CHAPTER SEVEN
SOPHIA
The phone rings at the charge desk; EMS calling report again. I grab it, already juggling three other things.
“Emergency department.”
“ Kia ora , Sophia.” Once again, that honey-warm Kiwi accent flows over the line. “Got a transport for you.”
My brain stutters for half a second. Jack. Of course it’s Jack.
“Go ahead with report,” I manage, keeping my voice professional.
“Thirty-four-year-old male, chronic pain patient, presenting with acute right lower quadrant pain, fever of 101.2, positive rebound tenderness. Vitals stable, IV established. Patient’s convinced you’ll think he’s drug seeking.”
“Roger that.” I’m updating the computer, but his accent is doing things to my concentration. “ETA?”
“About ten minutes out.”
“Copy that. And you can call back anytime with that accent.”
The words are out before I can stop them. My hand flies to my mouth. Did I just—? Oh my God .
Silence stretches across the line. My face burns. I’m the charge nurse. I don’t flirt with paramedics. I especially don’t accidentally proposition them over recorded hospital lines.
“I mean—to give report. You can call to give report. About patients. That’s what I—”
“Sophia.” The way he says my name stops my babbling. I can hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll hold you to that.”
The line goes dead. I stand there, clutching the phone, wondering if anyone else heard that trainwreck.
Manny, one of our techs, walks by with a knowing smirk. “Smooth, boss. Real smooth.”
Great. Just fantastic.