Fixed up in February (Spring River Valley Book 2) by Clarice Wynter Page B

one?
    He smirked, and the smart ass Max was back. “Sounds better than coffee. I’m game.”
    “Go home, Max. I’m not sleeping with you.” She stepped backward through the door and called down the hall for one of the orderlies. “Can I get a wheelchair in here for a discharge? Thanks.”
    Max pouted. “I’ll settle for the coffee.”
    “I’ll give you a call when I’m ready for all that relationship therapy you think you can give me.”
    “Any time. I think together we can sort through your issues, if you just give it a chance.”
    “Fine. I’ll schedule you a colonoscopy, and we can talk then.” She glowered at him.
    “I’m going, I’m going. You can’t blame a guy for trying.”
    “In this case, I think I can.”
     
    * * * *
     
    Max groaned, partly because of the unpleasant soreness that had claimed the entire lower half of his body overnight, and partly because of the scrapes and dents in his best Nikon. The camera he’d been wearing around his neck had taken a worse beating than he had, but at least the digital memory card was intact, and all the pictures he’d taken had come out perfectly.
    He’ d forgotten one side effect of field work was equipment damage, both technical equipment and organic equipment. He rubbed the base of his spine while he perused the shots he planned to upload to the newspaper database to e-mail to Chad Marchand.
    Thoughts of Audrey kept interrupting his work, though, and more than once he found himself staring at his cell phone and considering giving her a call. He couldn’t figure out why the urge to tease this girl was so overwhelming, but something about the fiery flash of her hazel eyes made his blood sizzle.
    She was a live wire all right, and the more he saw her and talked to her, the more he wanted to be the one to tame her, but he hadn’t figured out the right approach yet.
    He finished his work and caved in, dialing her number with his thumb. Had he memorized those digits already? Max, you got it bad. What’s the deal, man?
    She answered on the third ring. “You’ve reached Iron Audrey. At the sound of the beep, hang up.”
    “Oh, I’m wounded. I was calling for medical advice.”
    “Oh really? Broken heart not mended yet?”
    “As a matter of fact, no, but my back is killing me. The X-rays said it was fine, but today, I can hardly move.”
    Her brief silence had him worried that she’d hang up, but when she spoke again, the disapproval was gone from her voice. “Is it a sharp pain or a dull ache?”
    “A dull ache. I’m walking like my grandmother.”
    “Not surprising after what happened. You’ll be sore for a couple of days. Did the resident tell you to take some aspirin or an anti-inflammatory?”
    “Yeah, but I’m not really a pill popper.”
    “Do yourself a favor this once and pop the pills. Get off your feet, and if you have a heating pad, put that on your back. If the pain gets worse instead of better by tomorrow, go back to the ER.”
    “Do you make house calls?”
    “I do not.”
    He moaned. “Do you make exceptions?”
    “I do not.”
    This time he swore he heard a smile in her voice and decided to press his luck. “Do you make chicken soup?”
    “I do not. But…I do know where I can get some.”
    Hope surged in him. “With oyster crackers?”
    He imagined he could hear her rolling her eyes. “What’s your address?”
    “Fourteen Jackson, apartment 3A.”
    “I’ll send someone right over with the soup.”
    “Wait, what? You’re not coming—” She’d already hung up. Max groaned. This girl was going to be the death of him.
     
    * * * *
     
    “Thanks for this,” Audrey said as she packed a tall container of piping hot chicken soup into a paper bag, along with a package of oyster crackers and two bonus blueberry scones.
    Harper grinned broadly, her cheeks pink from the aromatic steam coming from the huge pot of soup simmering in the kitchen of Taverna Fiora. The catering hall, where Harper’s boyfriend Grant Addison