All I Need (Hearts of the South) Read online

  He stared at the sidewalk beyond the windshield. This had to be the oddest relationship conversation he’d ever had with a woman. Usually they wanted hearts and flowers and all the feelings, right up front. The crazy thing was…it wasn’t a bad idea. He hoped to start a new career phase, and he didn’t really have time for a relationship.

  But damn it, he was tired of being alone all the time too. Besides, if it were all about sex and friendship, he didn’t have to worry about her leaving him.

  “There could be another advantage for you.” Savannah’s quiet, even voice interrupted his thoughts. “Our being seen together could dispel the lingering gossip about you and Lacey.”

  “Well, hell, why didn’t you say that sooner?” He gave her a quick grin, but then frowned. “I’ve never done anything like this. Have you?”

  “No. Kind of like you, I haven’t gotten out much the last couple of years.” She pulled her hand from beneath his and splayed both hands on the steering wheel, stretching out her fingers. “Maybe it’s time.”

  The subdued words felt more like she was talking to herself than him. Silence descended, wrapping around them.

  “Okay.” Emmett blew out a long breath. “Let’s do this.”

  Surprise flashed over her pretty face, then she smiled. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I mean, why not? We both watch football and action movies and like concerts. Neither of us wants a messy emotional involvement.” When he said it aloud, the idea made a crazy kind of sense. “Getting physical can’t hurt, right?”

  “Right.” Her smile widened.

  He couldn’t resist a grin. “So I get to kiss you good night.”

  “Definitely.” On a light laugh, she put the car into gear and backed into the sparse evening traffic. Comfortable quiet hovered around them on the way back to the apartment complex. Anticipation coiled in him. More months than he cared to admit had passed since he’d held a woman, and he wanted to press those curves of hers against him, wanted to experience what her mouth would feel like under his. Wanting tingled in his balls, and he dropped a hand over his lap. Hell, he was half-hard from thinking about kissing her.

  This might turn out to be a very good idea.

  She zipped into her parking space, and he carefully unfolded himself from the seat. Getting in and out of her low-slung car was damned harder than his truck. She waited for him on the walkway before their respective apartments. In the dim light, he couldn’t tell if her eyes held desire or not. He stopped a couple of footsteps away. In the moment, he couldn’t make himself pull her close, couldn’t make himself kiss her. What the hell?

  He glanced away on a chuckle. “It’s weird.”

  “I know.” Her husky laugh tickled his ears, and she stepped closer. “Maybe we can work up to it. Start with hugging instead of kissing.”

  “Hugging?” He lifted a brow at her, askance. “I can’t remember who I hugged last. Probably my mama. Maybe my sister.”

  “My sister. Sometimes my brother-in-law.” She lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. “Let’s at least give it a try.”

  She took another step closer and wrapped her arms about his waist. He draped his arms around her shoulders in an awkward embrace. After a moment, she leaned in, their chests aligned, her chin at his shoulder. He soaked in the sensation of warmth and soft curves pressed into him, and he pulled in a deep inhale. Damn, she smelled good—a blend of florals and clean skin.

  He splayed his hand across her spine. “This is not too bad.”

  “No.” Her nose bumped against his neck. “Georgia or Auburn?”

  He rested his mouth against the smooth silk of her hair. “Georgia.”

  “Good.” A gentle exhale shivered across his clavicle. “My sister and her husband have a house divided and throw a pretty good at-home tailgate party every year. Interested?”

  “Sounds great.” He flexed his hand and pressed her a little closer. “How about a movie tomorrow night?”

  “It’s not a date.” Her mouth moved against him in a smile, and she toyed with the edges of his hair. “I can pick up a pizza on my way in from the hospital.”

  “Nick’s has the best pizza in town and delivers. I’ll order us one.” He pulled back and skimmed his finger along her jaw. “Definitely not a date.”

  She dropped her arms from his waist. “Good night.”

  “Night.” He stood there, even after her door closed behind her with a quiet snick. He didn’t want to go back to his own apartment. Damn it, he was tired of being lonely, and the hell of it was, he hadn’t even realized he was. Hands jammed in his pockets, he relived the feel of her against him.

  Maybe this was a very good idea.

  Panic tried to push its way into Savannah’s throat. Her heart thudded a hard rhythm in her chest. She could still feel Emmett’s warm hand on her back, his lean strength enfolding her. The physical closeness had been more real than she’d thought it would be. The sensation had been odd and unfamiliar, but her body responded to the feel of his. That felt like a betrayal and left her breathless. Maybe she couldn’t do this after all.

  “Stop it,” she whispered. She set her bag on the bench by the door and sank down on the cushioned seat. She also couldn’t be alone forever, either. That wasn’t healthy. She blew out a long breath, kneading at the tense muscles above her knees. “It’s just new, and it’s just physical when you’ve been disconnected so long.”

  She wanted this, and she was safe with him. He didn’t want more either. They’d be friends and enjoy one another, and since they were going in with eyes wide open, no one would get hurt.

  Even her plan-crazy sister would have to admit it was the perfect arrangement.

  Why, then, did she feel so precariously out of control?

  She inhaled slowly, then exhaled as carefully. She wasn’t out of control, and the situation was perfectly under control. The edges of the panic attack receded, and she closed her eyes, a rueful smile pulling at her lips.

  She was going to be okay. She was going to step back into life, into friendship and physical contact, and she was going to be okay.

  All she had to do was breathe through it.

  * * * * *

  Nothing about getting multiple lacerations stitched up intimidated the teenager in exam room three. His mother, rattled by his accidental fall through a glass door, hovered on the verge of tears, while the young man watched in rapt attention as Savannah irrigated each cut.

  “I can’t feel any of that.” A wide grin creased his face. “That is so cool.”

  “Good.” She smiled at the glee in his just-deepening voice. His enthusiasm almost made up for the fact that the wounds hadn’t been irrigated before she came in to put in the stitches. She lifted his arm onto the table and adjusted a sterile drape over it, then moved the plastic tub of now-bloody water to the side table. “That means you’re ready for me to do my best work.”

  She lifted the pre-threaded suture needle, and his already antsy mother turned a paler shade of green. Savannah angled the light over his arm and started the first in a neat line of thirteen tiny sutures.

  She knew it was crazy, but she loved suturing. Not the fact that someone was hurting and needed stitches, but the rhythmic regularity of drawing the thread, tying it off, starting another stitch. The process provided a brief lull in the oft-times craziness of the ER.

  “Excuse me.” A brief knock on the open door drew her attention from the task. She glanced up at Layla Price, the PA on duty.

  “Yes?” Eyes on the needle and thread again, she tied off suture number six and began seven. She squinted at the rough edges of the boy’s skin. She wanted this to heal neatly, with minimal scarring to the area along his elbow.

  “Exam one is back from radiology.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be finished here in a few minutes.”

  “Did you irrigate that yourself?” Layla’s disdain drew Savannah’s attention. A scowl pulled the PA’s brows together.

  “I did.” Savannah didn’t bother to ad
d she’d be having a long talk with the charge nurse and her supervisor at Southwest Georgia Medical either. She and Layla had already discussed the lapses by an understaffed and overworked nursing crew. If SGM wanted a top-notch ER here, they had to staff it with top-notch, not bare minimum, numbers.

  “I can finish that if you need me to.”

  “That’s okay.” Savannah grinned at her teenage patient. “I’m showing our future military medic here how sutures should be done.”

  Minutes later, she stripped off her gloves and dropped them in the disposal unit. After answering his mom’s questions about wound care and securing a promise that her patient would be careful running in the house from now on, Savannah headed for exam one.

  Layla, scribbling discharge instructions on a chart, glanced up and tilted her head toward the waiting area. “The sheriff’s investigator is here on that, too.”

  “Thanks.” Savannah suppressed a shudder. Exam one was pushing all of her buttons today. With a quick review of the radiology notes, she carefully schooled her expression into cool professionalism before tapping once on the door. A low male voice bade her come in, and she pushed the heavy wooden slab inward. She put on a smile for the paramedic sitting on the end of the exam bed. “Good news. Radiology says nothing is broken.”

  “I could have told them that.” A wide grin creased his handsome face. He gestured at the ankle in question. Dirt and grass stained his uniform, but other than a couple of nasty scratches on his hands, he looked none the worse for wear. “It’s a sprain.”

  “Well, you’re going to stay off of it for a couple of days. With that swelling? Maybe three.”

  “I could wear an elastic bandage and work—”

  “You could wear an elastic bandage, stay off that foot, keep it elevated and occasionally iced down. Let’s make that three days for sure.” Savannah slashed the instructions across the bottom of his chart. “Maybe take some NSAIDs for the inflammation.”

  “Three days?”

  “You want it to heal so you can keep climbing in and out of the back of that bus?” She pinned him with a look. “Three days, then follow up with your primary physician.”

  He grimaced, but accepted the discharge sheet.

  She tilted her head toward the door. “The sheriff’s investigator is here if you’re ready to talk to him.”

  “Yeah.” He held his phone aloft. “He’s already been texting me, wondering how long this would take.”

  Savannah resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Men. “Okay, I’ll send him back, but seriously, take care of that ankle.”

  He sketched a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Smartass. The good medics always were.

  The memory of another smartass medic clenched her throat. God, she needed a minute. Outside the room, she dropped off the chart and stopped by the intake desk. “Hey, Lorraine, buzz the sheriff’s department guys in, would you?”

  Lorraine gestured and hit the buzzer. “Don’t know why they don’t just give them their own codes, as much time as they spend in this place.”

  Savannah ignored the grumbling. Lorraine was damn good at her job. Savannah could stomach a little bellyaching for that.

  The door swished open, and she frowned at the two men who entered.

  “Really, Rob, texting my patient while he’s in exam?” She shook her head at her brother-in-law, his investigator’s polo neatly tucked into pressed khaki slacks. Mr. Tall-and-Too-Bad-He-Was-Already-Taken accompanied him, making even brown-and-tan polyester look good.

  Rob shrugged, his smile holding no genuine apology. “We’re friends. We wanted to make sure he was okay.”

  “He says it’s only a sprain?” Real concern lurked in Troy Lee Farr’s vivid blue eyes.

  Savannah relented, relaxing her hardass exterior a tad. “It is. Give him a couple days off of it, and he’ll be running with you two again.”

  Rob snorted. “Clark does not run.”

  “I don’t keep up with your friends. That’s your wife’s job.” Savannah waved an airy hand. “Anyway, he’s all yours.”

  “Thanks.” Rob swept a narrow-eyed glance over her face. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She pretended to misunderstand his concern. Her lungs tightened, heat burning up her nape. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  He regarded her steadily, green eyes gentling. She didn’t shift under that serious gaze of his, under the sympathy that made her chest hurt and the memories surge to the surface. She was perfectly all right. This situation was nothing like that night, and she was nothing like the woman she’d been then, either. Sure, she was edgy, but she could blame that on Rob and his bringing up the past. She could be proud of how well she’d handled the whole incident today.

  She glowered at him. “Try not to tie up my exam room too long, would you?”

  He didn’t budge in their visual battle. “You should come over tonight.”

  Uh, no. He’d tell Amy she’d had a medic in the ER, then her little sister would be all soft sympathy and cloying concern. Everything Savannah didn’t need. “Can’t. I have a non-date with my neighbor.”

  One of Troy Lee’s eyebrows winged upward. “A non-date?”

  “Yes, kind of like a non-fat latte, meaning it doesn’t have any fat in it. We’re watching a movie.”

  Troy Lee and Rob exchanged a frown full of male confusion. Brow furrowed, Troy Lee tucked his thumbs in his gun belt, leather creaking. “So it’s a date, without any dating in it.”

  “Kind of.”

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  Which part didn’t he understand? And Rob said the guy was a rocket scientist. She decided to try speaking more slowly. “It means…we’re hanging out and watching a movie. No expectations, no entanglement…just a movie. A non-date.”

  “You can’t simply call it hanging out?”

  “Go talk to your buddy, would you? Find out what happened.”

  “We know what happened.” Rob shrugged. “Someone phoned in a bogus call on a throwaway cell and then shot at them. Clark tripped and sprained his ankle. Neither he nor Jim got a look at the guy.”

  “And you told him he couldn’t work for three days.” Troy Lee clicked his phone off. He slanted a glance at Rob. “How big an ass am I that I kinda, sorta wish they’d hit Jim? Not fatally, but…”

  “A major ass.” With one hand, Rob shoved him toward the exam room. He grinned at Savannah. “Jim is his wife’s ex.”

  Savannah shook her head. He was irrepressible. No wonder Amy adored him. “Go get your statement so I can have my exam room back.”

  The two walked away, and she expelled a slow breath. Okay, she’d actually handled the whole incident well, considering. Sure, she was edgy, but the panic hadn’t crowded in and the memories weren’t pressing down on her. Maybe she was finally on the way back to being whole again.

  * * * * *

  Emmett stared at the email on his phone, a blend of anxiety and excitement tightening his gut. He’d snagged an interview for the jail administrator’s job. In less than twenty-four hours. Maybe he had something to offer a department after all, even outside a patrol car.

  Shit, did he own any interview clothes anymore? His life before the shooting had been heavy on the casual side, and it wasn’t like he’d done a ton of shopping after. For a moment, he considered snapping photos of his closet and sending them to his sister because, hell, she’d always liked to dress him and he trusted her when it came to clothes. Except reaching out would be a waste of time. She’d only ignore him like she had for months.

  The doorbell pulled him from his musings. His gaze tracked to the time at the top of his phone screen. A little before seven. That had to be Savannah. He shoved the phone in his back pocket and went to the door.

  Sure enough, she awaited once he swung the door open. Slim jeans hugged her curves beneath a gray T-shirt something that molded her hips but breezed over the rest of her torso. The thin material clung to the line of her breasts, the rounded neckline revealing a h
int of cleavage. Effortlessly casual as ever, but man, she heated him up fast. “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself.” She held aloft a bright six-pack carton. “The local grocery had a special on microbrews. Thought we might add that beer we keep talking about to our pizza-and-a-movie non-date.”

  “Sounds like an excellent idea.” He stepped back and motioned her in. He caught a whiff of a flirty, feminine scent that popped off images in his brain of nuzzling between her generous breasts. “I haven’t ordered pizza yet. Maybe we should stick those in the fridge. What do you like on top?”

  She graced him with a wide smile. “That’s an intriguing question, but I assume you mean on the pizza?”

  “Yeah.” Although now all the intriguing possibilities pinged through his mind as well—Savannah above him, riding him, taking him deep on each stroke. He let out a shaky laugh and extended a hand. “Let me get those.”

  She passed over the carton, and he curled his fingers about hers a moment before using their shared hold on the cardboard to draw her to him. Her eyes on him, that smile still curving her full mouth, she stepped into his space and lifted her face to his. He brushed his lips across hers, savoring the pliable feel of her mouth under his.

  She rested a hand on his chest. “For the record, I like lots of things on top.”

  He pulled away, enjoying the mirth that sparkled in her brown eyes. “I can’t wait to find out.”

  “On pizza too.” She winked and released the beers to him. “Anything is fine, really, except mushrooms and anchovies.”

  “We are in agreement on that.” He carried the six-pack through to the small kitchen and stowed it in the fridge. “You know anything about interviews?”

  “I know sitting in on interview panels is the pits.” She leaned against the kitchen doorway. His gaze lingered over the curve of her hip. “Did you get a hit on one of the resumes you submitted?”

  “The jail administrator’s position. They want me to come in tomorrow. I got the email before you arrived.” He rubbed at his jaw. “Hell, Savannah, I don’t even know if I have the right clothes.”

  “Well, maybe we should figure that out.” Her husky laugh shimmered over him. “Show me to your closet.”