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It’s a confusing mix of emotions, attracted to a man who simultaneously drives me crazy. I’m not sure what to make of him, given how rude and commanding he's been with me. Talking to our patients and putting them at ease is an asset in my mind, but Fletcher considers it an annoying weakness.
As our shift finishes and we return to the station, I make a decision. I plan to find Craig and tell him this mentorship is untenable due to personality differences.
I hop out of the passenger seat and start cleaning the ambulance and running through the checklist before heading to Craig’s office.
“Earth to Grace.”
I blink, realising that Fletcher is right behind me and has been trying to capture my attention. I turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “Yes, master?”
My eyes widen when a smile tugs at his mouth. I place a hand over my heart. “Did you …smile?Oh my god, is there a paramedic around here? I think I need chest compressions.”
He lowers his head, and his shoulders shake.
“Bloody hell, are youlaughingnow? Quick, call it in, Fletch. The shock has put me into cardiac arrest. I need defib. Stat.”
His brown eyes hit mine, and the warmth in them does weird things to my nether regions. My breath catches, my nipples harden, and a pulse of need flares to life between my thighs. I was kidding before, but now I think I’m genuinely having a coronary episode.
“Are you done with the comedy?” he asks, his demeanour softening with amusement.
I shrug. “I was gonna say I’m here all night, but as it’s now morning, it doesn’t have quite the same impact.”
“I wanted to ask how you’re feeling after your first shift as a qualified paramedic?”
“You mean, apart from the grumpy co-worker with a chip on his shoulder the size of Big Ben?”
A muscle flicks in his jaw. “I deserve that. I’m sorry. For how I phrased things and for how I’ve behaved. I understand if you want to request another partner, but for what it's worth, I appreciated your help tonight. I was impressed with your ability to jump in and assist immediately. And despite all your blabbing”—he pauses to give me a wry smile that does crazy things to my pulse rate—“you’re damn good at your job.”
I never heard the words “I'm sorry” leave my father's mouth. I’m shocked to hear it come out of any man's mouth. Having my feelings and emotions considered is unknown territory. Hearing Fletcher admit his mistakes takes my opinion of him up a peg or ten.
I take a deep breath and remind myself that one bad day isn’t a pattern. All I need to do is get through my probation period so I can truly embrace this career I’ve chosen. I could ask Craig to partner me with someone else, but maybe it would be better to stick it out with Fletcher, who has a wealth of invaluable experience.
“Thank you. That means a lot. And seeing as we’re having a bit of a moment here, I’m sorry, too, for calling you a Rottweiler and saying you were old. I mean, youarepretty ancient, but—”
“Thirty-five isn’t ancient,” he says, feigning a look of hurt.
“If you say so, master.” I grin. “Listen, how about we chalk today down to getting out of bed on the wrong side, or getting off on the wrong foot, or some other suitably appropriate idiom?”
My words don’t have their intended impact. His eyes cloud over with something I can’t decipher, and I wonder what I’ve said to cause his reaction.
“Let’s get finished up here so we can both go home and get some sleep,” he says, turning away to check the batteries of the portable suction unit.
Once we’ve cleaned and restocked the ambulance, Fletcher climbs out and waits. As I turn to follow, I smack my hip on the handle of the wheelchair sticking out. I curse as pain flares across my hip, and I trip on the step, tumbling out of the back of the vehicle—right into Fletcher's arms.
He's thrown off balance, grunting and wincing as he grips me, saving me from a nasty fall.
“Shit, I’m sorry, I—” I look up to see his hungry gaze fixed on my mouth, and my words dry up as an answering hunger burns through me.
My entire body flushes with awareness at his proximity, of his strong arms wrapped around me, holding me firmly. Something resembling electricity passes between us, tethering us in a moment of pure attraction. Being in his arms feelsgood. Like I’m protected. Safe.
Fletcher lowers me carefully to the floor with a grimace and reaches down to massage his leg. Shit. Did I hurt him? Maybe I landed on him awkwardly or aggravated an old injury.
“I’m sorry, I’m so clumsy. Are … are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he grunts. “Didn’t have time to brace myself properly before you threw yourself at me.”
I glare at him as I rub my bruised hip. “I didn’t throw—”
Fletcher holds up a hand to stall my outburst. “Just kidding. Proving Idohave a sense of humour. I know I’m the last man you’d ever throw yourself at,” he says, his mouth twisting with a wry smile. “Here, let me see.”
