Rescue Me(7)

It helped that their daughter, Audrey, thought her country star father hung the moon. But Ben was just a hometown cowboy, son of their founding pilot Chet King and a member of the PEAK team when he wasn’t out singing about broken hearts and pickups.

Sam glanced up at the group, hoping to see Sierra. She hadn’t arrived yet; she was still driving in from the base with Chet. The rest of the team came in on the chopper or the PEAK truck. Thankfully, Sheriff Blackburn and a few deputies had already put down the party by the time Sam returned to the pit. No doubt, more than a few parents were waiting for their kids at the station in town.

Sam didn’t see Quinn Starr’s father in the waiting room. He should probably let him know his son was safe, if not a little rattled. That would be a fun conversation. Hello, Senator Starr. Yeah, your son was nearly killed tonight—oh, why? Because he was making out with his girlfriend, the daughter of the local pastor . . .

Poor kid. Sam hoped Quinn had figured out a reasonable defense. After all, he did appear to care for Bella.

Sam looked at his scraped and bleeding hands. A tear in his palm burned—probably needed a stitch or two—and his forearms betrayed his fight with the brambles.

The others had suffered about the same, except for Quinn, who’d taken the brunt of the tree on his chest in a wicked scrape. Probably from Pete shoving him into a canopy of pine branches.

Sam got up and the world tilted. He pressed a hand against the wall, woozy. He just needed a soda, some sugar in his bloodstream.

“Sam, you’re bleeding.” This from Jess, a PEAK EMT. He frowned at her, and she raised a blonde eyebrow and pointed at the wall.

He’d left a red palm smudge.

She walked over to him. Uncomplicated, pretty, with long blonde hair and piercing green eyes that could triage a scene in a second, Jess had an easy smile and curves that should probably make a man take notice.

Not that he hadn’t, but he was taken.

Sort of.

He hoped.

Jess took his hand and examined the wound. “This is pretty deep,” she said. “Let’s get it cleaned up.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know. But since I brought my first aid kit, let me play doctor, huh?” She pressed him down into the chair, then went to retrieve the kit.

Pete was leaning against the counter of the nurses’ station, and his gaze followed Jess as she picked up the bag.

Interesting.

A blink later, Pete had turned back to the huddle with Gage, Ben, Kacey, and Ty.

Pete must have cracked a joke, because the team started laughing. Sam shook his head.

“You know Pete handles stress by being a clown, right?” Jess said, crouching in front of him, clearly able to read his mind.

“We nearly died. And Bella—”

“Is going to be fine. She’s a toughie.” Jess dabbed antiseptic on his wound.

Sam closed one eye against the sting and held in a word.

“You know, this is one of those few times you can say something unchurchy if you want. I know it’s got to hurt—you’ve got bark embedded here.”

She’d taken out tweezers and was tugging at the wound. He let out a breath, slow, through his pursed lips. “I got this.”

“Mmmhmm. Of course you do.” She blew on the wound, drying the antiseptic. “I think you need a couple stitches.”

“Just butterfly it, Jess. I need to get home and out of this monkey suit. And—”

“Find your girlfriend. I know. Sierra radioed that she’s on her way.” Jess gave him a wink.

Girlfriend. Sam only wished he could call Sierra that. Even after three months of hanging out with the PEAK team at the Gray Pony Bar and Grill, listening to Ben try out his newest singles, or with the team at their Sunday barbecue, or even going on the occasional walk alone through downtown Mercy Falls for a malt at the Summit Cafe, Sam couldn’t exactly call her his girlfriend.

But he wanted to.

Tonight, he also had this need crawling up inside him to talk to her, to see her smile, maybe finally find that spark that he’d first felt for her.

Back when he’d asked Ian Shaw for the right to date her. Not that the billionaire had any claim on her—after all, Ian was her boss, not her boyfriend. Still, they had history. And a weird connection, even after she quit working for him.

Could be simply the wounds associated with losing Esme, Ian’s niece. They all bore them—even Sierra for her part in letting Esme run away and Sam for his inability to find her.

For at least a couple weeks this summer, being with Sierra felt like forgiveness. As if he might be able to let go of his mistakes.

Lately, however, he seemed to be making enough mistakes to drive her away. No matter what he did, he couldn’t quite get Sierra’s smile to reach her eyes, her laughter to ring authentic.