cologne. His nearness
seemed to warm the air between them, and when he leaned toward her, Claire's heart rose to her throat. For a dizzying instant she
imagined what it would be like to be held in his arms.
"Claire!"
As she turned, Claire heard Logan's low grumble.
Erin strode back through the doorway, grinning and holding
out a bakery box. "Krispy Kremes. Snagged them from a sales rep,"
she said, a little breathless as she arrived to stand beside them. She
lifted the lid and prodded the donut glaze with a fingertip. "I'm
giving myself permission to feel lousy to the tune of a zillion calories. Anyone care to join me?"
Logan shifted his weight beside Claire. The motorcycle leathers
creaked with the movement. He shook his head and gave a short
laugh. The cynical edge reappeared as he spoke, but Claire was sure
she heard an undercurrent of regret. "Actually," he said, glancing
at Claire, "I'm more interested in those ways to feel good."
A flush crept up Claire's neck, and she was grateful to see Erin
still inspecting the donuts.
"Well, be a party pooper, then." Erin leveled a look at Logan and
chuckled. "Of course, now we know you're more of a strawberrymilkshake-in-the-park kind of guy."
What's this? A stab of jealousy surprised Claire. Logan and Erin?
Didn't she already have a boyfriend?
She shook off the thought as Erin tugged at her sleeve. "But
Claire has to at least split one with me. Because this is the closest
we get to cake, and it's your last day, isn't it?"
Last day. Claire felt the strange sadness again. It made no sense
and was even more confusing as she looked at Logan. He'd asked the
same question. "Yes," she answered with as casual a shrug as she could
muster. "I'm finished. Unless anyone wants another pamphlet?"
"No way." Logan glanced at the dry-erase board just beyond, where the social worker had written a last suggestion for the ER
staff in bold letters: The most successful way to deal with traumatic
stress is to face it. Feel it and heal it. He frowned, and his voice
emerged sharp and surprisingly bitter. "No more of any of this. I've
already had way more than I can stomach." His eyes seemed dark,
his gaze far away.
Claire's mouth opened, but no words came. Only the sickening
feeling that she'd been right all along about this insensitive man.
He didn't care about his staff or anybody but himself.
"Logan, what's wrong with you?" Erin's eyes widened. "Claire's
worked hard to try and help us, and your attitude is-"
Claire stopped her before she could continue. "It doesn't matter. I know how Dr. Caldwell feels about this process. It was obvious
from the start." She couldn't resist a jab. "And now look, I've gone
and ruined his day off." Back at you, McSnarly. She was glaring and
she didn't care; after all, she wasn't going to have to deal with him
anymore.
Logan glowered at Claire. "That's right. You did. And I could
handle that, if your people hadn't just tried their best to convince
half my team to call in sick next week. Who's going to replace
them?" He pointed at her. "You?"
Erin tried to step between them, but she wasn't fast enough.
Claire pressed forward until Logan's pointing finger brushed
her collarbone. She jutted her chin and glared at him, trembling
with anger. "Oh? You mean you can't fix them all with country
music and pizza?"
From the hospital patio, Claire heard the distant rev of a motorcycle engine. Like the warning growl of a Sierra mountain lion before it sprang away. Her breath escaped in a sigh of relief. Good,
he's going. The donut was working too; if she could have eaten it
while running a 10K, it would have been perfect. Endorphins and
donut glaze could melt Logan Caldwell away faster than a bucket
of water on the Wicked Witch of the West.
But maybe it had been good to see his true colors. He was
insensitive, self-involved, and heartless. There was nothing attractive about a man who couldn't dredge up some empathy for his
seemed to warm the air between them, and when he leaned toward her, Claire's heart rose to her throat. For a dizzying instant she
imagined what it would be like to be held in his arms.
"Claire!"
As she turned, Claire heard Logan's low grumble.
Erin strode back through the doorway, grinning and holding
out a bakery box. "Krispy Kremes. Snagged them from a sales rep,"
she said, a little breathless as she arrived to stand beside them. She
lifted the lid and prodded the donut glaze with a fingertip. "I'm
giving myself permission to feel lousy to the tune of a zillion calories. Anyone care to join me?"
Logan shifted his weight beside Claire. The motorcycle leathers
creaked with the movement. He shook his head and gave a short
laugh. The cynical edge reappeared as he spoke, but Claire was sure
she heard an undercurrent of regret. "Actually," he said, glancing
at Claire, "I'm more interested in those ways to feel good."
A flush crept up Claire's neck, and she was grateful to see Erin
still inspecting the donuts.
"Well, be a party pooper, then." Erin leveled a look at Logan and
chuckled. "Of course, now we know you're more of a strawberrymilkshake-in-the-park kind of guy."
What's this? A stab of jealousy surprised Claire. Logan and Erin?
Didn't she already have a boyfriend?
She shook off the thought as Erin tugged at her sleeve. "But
Claire has to at least split one with me. Because this is the closest
we get to cake, and it's your last day, isn't it?"
Last day. Claire felt the strange sadness again. It made no sense
and was even more confusing as she looked at Logan. He'd asked the
same question. "Yes," she answered with as casual a shrug as she could
muster. "I'm finished. Unless anyone wants another pamphlet?"
"No way." Logan glanced at the dry-erase board just beyond, where the social worker had written a last suggestion for the ER
staff in bold letters: The most successful way to deal with traumatic
stress is to face it. Feel it and heal it. He frowned, and his voice
emerged sharp and surprisingly bitter. "No more of any of this. I've
already had way more than I can stomach." His eyes seemed dark,
his gaze far away.
Claire's mouth opened, but no words came. Only the sickening
feeling that she'd been right all along about this insensitive man.
He didn't care about his staff or anybody but himself.
"Logan, what's wrong with you?" Erin's eyes widened. "Claire's
worked hard to try and help us, and your attitude is-"
Claire stopped her before she could continue. "It doesn't matter. I know how Dr. Caldwell feels about this process. It was obvious
from the start." She couldn't resist a jab. "And now look, I've gone
and ruined his day off." Back at you, McSnarly. She was glaring and
she didn't care; after all, she wasn't going to have to deal with him
anymore.
Logan glowered at Claire. "That's right. You did. And I could
handle that, if your people hadn't just tried their best to convince
half my team to call in sick next week. Who's going to replace
them?" He pointed at her. "You?"
Erin tried to step between them, but she wasn't fast enough.
Claire pressed forward until Logan's pointing finger brushed
her collarbone. She jutted her chin and glared at him, trembling
with anger. "Oh? You mean you can't fix them all with country
music and pizza?"
From the hospital patio, Claire heard the distant rev of a motorcycle engine. Like the warning growl of a Sierra mountain lion before it sprang away. Her breath escaped in a sigh of relief. Good,
he's going. The donut was working too; if she could have eaten it
while running a 10K, it would have been perfect. Endorphins and
donut glaze could melt Logan Caldwell away faster than a bucket
of water on the Wicked Witch of the West.
But maybe it had been good to see his true colors. He was
insensitive, self-involved, and heartless. There was nothing attractive about a man who couldn't dredge up some empathy for his
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