A Man to Believe In. Kathleen Pickering

her, the jury was still out. Sure, Peter had charm. But, could he insert an IV into an unconscious and severely dehydrated patient, or anticipate a doctor’s call for meds required for a trauma victim, or accurately assess who needed attention first when multiple trauma victims arrived at the same time? His résumé said he had the experience. Now he had to prove it. Mercy Hospital worked hard to establish its reputation as a state-of-the-art facility, especially with the celebrity population in Montauk. Cassie was curious to put him to the test before she made any definitive conclusions.

      Peter pointed to the wheelchair. “I’m not riding in that thing.”

      Doc clapped him on the shoulder. “Sure you are. Cassie has a license to drive wheelchairs. You’re safe in her hands.”

      Peter stood. “I’m fine. No wheelchair.”

      Cassie wagged a finger at him. “Now don’t be a difficult patient.”

      Doc put an arm around her shoulder. “You’d better not cross her, Peter. This woman is my best nurse.”

      Grateful for the compliment, especially in front of the new guy, she made light of his kind words. “John says that to all his nurses when no one else is listening.”

      Doc looked at his watch. “I have to go. Cassie, when Peter comes in next week, I’d like you to show him around the E.R. I want him totally comfortable before Easter.”

      One-on-one with the surfer stud. Could she handle it? Inwardly, she scoffed. Of course she could. They’d be working together now. It was just a matter of getting used to a new employee. She shot a casual look in his direction. “Think you can make the grade?”

      “Bring it on, Cassie Michaels.”

      Doc shook Peter’s hand. “Looking forward to having you on board. Your cut should be healed sufficiently by then.”

      Peter was smiling, probably at her obvious distress over being put in charge of him. Damn her transparent face.

      “Wouldn’t miss my first day at work for the world, Dr. Bailey. I drove a long way to get here.”

      “Call me Doc. Welcome to Montauk.”

      After John disappeared out the door, Cassie pointed to the wheelchair. “Sit. I’m sure you’d like to get settled.”

      Satchel in hand, Peter climbed into the chair with a suddenly cheerful attitude. “Okay, boss. Take me anywhere you want to go.”

      She pushed him from the room and tried with every ounce of control to keep the visual of taking him to bed out of her mind.

      CHAPTER TWO

      SEATED IN THE passenger seat of Cassie’s Jeep Wrangler, Peter checked his face in the visor mirror. His left eye was swollen and bruised magenta. It would blacken in a few days. The sutures pinched a bit over the cut, which now throbbed with a dull ache.

      “Looking like this, it’s a good thing I’m not coming in until next week. I’d scare patients.”

      She glanced his way. “Does it hurt?”

      Mostly his pride for having had the accident. This wasn’t exactly the way he wanted to present himself to his coworkers. He slid on his Ray-Ban sunglasses against the glaring sun, careful of the bandage on his brow. “No. I’m fine.”

      “Why don’t you use that ice pack a little longer?”

      “Because I want to see where you’re going.”

      “Can’t you see with one eye?”

      He laughed. Cute, but pushy. “I can use a break from the ice.”

      She shook her head. “Why do doctors and nurses make the worst patients?”

      Peter chuckled. “Because we know too much.”

      The hospital was tucked in a cul-de-sac off the main road. A copse of newly greened woods spread from behind the building into the low hills. He was quickly learning that untouched woods were the norm in Montauk. Peter rolled down his window to breathe in the cool, crisp, sun-drenched air. Driving down Montauk Highway, which reduced to a two-way street, yielded exactly what he expected. Small town. Tourist and boutique shops, real estate offices along the sidewalks dotted with bistros and ice cream stands, old beach houses turned into trendy restaurants, local pubs with lobster traps hanging from their outside walls and antique anchors by the steps. He loved Montauk. Already.

      Best thing about it was the woman driving him to his new digs. The comfort he felt so quickly in her company was something he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He’d spent so many years keeping people at arm’s length because of his mom’s issues and the situation at home. Only a handful of friends had ever crossed the threshold of his house. Cassie’s easy manner caught him off guard. He’d felt an instant attraction to her, but he needed to curb the inclination. Curious as to what so attracted him to this woman, he’d watch and listen for a while. He’d already sensed she was being cautious over the same pull he felt.

      One thing for sure, he certainly wanted to know more about her. Yet, he had specifically left California to rebuild his life, to find his footing. He finally had the time to discover who he was and what he truly wanted from life. As tempting as Cassie was—if she were even available—getting involved in a relationship might distract him from needed breathing room. Because he couldn’t see out of his swollen left eye, he had to turn his head completely to look at her. Damn. She was pretty. Just how much breathing room did a guy really need?

      “Can we stop by the gas station to see what condition my truck is in?” he asked.

      “Sure. It’s on the other side of the plaza. We’ll go there first.”

      She maneuvered the Jeep into the traffic circle. This hub was punctuated by the only six-story building in Montauk, which looked like Gulliver among the Lilliputians next to the smaller buildings.

      “Why the one high building?”

      “Historical. In the early nineteen hundreds a land mogul tried to recreate Miami Beach here. That was his office building. It’s now a condominium.”

      Peter looked around. “This doesn’t look like Miami Beach.”

      “No joke. It never happened. The Depression hit. The developer, Fisher was his name, built that tower, Montauk Manor, and dug and dredged Lake Montauk.” She gestured out the window. “He created about thirty notable spots. Then the stock market crashed. Stopped everything. Local zoning change. Nothing tall can be built any longer.”

      “Wow. You’re a natural tour guide.”

      Pride lit her glance. “I know everything about Montauk. What else do you want to hear?”

      He shrugged. “What do you think about outsiders?”

      “You’re only an outsider if you choose to stay that way.”

      Interesting perspective. Would he let Los Angeles slip from his system to become a local? Hell, yes. While growing up, the threat of police, social workers or prying teachers invading his life had been an everyday occurrence with his mom’s unreliable behavior. One would have thought he’d welcome the rescue, but he’d seen too many kids his age get lost in the system, join gangs or become caught up in drugs. He and Gil had made a pact early on that they were safer at home. Mom was passive enough. With Uncle Michael’s help, their plan had worked.

      He’d miss his surfer friends, wouldn’t miss the few girlfriends he’d had. Hadn’t done so well in his choice of women. Guess he’d had a learning curve there. Once Gil had moved out, Peter had become free, ready to shake the dust from his past off his mind. Right now, it felt as if he’d never made a better choice in his life.

      “I’ll enjoy finding my way around.”

      “I think you’ll fit right in.”

      Her smile warmed him. And the dimple in her right cheek was charming as all get-out.