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“What you’re offering to pay me,” she states immediately.
I’m about to offer her more when she shocks the hell out of me. “If you offer me the job, I don’t want a single dime of it. I already expressed my feelings about this to Alice, but I want to make it clear to you. I want you to donate all the money you would have paid me to the fund the hospital established for victims of the shooting. They’re the only reason I’m even available to consider taking your offer.”
“That’s . . .” Words fail me.
She quirks a perfectly groomed brow.
“Incredibly generous,” I conclude. Truthfully, what I’m feeling is astounded.
“I’m blessed enough I can afford to be. There are people who are struggling ...” She swallows and disengages eye contact with me.
“Struggling,” I prompt when her voice drops off.
When she reengages, her eyes are like waves as the moisture in them swims but never falls. “To pay for funerals. For home payments. The salary you’re offering me would be a boon to relieve them of these concerns. If you decide to take me on, it’s not because I need money.”
I link my fingers together over my stomach. “Then what do you want from this job?”
Laura gently reminds me, “Temporary assignment. I do have a permanent position to return to eventually.”
“Fine. What do you want, if not a paycheck?”
She hesitates before replying softly, “For once, I want to focus on the good of one patient. This one time, I think that may be just as critical as focusing on the good of the many.”
“Some would say you have that backward,” I counter.
“Some would. Not me. I need to know I won’t fall down on the job.” Vulnerability flickers in her eyes even as her chin lifts. “To that end, if you choose to hire me, I’d recommend a probationary period before you transition Bailey’s care to me full time.”
Despite the fact that her words depict uncertainty in her own skills, in my eyes, Laura is already proving Keene right. She’s more than ready to return to the ER. But if she wants to spend the summer shoring up her patient care techniques, I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Standing, I plant my feet apart to brace myself for the shock of touching her again. Offering my hand, I ask, “Are you interested in the position? If so, I’d like for you to meet Bailey.”
Laura stands. Hesitating a fraction of a heartbeat, she takes my hand. Our fingers clasp tightly. If I thought knowing what it would be like to touch her would make it less electrifying, I was wrong.
So wrong.
I don’t know what the fuck to do about it except ignore it.
Especially if the esteemed Dr. Laura Lockwood and my daughter get along well enough for her to accept the offer to become my daughter’s temporary nanny while recovering from her own mental tailspin.
Chapter
Twelve
Grateful I agreed to a car and driver, I roll up the partition between us before placing a call to the home I share with my cousins Kalie and Grace.
Grace answers, “What’s chilling?”
“Hopefully the vodka?”
“It’s eleven-thirty in the morning,” she reprimands.
“If I’m not mistaken, I just agreed to take on the responsibility for my first patient since the shooting,” I declare bluntly.
I must be on speaker because Kalie groans. “In other words, your need for alcohol is imminent.”
Grace interjects. “Fine. But let’s try to have a little class. Screwdrivers?”
“Deal. I’ll be home in about twenty. Get the vodka chilling.” I disconnect the call and focus on the trees flying by in a whiz alongside the highway and the blur of cars passing in the mid-morning traffic.