Page 27 of No Greater Love
“‘Educational’?" I pressed, grinning despite myself. "I gotta know: what kind of ‘education’ are we talking about here?"
"The kind that's none of your business," she said, but she was still smiling, and there was color in her cheeks that suggested I was right on target.
"Damn, Sophia!" I laughed, bouncing slightly on my toes, unable to contain my excitement. "Okay! Okay! I see you! Here I was thinking you were all work and no play, but apparently you've been holding out on us! Did you—” I gasped audibly. “Oh my GOD, did you join the mile-high club?Please tell me you joined the mile-high club!"
"Tasha!" Sophia hissed, glancing around the ER, but she was fighting back laughter.
"What? It's a perfectly reasonable question! You were on a very long flight!" I was practically vibrating with curiosity now, completely forgetting where we were. "Or wait—was it the accent? Because honestly, that accent would do things to me too. Like, I get it. Completely."
From across the nurses' station, I caught Nate watching us with an expression somewhere between amusement and mild horror. He shook his head slightly, the kind of look an older sibling might give a particularly exuberant younger one.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Sophia said primly, but the effect was ruined by the fact that she was practically glowing.
"Oh, but youdo. Youabsolutelydo," I said, lowering my voice but not my enthusiasm. "And honestly? Good for you. Really. It's nice to see you... I don't know, properly sexed-up, I guess."
"Jesus, Tasha," Sophia muttered, but she was still smiling.
"What? Life's too short not to get some! Especially with hot foreign guys who probably know what they're doing." I paused, struck by a thought. "OhGod, please tell me he knows what he's doing. Because if Sophia Mitchell finally lets someone past the ice queen fortress and he turns out to be disappointing in bed, I will personally?—"
"Tasha." Sophia's voice carried a warning, but there was warmth underneath it. "You need to stop talking. Now."
I grinned, completely unrepentant. "Fine, fine. But just so you know, I'm living vicariously through you right now. My dating life is nonexistent, so I need details. Not right now, obviously, but later. Over drinks. Many drinks."
For a moment, something softer crossed her expression. "Thanks, Tasha. That... means more than you know."
As she walked away, I found myself reassessing everything I thought I knew about Sophia Mitchell. Maybe the ice queen thing had been more about protection than personality. Maybe she just needed the right person to help her thaw out.
Either way, seeing her this happy was oddly satisfying. If someone as controlled and guarded as Sophia could find whatever it was she'd found in New Zealand, maybe there was hope for the rest of us.
Though watching the kid's mother pace around the waiting area like a caged tiger, I was reminded once again why I preferred keeping my professional and personal lives completely separate.
Some people's family dynamics were just too complicated to navigate.
Give me a straightforward medical emergency over relationship drama any day of the week.
nine
nate
The ER was a controlled hum,the usual Tuesday afternoon rhythm. I was halfway through documenting a sepsis workup when I heard it. The tone first—condescending, hostile—then the words, slithering across the bay like poison.
"Don't you peopleeverlisten? I said I need a real nurse."
My shoulders tensed automatically. Nothing good ever followed "you people." My gaze lifted from the computer, shifting to Bay 4 where Tasha was checking vitals on a middle-aged white guy with an expensive watch and a face twisted in contempt.
"Sir," Tasha responded, her voice controlled with a practiced neutrality I recognized from my time in the service, "I'm administering your medication as ordered by the doctor. If you have concerns about your treatment plan, I'd be happy to page Dr. Lee."
I should have gone back to my charting. Not my patient, not my problem. But something about the set of Tasha's shoulders held my attention. The careful way she kept her face composed despite the hard glitter in her eyes.
"I don't want your kind touching me," the man—Jensen, according to the board—sneered. "Get me someone competent. Someone who actually earned their position instead of filling a quota."
My fingers stilled on my keyboard, a red haze at the edges of my vision.
Tasha's expression never faltered, her professional mask firmly in place. "Sir, I'll be monitoring your pain levels, but please use the call button if you need anything else. Dr. Lee will be in shortly."
She turned to leave, and I should have looked away then. Would have, if Jensen hadn't muttered the slur under his breath—just loud enough to be heard, just soft enough to maintain plausible deniability.
A single word, ugly and deliberate.
