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That was when he noticed that she was wearing a pretty sundress in bold floral print today, with a high round neck that left her shoulders bare.
He snatched his hand away as if the contact burned him, but the sensation of silky heat lingered against his palm, inviting him to stroke and caress.
Oh, hell no.
He forced himself to focus on the crisis.
“Let’s get her shifted around.” He dropped the first aid kit on the bench behind him, and bent to lift Mrs. S’s legs.
With Summer’s help, he repositioned the old lady so that she sat with her back to the wall, and her legs on the bench. He raised her knees, angling her legs in a bent position to encourage blood flow to her heart.
“Do you know whether she’s taking any medications for heart problems?” he asked.
Summer shook her head. “Not that I know of… though she isn’t the type to admit any weakness.”
Brock huffed out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I noticed.”
Mrs. S groaned and stirred weakly.
“Help’s on the way, Mrs. S,” Brock told her. “While we’re waiting, I want you to chew and swallow an aspirin. Do you think you can do that?”
Her lids fluttered open. “I really wish you would call me Abigail,” she whispered.
Relief spread warmth through Brock’s chest. “Tell you what… if you hang on, and get better, I promise I’ll try to remember to call you by your first name.” He grinned down at her. “Though my mama’s ghost might show up and smack me upside the head for sassing my elders.”
Summer chuckled. His enmity momentarily forgotten, Brock turned his head and shared a smile with her before opening the metal first aid kit case and digging out a packet of aspirin.
“I’ll give it to her, if you hand me one of those glasses of water,” she said, indicating the table with her chin.
He straightened up and handed Summer the aspirin and water, then surveyed his watching customers. “Anyone got a coat they can lend Mrs. S until the EMTs arrive?”
His first aid training had emphasized keeping a heart attack victim warm and comfortable until an ambulance arrived.
He and Summer did what they could for Mrs. S. It felt like an eternity before the Snowberry Springs Fire Department arrived, but in reality, it was less than ten minutes.
Brock knew both of the firefighters entering the diner. One of them was his childhood neighbor Evie, who now ran E.V. Carter Automotive, and the other was his high school buddy Jason Lund, who owned his own cabinetry business here in town.
“Brock, dude, do I need to post a warning about your Daily Specials?” Jason joked as he pushed a gurney through the door that Evie held open for him.
“Not funny, Jayce,” she snapped as she followed him in, lugging a huge blue soft-sided first aid case.
Her concerned gaze met Brock’s. “What happened, Brock? Terri said it was a possible heart attack or stroke?”
He briefly described the situation. Summer chimed in with her grandmother’s vitals. Before he’d emerged from the kitchen, she’d apparently been timing Mrs. S’s breaths and pulse using her vintage wristwatch.
“Good job, guys,” Jason said as he pushed the table further out of the way and squeezed into the booth. “We’ll take it from here.”
∞∞∞
The town’s lone ambulance came and went, rushing Mrs. S off to the nearest hospital, located forty-five minutes away in Livingston.
Crisis over, Brock said goodbye to Jason and Evie, then turned to head back to the kitchen.
That was when he noticed Summer just standing next to the vacated booth. She looked pale and shaken. And surprisingly uncertain.
“Hey, aren’t you going to the hospital?” he asked.
“When my folks get here,” she replied curtly. At his expression, she added, “Grandma was the one who drove us into town. I didn’t think about grabbing her car keys from her purse before the ambulance left.”
