty still has her head out of the window, tongue flapping in the breeze.
“Hardy, can you do me a favor and put my tit back in my shirt, please?” I turn to the other guy. “Sorry, I don’t know your name, or I would’ve asked you.”
IV guy smiles. “No worries, it’s Mike,” he says, shooting Hardy a smirk. Yup, he definitely has an accent. Irish maybe?
There’s some tugging on my neckline, and I once again feel the fabric covering my escape artist.
“All covered.”
“Thanks. How long was it out?” I ask.
“Since the moment I arrived on the scene.”
“Well, that’s humiliating.”
I wince in embarrassment and from the death grip EMT Mike has on my arm. “I’m having trouble getting a vein to cooperate on this arm. You wanna try the left?”
“Sure,” Hardy says, taking all the implements from him.
“Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit.” I cringe and ball my fist. I hate needles, and we’re in the back of a moving vehicle. These mountain roads are known for sharp curves and potholes, and I just know I’m going to end up getting stabbed. This is how I’m going to die, with these nice men trying to save me.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I try to take calming breaths, but it feels like I’m hyperventilating, and I’m getting lightheaded.
“Her heart rate is elevated,” Mike says, but his voice sounds distant.
A warm hand strokes my head. “Alright, Bella, I need you to breathe,” Hardy commands, looking into my eyes. “That’s it. Deep breaths. In and out. That’s it. Good girl.” His eyes flick over to the monitor, then back to me. “Good to know all it takes is a little praise to calm you down.”
Is he flirting with me?
I take a moment to examine his features.
Full lashes surround crystal blue eyes as he peers at me with concern.
His thick eyebrows are pinched together in concentration.
He smells like smoke and something manly.
There’s a light dusting of a five-o’clock shadow covering his hard jaw that matches the color of his chocolate brown hair.
And his lips. Fuck me, those are thick, full, kissable lips.
“IV’s in,” Hardy says, and I blink in surprise as I look down at my arm.
“Holy shit, I didn’t even feel it.”
“What every guy loves to hear,” Mike jokes.
Hardy scowls at his partner. “Oh, she’d feel it if I wanted her to feel it.”
Are we still talking about the needle?
“Can confirm. I definitely felt it.” I smile as I think about all the things I want to feel on him.
My eyes do a slow perusal of his body, zeroing in on the way his pants tighten across his lap.
He reaches down to adjust himself, and a warm flush passes through my body.
It could be the pain medication taking effect, or it could be the way the hot paramedic is staring at me. Like he wants to devour me.
Am I imagining that?
When we arrive at the hospital, there’s a flurry of movement, and I lose track of Hardy in the shuffle.
After a several hours and two bottles of water, I’m finally able to collect a urine sample only to find out I have a bad bladder infection.
The meds they gave me are already kicking in, giving me a second wind when I walk in the door in the wee hours of the morning, thanks to my friend Lucy who drove me home.
Cora is sitting at my kitchen table with a cup of coffee waiting for me.
“Thank you,” I groan as I sink into the chair and inhale the aroma. “All that, and it was just a bladder infection. I appreciate you staying with Isaac.”
“It’s no problem, dear. He was asleep for most of it. I can stay a little longer if you want to get some rest,” Cora says as she squeezes my arm. She’s been really sweet since we moved in here after my divorce four years ago, helping watch Isaac from time to time.
“I’m fine. I was able to get a little sleep while waiting on the doctor, and I’m oddly wired from the experience and the meds. I want to put away all these Halloween decorations anyway.”
After flashing Mrs. Johnson, the last thing I need is her stirring up more gossip. If I can put my decorations away in a timely manner, maybe she’ll see that I’m not the disaster everyone thinks I am.
“You don’t have to do it all alone, you know. Want some help?”
“That’s really sweet of you, but I wouldn’t feel right putting you out anymore.”
“Nonsense, you’re giving this old lady something to do. Keeps my mind sharp. And we’re a community. Chestnut Mountain may be small, but we help our own.”
“Think it’s too early to put out all my Christmas decor? I could really use some holiday magic right now.” Christmas was my mom’s favorite holiday, and I always miss her most around this time of year. “Maybe it’ll shut Mrs. Johnson up if she sees that I already have my holiday decor up.”
“Oh, I know it will.” There’s a mischievous glint in her eye as she speaks. “That’s why we should definitely do it. That woman runs her mouth more than a parrot in a pet store.”
“I wish all my neighbors were as cool as you.”
Even though it’s five a.m., we start taking down spiders, cobwebs, and cornstalks, and replace them with projector lights, way too many Santas, and a half dozen inflatables.
I try to get a new one each year, but my options are limited in the after-Christmas sales because it’s hard to go all out on a teacher’s budget.
I’ve learned to be resourceful by saving everything and shopping clearance sales.
It’s no Griswold light display, but it sends the message to my grinch of a neighbor: Merry fucking Christmas.