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“You get used to it. It’s a good feeling helping other people. Some of it isn’t pleasant. Blood and gore don’t bother me, but don’t barf near me or I’ll probably join you.”
“Oh god, me too. I’m a mom and I have to get my husband to clean up when barf happens. After the kids were older than babies, I just couldn’t handle it. I’m a total sympathy stomach person as well.”
“Sympathy stomach. That’s a good way of putting it.”
“What about you?” January’s voice was smaller and weaker. Tavish didn’t like the way she’d gone from white to a nasty shade of grey. “You look like you could handle anything.”
He wanted to handle anything. In that moment, he wanted to be that kind of man that could do that. For her. It was the most ridiculous feeling, and he had no idea where it had come from. “I have my moments. Right now, I’d like to take a moment and get you some juice from the fridge. We stock orange and apple. Do you have a preference?”
“Peach.” It was a good sign that January still had a sense of humor. Her coloring might be off, but it didn’t seem like she was going to pass out. Then again, she might be joking one minute and blacking out the next. She’d clearly lost some blood, and the amount of calories an injury like that used up was pretty serious.
“We have peach crystals. I can mix some up.”
“I was just kidding.”
“No, she wasn’t,” June cut in. “She loves peach juice. She’s like an addict for it. Especially the stuff made from crystals. She likes it strong enough to put hairs on the chest.”
“Oh my god.” January brought her hand up to her face as soon as Tavish released it. He wanted to sit there and keep holding it. He wanted to be near her. Protect her. Help her stand the pain.
Also ridiculous notions. She was handling the pain just fine. Like a champ, actually. She didn’t need him there to get her through it.
He went to the staff kitchen near the back of the clinic. They didn’t often make juice because they stocked the readymade cartons in the fridge, but he figured it couldn’t be that hard. Just grab the pouch of juice crystals, pour some into the plastic jug, add water, stir.
He poured some in a glass to taste and it wasn’t all that cold and tasted mostly just like water. Maybe it wasn’t so easy. He shrugged, put the glass in the sink and kept adding crystals, taking down new glasses to keep everything sanitary, and tasting.
What he finally got was a product that was just about strong enough to do what June had hilariously suggested.
In the little exam room, Josephine was just about finished. He’d seen her put in enough stitches to know without even looking at the wound, but at her hands and their position, when she was almost done.
January had a bit of color in her cheeks, and the way she smiled at him, like he was an angel sweeping in to offer her something she desperately needed at just the right time, made his chest tight. He was more than old enough to realize what attraction was. There was a time when he was younger and he’d spent almost a year in Seattle, doing the college thing and mostly just getting out of Greenacre to experience all aspects of life as some of the younger shifters did, but like all the younger shifters, he also returned home. He only lasted a year, and he was done.
At forty-four, Tavish was no stranger to physical contact. He’d had a rather dry spell, to the tune of at least five years, but he’d been so busy in those past five years, and the five before too, that he didn’t have time to think about physical urges and longings.
Did he get lonely? Sure. There were moments.
Did he want all the risks involved with what a pleasurable encounter could bring? No. No amount of pleasure was worth that potential pain. It would only ever be worth it if he could find a mate one day and she understood what and who he was—and wanted a family despite the potential hardship of carrying a shifter’s child.
“She’s probably going to be so parched she’ll drink the whole pitcher if you stand there any longer gaping.” Kier could be a real asshole sometimes.
Tavish bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep a nasty retort from forming. His body heated from his toes to his cheeks, and he rushed forward and handed the glass of juice over. He’d filled it halfway and January did pretty much throw it all back at once. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and gave him a radiant smile.
Him. No one else.
“That tasted just like my mom makes it. Brought back childhood memories.”
“That sugar should start hitting for real in a few minutes. You’ll feel a lot less lightheaded,” Josephine said. She put her instruments down and scooted back. “You’re all done. I’d like you to just sit there for a little bit while we get you bandaged up, and then maybe another half an hour to make sure you’re okay. But I don’t see any reason that we need to keep you here as a patient as long as you’re careful and you baby that leg for a few days at least.”
“She’ll baby it. I’ll make sure she doesn’t do anything,” June promised.
June jumped up and rushed over to January. She fussed over her sister, taking her hand and stroking her hair away from her forehead.
Watching them sent a sharp, shooting pain through his breastbone that was night and day different from whatever else it was he’d been feeling. He hustled over to clean up so Josephine wouldn’t have to. It was also a good excuse to stay busy.
He wasn’t planning on following January or June anywhere. He was going to stay at the clinic where he was needed. The building was familiar. It was like a second home to him. He was safe there. He didn’t need to venture out, changing tires and helping beautiful women on the side of the road. Especially not injured, beautiful women with sweet smiles that sent hot pulses of electricity buzzing through his veins.
He’d guess that January was probably in her thirties, June maybe a little bit younger than that. He was good at reading people. He could study a person without even realizing he was doing it. It was the shifter senses, his bear working even when he wasn’t out, his keen eyesight, hearing, and smell always at a level that was beyond human comprehension, but he’d learned over the years to be observant. What he observed about January was that she made him distinctly uncomfortable in a way he couldn’t explain. Her presence trigged that warning in his gut that, as Sam’s guard, he’d honed into a finely tuned instrument. She posed no threat, so clearly the alarm bells were haywire. Or they were there for another reason. She’d tripped them either way and they wouldn’t stop sounding in his head. That’s probably what the electricity was. Some sort of adrenaline.
A woman who was in her late thirties didn’t often come unattached. Not that he’d really know, but it made sense. Just because she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring didn’t mean she didn’t have a boyfriend, someone significant, or that she wasn’t married and just hated jewellery.
