Saving Sophia

A white-hot bolt of pain shoots up my arm, right into the middle of my skull. “Son of a—” I mutter.

Blinking, I try to draw in a slow breath to reset my shocked nervous system. Crazy how fast the message reaches your brain when you slam a hammer down on your thumb.

Gritting my teeth only helps so much, so I let out a few very loud “fucks” as I look at the end of my mashed digit. The nail bed is turning purple already.

Maybe insuring my hands is a good idea after all. Construction work could wreak havoc on my remaining ability to make a livelihood as a doctor.

“What? Forget how to use a hammer?” Carter laughs as he sets down a stack of two-by-fours. He’s playing runner for Caleb and me this morning and generally providing a running commentary on my carpentry skills.

His amusement only seems to make my thumb throb harder. Probably because my blood pressure is going up. “I remember how to throw it at you just fine.”

“Tsk, tsk, you wouldn’t want to hurt the free help, would you? You’re on a deadline and getting this mess done without me would put your panties in a bind.”

“Fuck you,” I grumble, but he’s right. My brothers are damned lifesavers. The clock is ticking and there’s a lot left to do. Shelving, equipment, finishing the reception area, painting. I could push back the opening day of the clinic, but I’ve already got my new hires on the payroll, starting in three days.

Caleb’s circular saw starts screaming as he makes the cuts we need to build out the reception desk.

The smart thing to do would have been to hire this out to our brother Larson, the pro, but something about doing more of it with my own hands is so much more rewarding.

But I’ll be damned if I will admit that his words are a little too close to home. I almost did forget how to use a hammer. That’s what eighteen damn years in the Navy did for me. Sure, I can stitch up a blown-up soldier or make a man practically bionic with hardware, but hitting a damn nail square on the head with my first strike is something I’m going to have to build back up to.

“What’s wrong with you? For a guy who’s got a brand-new pick-up truck and a new business you sure are in a foul mood.” Carter says as he leans against the unpainted wall.

“First, I didn’t want a new damned truck. I liked my old one and I’m still pissed I wrecked it because of a fight with Ms. One Night Stand. Second… I’ve got too much to do.” I grumble.

But what I was really thinking about is the fact that my hands will never get used again the way they once were.

I love trauma surgery and bringing broken things back to wholeness. There’s nothing like seeing that transformation.

Refocusing so I don’t kill any of my other digits, I drive in a few more nails.

“Well,” he chuckles. “The truck thing, yeah, you’ve had better moments.”

“You have no idea. I still regret that idiotic night. Let’s just say I’ll never pick up any party girls again after that fiasco.”

“Anyway, that’s long past, but this whole clinic thing is going to all work out fine. You’ll see.” He glances around the mostly complete reception area. “Eden’s needed an Urgent Care forever. It’s a good thing you’re doing.”

“Helluva lot better than people having to drive to Odgen or Salt Lake for care. And honestly, it’s all I could consider doing. Nothing else held the appeal of…”

He watches me carefully as I let my words drop. Saying the word surgery even hurts.

Caleb grunts, and mumbles, and draws me back from the deep cavern in my brain. He crawls out from below the counter and tests the keyboard drawer.

“The desk looks damned good. Who knew you were a talented carpenter? And that thing…” I point at the keyboard tray, “You’re saving my ass by installing that. I don’t want Callie having an axe to grind from the first day.”

“She’s going to be a great office manager.” He chuckles. “And great for you. She’s as hard-nosed as you are.”

“I expect so. I just hope the woman we hired as the second doctor is the same.”

As I utter the words, a twinge of something hits my gut, landing like an unwanted insect.

I fixate on the sensation for a second. Is this some kind of sixth sense telling me a disaster is coming my way with the letters M.D. behind her name?

Carter sets aside his empty to-go box and leans back on his elbows. “You haven’t met her?”

I shake my head. “She reached out to me through the newspaper after she read the article about the new clinic. But I didn’t speak to her. I passed her on to the hiring agency I was using. I had too much going on as I was finishing with the Navy and making plans for the construction. My recruiter said she’s got good credentials.”

“She from around here?”

“Moving here for the job. But the recruiter said her family lives about forty-five minutes away—Brigham City area. So, she’s semi-local, I guess. Her last name is common enough, it’s Parker, she’s about your and Caleb’s age, I think. Fairly new doctor, but she’s done a lot of ER work since she got out of school.”

Caleb hops up onto the desk, good thing we made it double-strong because his ass probably weighs in about two-forty. “You’re going to need a good fill-in doc since you’ll be gone a lot during fire season.”

I nod. “Yeah, she has to be able to manage the place on her own. If not, she’ll be hitting the pavement so fast it makes her head spin. That’s one reason I wanted to open the clinic now, get the bugs worked out before we have to take off, fighting fires.”

“Well, Callie will be a huge asset as office manager. But I wouldn’t count on it being too long before we have to leave. It’s dry this year.”

“Callie will run a tight ship. Now, speaking of assets,” I grab Caleb’s shirt and snatch him off the desk. “Back to work. The clock is ticking.”

Carter stands and brushes off his jeans. “Gotta go to the fire station, boys. Keep up the hard work.”

As soon as the space goes quiet and I get back to work, Caleb asks, “That new doctor single?”

I cut a glare at him. “Don’t even think about it. I have no clue. But the last thing I need is any of you, knuckleheads, getting the bright idea to hook up with her. That would just be weird and wrong.”

I grumble some more as I climb the ladder to start cutting in the paint at the top of the wall.

“No wonder you don’t have any friends. You’ve got a rod up your ass. Loosen up, man.”

“Whatever. I don’t need friends. I’ve got brothers to annoy me.”

Caleb whistles as he paints and my mind goes to the new hire. A lot is riding on having the right people working with me. Undistracted people. Not people dating any of my brothers.

My head twists around when I hear the front door open. “Jeez, Caleb, can’t you lock the damn thing behind yourself?”

“Carter must have forgotten.”

I don’t bother going to see who’s out there when I hear Caleb’s baritone voice around the corner as he greets whoever came in. Hopefully he’s running an intercept.

I go back to laying on a stripe of Jelly Bean Blue against the masking tape. Jelly Bean Blue?

Come on, can’t they have mature names, like… Lake Blue, or Ocean Blue? Nope, instead, I get some color that belongs in a daycare center.

A female voice drifts to me. I can’t make out the words. Probably because of the irritation clogging up my ear canals.

Then she laughs. And I hear that loud and clear. It’s a hearty, feel-it-in-your-bones kind of laugh. A sexy, husky female laugh made for intimate moments.

Which has me curious. Who is Caleb getting so friendly with? Casanova might have met a girl he hasn’t mentioned.

I hear his deep voice. Again, I can’t tell what he’s saying, but there’s no doubt Loverboy is turning on his charms. Next thing you know, he’ll be dragging her off to the supply closet to give her a tour.

Their voices drift closer. A drip of blue paint almost falls off my brush, but I catch it at the last second.

Caleb says something, low and short, and she laughs again, a burst of that female huskiness again.

He chuckles in response. When I glance around, they’ve navigated the corner and are in plain sight. And he’s grinning like a giant donkey, standing next to a petite brunette with the face of an angel.

The woman—girl—is maybe five three. Young… that kind of young that’s hard to pinpoint. She’s old enough to have that sexy laugh, but young enough to make me feel dirty for thinking her laugh is sexy.

My eyes slide down over her dark blue sundress, darker than Jelly Bean Blue but lighter than midnight. Her arms are covered by an unbuttoned flannel shirt in pink and white, and her bare legs drop down into a pair of funky pink Vans sneakers.

She hasn’t seen me yet, but I sure as hell see her.

Then, her voice is clear as a freaking bell, as she says, “So, have you met this guy that’s going to be my boss? Is he like a typical A-hole surgeon?”

My brother points his paintbrush at me, “That’s him right there. And yeah, I can confirm he’s an asshole, but he is my brother, so I might be biased.”