4. Axel
Chapter Four
AXEL
The rotors slow as I bring the chopper down on the landing pad. Two hours following the initial call, we found our hiker. He was dehydrated, disoriented, but alive. Troy’s hooked him up to fluids in the back. The hiker was in the area where Nina had triangulated the position. I hate to admit it, but she's good.
I've been working with dispatchers for years. Many of them know the protocols but lack the instinct. They don't anticipate. Nina did. And she stayed on comms the entire time, voice steady, giving updates on the weather pattern shift that helped us avoid the worst of the turbulence.
City girl. Right .
Back at base, I find her still at the desk. Her hair's pulled back in a messy ponytail now, a few strands falling around her face. She's fucking gorgeous and something in my chest tightens.
“How's the hiker?” she asks, those big brown eyes lifting to mine.
“Mild dehydration, injured arm. He'll live.” I strip off my flight gloves, tossing them on the desk. “Troy's taking him to county for observation.”
She nods. “I spoke with his emergency contact. His wife's driving here from Bakersville. Should be here in an hour. I’ll let her know he’s at the hospital.”
“Good.” I head for the coffee pot. Nothing like the adrenaline crash after a successful extraction. “You did well on comms.”
“I know.” No false modesty. I like that, even as it irritates me.
I pour two cups, slide one across to her without asking if she wants it. She raises an eyebrow but takes it.
“Is this a peace offering, boss?”
“It's coffee, Nina.”
Her mouth twitches. “You're welcome, by the way.”
“For what?”
“Saving your ass with that weather update. You would've flown right into that downdraft.”
I scowl, but she's right. Had she not caught the sudden pressure change on the instruments, we would've hit it head-on. “I was aware of the conditions.”
She takes a sip, watching me over the rim. Those eyes of hers are too perceptive.
I grunt, which is as close to a concession as she's getting.
Nina wraps her hand around the cup. Her hands are small and soft. I have a sudden, unbidden image of them wrapped around my cock. Clearing my throat, I shift position.
She smiles. “Okay, you forget about rescuing me from the side of the mountain and I’ll forget about you thinking my skills wouldn’t be up to scratch? We have a deal?”
“We're... working on it.”
That earns me a laugh, bright as the sun peeking through the clouds. All I want to do is make her laugh again. This is dangerous.
Her eyes flick to my hand, still bandaged from where I caught it on a low branch during the rescue. “You might want to have Troy look at that when he’s back.”
“It's fine.”
“It's bleeding through.”
Damn it, she's right again. A red stain is spreading through the gauze. “I'll deal with it later.”
She rolls her eyes, sliding open a desk drawer and pulling out a first aid kit. “Give me your hand.”
“That's not necessary.”
“It is when you're dripping blood on my reports.” She gestures impatiently. “Hand. Please.”
Something about her tone makes me comply. I extend my arm, and she takes my wrist, her touch gentle. Her hands are tiny next to mine but steady. Capable.
“This is how you treat all your bosses on the first day?” I ask as she carefully unwraps the gauze.
“Only the stubborn ones.” She examines the cut, a three-inch gash across my palm. “How'd you do this?”
“A branch in the forest. I had to carry the hiker out. It's nothing.”
“It needs stitches, but I'm guessing you're not going to let me tell Troy.”
“You'd be right.”
She sighs, reaching for the antiseptic. “At least let me clean it properly. These butterfly bandages should hold until you get someone to look at it.”
“Where'd you learn this?” I ask as she works.
“Dad's a firefighter. You pick things up.” She doesn't look up, focused on cleaning the wound. “Plus, EMT certification my sophomore year of college.”
I watch her face as she works. The furrow of concentration between her brows, the slight press of her teeth against her lower lip. She's gorgeous in a way that's hard to ignore, especially this close. My cock hardens and lengthens, pressing against my zipper.
She applies the bandages with quick, efficient movements. When she's done, she doesn't immediately let go of my hand. For a moment, we stay like that, her fingers wrapped around my wrist, her thumb against my pulse point.
My heartbeat kicks up, and by the slight widening of her eyes, I know she feels it too.
“All set. Try not to get it wet for 24 hours.” She releases my wrist.
“Yes, ma'am.” The words come out lower than I intended. Her cheeks flush.
I pull my hand back, flexing it cautiously. “Thanks.”
“Just doing my job.”
“Pretty sure wound care isn't in the dispatcher job description.”
She shrugs. “I'm a team player. Unlike some people I could mention.”
I can't help the small smile that tugs at my mouth. “Touché.”
The tension between us shifts, morphs into something else. Something charged. I need to move, to put some distance between us before I do something stupid.
“I've got to check on something,” I’m already backing toward the door. Outside the office, I take a deep breath and try to clear my head, deciding to check in on the dog, see how he’s doing. I jump in my truck and drive up the mountain road from town.
Mom's kitchen is warm, the air fragrant with herbs and something savory bubbling on the stove. Risky raises his head when I walk in, tail thumping against the floor in greeting.
“Look who decided to join us,” Mom’s stirring a pot of what smells like her famous beef stew.
“Just checking on the dog.” I crouch down, letting Risky sniff my hand before scratching behind his ears. He looks better already; eyes brighter, less tension in his body.
“The dog has a name. Risky Forest Blake.”
“Wait, what? Forest?”
“Marcus said Risky needed a middle name. I think it suits him. Anyway, he’s been asking about you.”
“Has he now?” I can't help but smile. “What'd he say?”
“That you're staying for dinner and your hand needs stitches.”
I glance down at my bandaged palm, surprised. “How did you?—”
“A mother knows, Axel. Show me.” She wipes her hands on a dishtowel.
Some habits die hard. I obey, letting her examine the cut under the kitchen light.
“Nina did a good job with these,” she observes, studying the butterfly bandages. “Clean, too. But you still need stitches.”
I freeze. “I didn't say Nina did this.”
Mom's eyes, the same gray-blue as mine, twinkle with mischief. “You didn't have to. Troy’s headed to county with that hiker. Marcus and Hunter are over in Snowflake Falls visiting Zander, Logan’s driving to pick up equipment, Ryder’s at the diner mooning over Frankie. It would only be you and her in the office. Am I right?”
“Mom.”
“I wasn't suggesting anything. How's she settling in?”
I grunt, which Mom correctly interprets as ‘fine but I don't want to talk about it.’
“Sit,” she says, pulling out her medical kit. She works in silence for a few minutes, Risky watching curiously from his spot by the stove.
“You've been a bit withdrawn lately,” Mom observes, tying off a stitch. “Almost as elusive as Logan.”
I shake my head. “Nobody’s as elusive as Logan. Just busy.”
She doesn't believe me. “Mm-hmm. It's been five years, you know.”
For fuck’s sake.
I tense. Five years since Kara left for Seattle, taking the pieces of what I'd thought was just a casual thing but had somehow become my last relationship. Five years of throwing myself into work instead of trying to date.
“Ancient history,” I shrug.
She cuts the final thread, examining her work. “But you're still keeping everyone at arm's length.”
I flex my newly-stitched hand, the pain sharp but manageable. “I'm not avoiding anything.”
“No?” She raises an eyebrow, packing away her kit. “When was the last time you went on a date?”
“I don't have time for all that hassle.”
“We make time for what matters, Axel. Your father taught me that.”
I look away, uncomfortable. It's easier to keep things simple. Professional. Uncomplicated. Especially with someone I work with.
“Not everyone wants to settle down in Ember Heart,” I say, the words coming out more bitter than intended.
Mom's expression softens. “Not everyone leaves, either.” She sighs, turning back to her stew.
“Stay for dinner. Marcus and Hunter will be back soon.”
“Can't. I've got reports to file. And I need to man the radio before the night dispatcher gets there.”
“Of course.” She shakes her head. “At least take some food for that nice Nina who fixed your hand.”
I sigh. “She’s probably left by now. Okay. Fine.”
Mom smiles triumphantly, ladling stew into containers. Risky watches the process with obvious interest, drooling slightly.
“He's looking better.”
“Risky'll be up and running circles around you in no time. The salve is working wonders.”
I nod.
“You should bring her by,” Mom says casually. Too casually. “Nina. For Sunday dinner.”
“Mom. Why would I do that?”
“Come on. We always have room for one more. And it sounds like she's new in town.”
“She's my employee. Our employee.”
“Mmm-hmm.” That knowing sound again. Ryder or Troy must have clocked how I looked at Nina and told Mom.
I take the containers, knowing resistance is futile. “Thanks.”
She pats my cheek. “You're a good boy.”
Base is quiet when I return. The night dispatcher won't be in for another hour, and Troy's still at the hospital with our hiker. I expect Nina to be gone, but there she is, hunched over a stack of paperwork, her brow furrowed in concentration.
“You're still here.” I set one of the containers on her desk.
She looks up, surprised. “So are you. What's this?”
“Dinner. My mom's beef stew.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “You brought me dinner?”
“Mom insisted.”
“Right. Thanks.” She opens the container, the rich aroma filling the space between us. “Wow. This smells amazing.”
She takes a bite, and the small sound of pleasure she makes hits me right in the gut. “Oh my god! Your mom's a genius.”
“She knows.” I pull up a chair, opening my own container. We eat in surprisingly comfortable silence for a few minutes.
“How's the hand?” she asks.
I flex it, showing her the stitches. “Good.”
“Your mom did those? They're perfect.”
“She was a nurse. Plus… seven boys. She's had a lot of practice.”
Nina smiles, and there's something sweet in it now, less guarded. “Must have been nice, growing up with brothers. I was an only child.”
“It was chaotic. But yeah, it was never lonely.”
Something flickers across her face. “That sounds... good.”
Our eyes meet, and for a moment, the office fades away. There's just her, and me, and the quiet space between. I find myself noticing things I shouldn't; the curve of her neck, the small scar by her eyebrow, the way her lips part slightly. My cock betrays me, hardening so it’s pressed against my zipper. My heart thunders in my ears as I lean forward, almost unconsciously. She doesn't pull back.
The base radio crackles to life.
“Base, this is Medic Two. We need a location report.”
Nina jumps, practically toppling her chair as she reaches for the comms button. “Copy that, Medic Two.”
She turns back to me, but the spell is broken. I stand up, gathering the empty containers, putting distance between us.
“I’ll take over in my office, you should get home.” My voice is rough.
“Right. Yes. Of course.” She nods too quickly, not quite meeting my eyes.
I walk away, heart hammering like I've just run a mountain trail. Whatever almost happened can't ever happen again.
No matter how much I might want it to.