Page 60 of We Were Something
She licks her lips before biting the bottom one, looking at my mouth and then back at my eyes.
“They will be when I’m on my knees,” she says, her voice seductive and raspy in a way that sends a delicious shiver up my spine.
There’s that teasing I can’t help but love.
I shake my head. “The things you say.”
“I think you’re starting to like it.”
“I’vealwaysliked it,” I tell her, tugging her in for one more quick kiss before turning to grab the duffle of clothing Carrie prepped for me off my couch.
“I have to head up to the sixth floor for the actual interview,” I tell her, trying to shift my mindset for what’s to come. “We’re doing the pictures afterward, I think.”
“No problem. I can wait here, if you want.”
I shake my head. “Actually, will you come up with me and be my ‘assistant’?” I ask, the idea coming to me in the moment. “That way you can get a little bossy about the schedule and what I’m wearing. I don’t want them putting me in some weird outfit that makes me look ridiculous.”
Paige grins, wrapping her arms around my waist and leaning into me with that youthful flirtatiousness I’m becoming more and more enamored with.
“Don’t you have arealassistant who might get mad at me for stealing her job?”
I laugh. “Carrie would love nothing more than for me to send her home early and drag anyone else up there with me instead,” I tell her. “Watch.”
Stepping away from Paige, I pull out my phone and call Carrie on speaker.
“Yes, sir?” she says when she answers.
“Carrie, do you mind if I have a friend help out at the interview? I was thinking you could take off early and head home to bug Geoff about that anniversary dinner.”
“Mind? Can I get your friend a thank-you gift?” she jokes.
“That’s what I thought. Enjoy your afternoon.”
“Good luck with your interview!”
I end the call and look at Paige. “See? She’s more than happy to be rid of me.”
Paige snorts. “Clearly.”
“Alright, Dr. Becker, we’ve covered just about everything except for one story that we atSBLonly know a little bit about but would love to share with our readers,” Lars says, steepling his fingers and grinning at me. “And that’s the story of how you became known as the Protector of Pike Place during your time living in Seattle.”
I chuckle, trying to hide my grimace, wishing thatfor oncea journalist would just glean information from other publications instead of wasting my time with the same story I’ve told over and over again. There isn’t any new information to be had from hearing it first-hand.
“Well, it wasn’t as outrageous as some news outlets would like to convince you,” I tell him, “though I know my boss at the time enjoyed fanning the flames of the story as much as possible. The simple version is that a few years back there was this…insane storm. People in Seattle know how to handle a lot of rain, but this was alotof rain. Major flooding issues and lightning strikes leaving massive sections of the city without power. I was stuck at Pike Place Market, huddling under the overhangs and wondering if I should risk braving the weather to get home or just hunker down and wait it out.”
I adjust the watch on my wrist then reach out for the glass of water provided to me, taking a quick sip before continuing.
“There was a young boy who was jumping around in the massive puddles that were accumulating near where we were standing, and then all of a sudden, a car lost control and came barreling into where he was standing. It hit him dead on and tossed him fifteen feet, where he went through a storefront window and sliced open his femoral artery. Now, I don’t know how much you know about anatomy, but this kind of injury can result in someone bleeding out within minutes, a child even faster because they have a lot less blood to lose.”
“That sounds like quite the ordeal,” Lars interjects. “I’m assuming the next part is when you save the day?”
I give him a tight smile.
“Stopping a major artery from bleeding is complicated, but I was able to get to him quickly and use my belt as a tourniquet to slow the bleeding. So…it wasn’t surgery, like some of the news reports said back then. It was just medical training in a non-medical environment. A kind of…in the right place at the right time thing. Any doctor would have done the same.”
“Quick thinking, sound judgment, steady hands,andhumble—sounds like a hero to me,” Lars says, beaming and taking down a few notes. “I read somewhere that you actually drove the boy and his mom to the hospital yourself?”
I nod.
