Page 23 of Rescuing Dr. Marian (Made Marian Legacy #1)

TOMMY

The adrenaline from the morning’s drill was still humming through my veins as I watched my team head to the dining room, their faces flushed with the kind of satisfaction that only came from nailing something difficult.

Sierra was practically glowing as she recounted her triage decisions to the others.

And even Omar, who’d initially been skeptical about SERA’s requirement that all students participate in a medical training rotation since he was eager to get to practice “real SAR stuff,” was asking thoughtful questions about medication protocols in wilderness settings.

“Dr. Marian,” Cody said as he stopped by the door to the dining hall and held it open for me to pass, “that was fucking awesome. I have first aid training and some field experience, but this was next-level. How do I get more training like this after SERA?”

Familiar warmth spread through my chest—the same feeling I used to get during my wilderness medicine rotation in residency, before staffing nightmares and endless paperwork had slowly leached the joy out of practicing medicine.

“There are other programs, including the advanced level one here at SERA,” I said.

“But honestly? The best training is exactly what you’re doing now.

Get out here, make mistakes, learn from them.

Medicine in the field isn’t about having the perfect equipment or the latest protocols.

It’s about adapting and trusting your instincts. ”

As I said it, I realized how true it felt. How right it felt to be standing here in pine-scented air, my hands still steady from the morning’s challenges, surrounded by students who were hungry to learn not just the mechanics of emergency medicine but the art of it.

When was the last time I’d felt this energized after a shift? When was the last time I’d looked forward to the next challenge instead of dreading another twelve hours of controlled chaos and electronic medical records?

“You look happy,” Robyn observed, falling into step beside me as we headed through the dining room toward her office.

“Just thinking,” I said. “About how different this feels from hospital work.”

“Good different or bad different?”

“Good different,” I said. “Very good.”

“Excellent!” Robyn said with cheerleader-like enthusiasm. “That’s wonderful to hear.”

As we entered her office, she turned to face me. The fake blood from the training exercise was smeared on her torn shirt, making a funny contrast with her signature friendly smile .

“On that topic, I wanted to let you know your medical licensing came in.” She rocked back and forth on her boots. “You’re licensed to practice in the state of Montana. Isn’t that great?”

I blinked at her. This was good news, but hardly a surprise. “Uh, yeah. Great.”

“This means you can practice here!”

“I… yeah, I got that. Trace wanted me to get licensed if I could, and reciprocal licensing was pretty quick and straightforward.”

She propped her hip on her desk. “I think he was hoping to convince you to stay on permanently.”

I laughed. “He mentioned that. But he also knows I’m interviewing for a position in California, near my family. Besides,” I said, trying to keep it light, “he can’t afford me.”

She smiled up at me, eyes bright. “Just think about it, okay? I’m sure he’d make as strong of an offer as possible.”

“I appreciate that, Robyn. I really do. But I’m an ER doc. I can’t turn down the opportunity to work at a world-renowned teaching hospital.”

Her smile faltered, but she nodded. “I understand. Worth a shot.”

I reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “I really appreciate it. It’s nice to know I’m doing well enough for you not to want to boot me out.”

She laughed and gave me a quick hug. “We just think the world of you, Tommy.”

I pulled away awkwardly with a mumbled thanks and turned to head back to the dining room. Foster had just passed the office on his way to the men’s room, so I followed him there instead.

As soon as the door closed behind me, I glanced under the stalls to make sure we were the only ones in there.

“You get what you need in there?” Foster asked, keeping his eye on the urinal as he reached for his fly.

I kicked a nearby rubber wedge under the door so no one could open it, and then I walked up behind him and crowded him against the urinal. “Not one single bit,” I said in a low voice.

“Mpfh. Looked plenty friendly to me,” he grumbled. “Back off. I can’t do this with you watching.”

I eased off but pressed my forehead to the center of his back, just above his shoulder blades. “Good drill this morning.”

“Yep.”

“Is it wrong to wish the workday came with a sex break?” I asked softly, just in case someone was near enough to hear me.

He finished up and moved to the sink, gently dislodging me by rolling his shoulder. “I could go for it. Maybe we should form a union and make some demands.”

I met his eye in the mirror and was happy to see his eyes sparkling with humor. I took his place at the urinal and opened my pants, trying to hurry now in case someone else needed to use the bathroom.

Foster yanked out a couple of paper towels and turned to face me as he dried his hands. I tried to stay relaxed.

“What did Rainbow Brite want with you?”

Was it my imagination, or was there a tinge of jealousy coming from the big guy?

“Hmm. Take a guess.” I finished and refastened my pants before moving to the sink. This time, Foster crowded up against my back, his arms snaking around my front and his hot lips landing on my neck.

“I’m thinking she wants to join your union,” he grumbled. The sound was low near my ear, enough to make the hairs stand on end all over my arms and legs.

I shuddered. “No. Just wanted to tell me my licensure came through. Now maybe I won’t get arrested for playing doctor.”

His big hand moved down over my fly and pressed my cock. “Mmm, arresting someone for playing doctor… I knew I became a sheriff for a reason.”

I finished washing my hands and dried them as quickly as possible.

And if there were wet handprints on Foster Blake’s clothes when we returned to the dining room, it was nobody’s business where they came from.

After lunch, Robyn appeared with a mischievous glint in her eye that usually meant “a super-fun activity” for someone. This time, apparently, that someone was all of us.

“Alright, listen up,” she announced, clipboard in hand.

“We’re doing something a little different this afternoon.

Since you’ll all be moving to your new rotations tomorrow, Trace and I put together a friendly team-building competition.

Winner gets first pick at tonight’s s’mores supplies.

I’ll tell you more when we get to the trailhead. ”

Once we were there, she waved us over to a couple of nearby picnic tables, where she placed a brown paper bag on the center table.

“We’re dividing up into two teams, on the hunt for a missing person.

The twist is that your instructors will be equal members of the team, if they’re up for it.

You can use them as resources however you want.

Each team will get a fabricated patient history, recent medical records, a medication list, terrain maps, weather data, and witness statements.

First team to locate and properly assess the victim without additional evidence wins. ”

Everyone chattered with excitement as she explained that the instructors had already been divided up, but the students would be drawing numbers to see who was on which team for the game.

I felt a competitive spark ignite in my chest. It had been years since I’d been a true member of a SAR team, so I relished the chance to play. Problem-solving under pressure, medical deduction, teamwork—all the things that had drawn me to emergency medicine in the first place.

“Dr. Marian,” Cody said, grinning widely, “I got Yellow Team. Please tell me you’re in.”

“I am.” I pulled on the yellow buff Robyn handed me and glanced across the field where Foster—in a blue buff—stood with his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in what looked suspiciously like a challenge. When our eyes met, his mouth curved into that slow, devastating smile that made my pulse spike.

“Game on, Sheriff,” I called, earning whoops of approval from my team .

Foster’s answering grin was sharp as a blade. “Hope you’re ready to lose, Doc.”

The next hour unfolded like the world’s most entertaining puzzle.

Yellow Team—which comprised me, Tevita, Gus, and our students—huddled around a picnic table, mostly focusing on the fabricated medical records Robyn had provided.

Our missing person was a fifty-three-year-old male with a history of diabetes, recent knee surgery, and a prescription for pain medication that could cause disorientation.

“Look at this,” Sierra said, pointing to the medication list. “Oxycodone prescribed three days ago, but the bottle’s nearly empty. Either he’s not following dosing instructions, or…”

“Or he’s having breakthrough pain that’s affecting his judgment,” I finished. “Good call. Someone in that much discomfort isn’t going to be thinking clearly about navigation.”

Meanwhile, I could see Foster’s team poring over topographic maps, Marcus tracing elevation lines with his finger while Jenna studied weather pattern reports from the past twenty-four hours.

“The witness statement says he was headed for Miller’s Point,” Marcus was saying, voice carrying across the meadow. “But look at this terrain. If he was disoriented, he could have easily taken the wrong fork at Cascade Junction.”

“And if he did,” Foster added, “he’d end up in Willow Basin instead. Classic mistake for someone not thinking clearly.”

I felt a thrill of professional appreciation watching him work. Foster’s tactical mind was impressive—the way he could read terrain like a story, predict human behavior under stress, see patterns that others missed .

“Dr. Marian?” Sierra’s voice pulled me back to our own strategizing. “Earth to Tommy?”