Page 4 of Drifter’s Heart

“Save that angel voice of yours,” Winnie informs her pet rock star, bossy as fuck as always.

I grin at her sass. At least that hasn’t changed in the last few months.

“You’ll need your volume for your patients tomorrow, and you know it. Weekends are always busy as hell.”

My grin fades. “You work together?” My brow dips as I recall a certain Hottie McNurse conversation between her and Lanie, my best friend’s wife-to-be, an eon ago back at Cord’s ranch. “Wait, is this⁠—”

“My friend and workmate,” Winnie stresses as she interrupts me in a too-loud voice between songs. She stares at me in a way that dares me to continue that statement on pain of death.

I’m severely tempted to find out what that sort of ending feels like at her hands. The corner of my mouth quirks at the idea of the potential suicide run. Perhaps Dustan shouldn’t have left me alone after all.

Winnie’s eyes flash.

All right, beautiful. I’ll back it up. For now.

I clear my throat and tear my eyes away from her to focus on the pale man who has held her attention for so long. “You’re Winnie’s workmate, huh? Do you, uh, drive the ambulance together?” For all the years I’ve known Winnie, I literally have no idea how being a paramedic works. Suddenly I’m out of my depth.

Winnie rolls her eyes, slides the drink on the bar out from under my arm, and throws it back. “No, silly. He’s a nurse⁠—”

Yep, I was right.

“—at the hospital. I deliver him patients. Well, not him directly⁠—”

“Sometimes,” interjects Hottie Tom Rock Star McNurse.

“—but usually he’s on similar shifts to me. We often have three a.m. sandwich dinners together.” She shares a soft smile with him that twists my gut.

“Who watches Sally when you’re working nights, now that Lanie’s moved up to Cord’s permanently?” I bark the words out.

Anything to remove the soft smile from her face that’s not aimed at me.

The tactic works, maybe all too well. Silence falls between us as the bar grows rowdier. Rock Star McNurse looks away, studying the stage.

“I either use a neighbor.” Winnie pauses. “Or I call Brad,” she adds stiffly.

Ah, the never usually named ex-husband, who she’s not supposed to see. Ever. Shit. I put my foot in that one well and truly.

“I’m sorry, Winnie,” I murmur, letting my fingertips graze her bare elbow. The contact zings between us. Her breath stalls, and I know she experienced it too. Don’t you deny me. “I didn’t mean to⁠—”

“Well, you did.” She jerks back like I electrocuted her.

She’s right, dammit. I did. The contact slices through me too, a zing that runs from my arm, into my shoulder and heads south so damn fast I can’t keep up.

I need space. Need air. Anything to regain a semblance of sanity right now.

“It’s good to see you, Winnie,” I say softly, stepping back from her before I make another mistake. I need to be away from her before I do something I shouldn’t. Something I promised myself I’d never do.

But the way she eyes me as I head for the door makes me wonder if I shouldn’t stay.

Not tonight, cowboy.

I’ve already broken the look but don’t touch rule that I set myself. If I stay and watch her dance any longer tonight, who knows what else might happen?

I haul my ass out the door. It’s safer this way.

TWO

WINNIE