“Could leave you in the road. Truck might come by and finish the job.”
“You won’t, though.” I grin at him, resuming my fake limp as we turn onto Main Street. I love how much more loquacious he gets when annoyed. “You’re too curious about what I’ll do when I meet Dr. Chang.”
He doesn’t deny it, which tells me everything I need to know.
NINE
HOLLY
My pager buzzes angrilyagainst my hip as I’m organizing patient files in the clinic’s back office. The screen flashes with an urgent message: TRAUMATIC INJURY - EXAM 2.
My heart rate spikes with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. This is exactly what I need for my wilderness medicine certification—actual trauma experience. I’ve been stuck doing routine checkups and minor ailments for days, with Dr. Klinkhart hovering over my shoulder like I might accidentally amputate someone’s arm while taking their blood pressure.
I grab my stethoscope and rush down the hallway, mentally reviewing trauma protocols. Airway, breathing, circulation. Assess for shock. Stabilize fractures. I push open the door to Exam Room 2, steeling myself for whatever emergency awaits.
And find an alpha with a surfer-boy haircut and a flirtatious smile lounging on the examination table.
“Hey, Doc!” he greets me with a brilliant smile. “Glad they called in the expert for my life-threatening condition.”
My gaze shifts to the corner where a tall figure stands with arms crossed—a masked man with only piercing gray eyesvisible above a skull-patterned bandana covering the lower half of his face.
I blink. My initial adrenaline rush fades when I realize no one is dying, but that doesn’t do much to slow my racing heart. To give myself a second to recover, I briefly look at the chart. “Kai Trujillo? You’re my traumatic injury?”
Kai nods solemnly, then points dramatically to his foot. “Canned corn. Crushed toes. Possible amputation scenario.”
I glance at his foot—completely unmarked, no swelling, no discoloration—then back to his face with its mock-serious expression. “I see. And how exactly did this traumatic corn can incident occur, Mr. Trujillo?”
“Please call me Kai. Mr. Trujillo was my father, and he’d be deeply disappointed that his only son turned out to be such an incredible klutz.” He sits up straighter, expression earnest despite the slight quirk of his lip. “As for my injury, I was innocently browsing the general store’s paint selection when gravity betrayed me. Isn’t that right, Ghost?”
The larger and much quieter alpha’s eyes narrow slightly above his mask. He doesn’t respond.
“Ghost?” I ask, moving to the sink to wash my hands.
“Ghost, my emotional support mountain man. That’s what everyone calls Grayson here,” Kai explains. “On account of how he appears and disappears without warning. Very spooky. Halloween is his favorite holiday.”
Grayson makes a low sound that might be a growl.
“Sorry, he also really enjoys digging into stockings for candy at Christmas,” Kai adds with a wide grin.
I dry my hands and approach the examination table. “Well, let’s take a look at this catastrophic injury, shall we? Can you lie back for me?”
Kai complies with exaggerated care, wincing dramatically as he swings his legs onto the table. “Be gentle with me, Doc. I’m delicate.”
I place my stethoscope against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Strong, steady rhythm. No tachycardia that would indicate actual pain.
“Deep breath in,” I instruct, moving the stethoscope.
“So,” Kai says after inhaling, “you’re new in town. How are you finding our little mountain paradise? Noah get around to giving you the grand tour yet?”
I raise an eyebrow, though I shouldn’t be surprised. A town this small must mean that all the residents know each other. “I wasn’t aware Dr. Klinkhart offered tour guide services.”
“Oh, he doesn’t,” Kai grins. “Though maybe Grayson would be willing. He has always been very concerned that visitors to town settle in well. You might say that he is alwayswatchingout for everyone around here.”
Grayson shifts his weight, the leather of his jacket creaking slightly.
“Breathe out,” I say. Clear and healthy. “And again.”
“You know,” Kai continues between breaths, “as the town’s newest permanent resident—I only moved here fifteen years ago—I feel I should get special treatment here. Maybe a tongue depressor as a souvenir.”
