Page 11 of Resorting to Love
“Acting never crossed my mind. I grew up wanting to be an astronaut. Totally obsessed with space. Typical boy with the galaxy wall mural and spaceship models everywhere. Realized in high school that I’d never have the grades to make it further than a space fantasy camp.”
She squeezes my hand, smiling at me with warmth that feels like a homecoming. “But you ended up among the stars another way. You’re mega-successful in a career millions of people aspire to do.”
“I got lucky. Right time, right place, right face. Success in my business has more to do with the stars aligning than skill. I appreciate every minute of every day, because I know it could all disappear in a blink.”
“That’s—”
“Somebody, help!” A high-pitched, feminine shriek from across the room cuts Chloe off, startling us from our private moment. “My husband… I think he’s having a heart attack!”
The volume of a hundred voices shoots up. Employees scurry in every direction, one of them hollering for somebody to get the resort’s doctor.
“He’s not here today!” another employee screeches. “Is anyone here a doctor?”
The thing I’ve feared since I took the role of Dr. Grayson Black happens—people look and point at me, desperate for real-life, emergency medical help I’m not able to give.
Chloe’s out of her seat before I can unknot my tongue. She shucks her sexy shoes, then races across the dining room. “I’m an ER nurse,” she assures the middle-aged man’s wife as she engages help to lay him on the floor. Then my beautiful date disappears from view as nearly every guest in the place leaves their seat.
I follow the pack’s lead, politely weaving my way through the crowd until I reach the front. I’m shoulder to shoulder with the wall of people surrounding Chloe, where she’s straddling the man’s chest. She’s small compared to him. But not weak. Fuck no.
Her silky red dress bunches at her hips. Her bare feet are flexed, bracing her in place. Muscles in her back and arms contract repeatedly as she performs chest compressions that seem to go on forever. Focused on her patient’s face, she calls to a nearby employee to check the unconscious man’s breathing.
“Nothing,” the waiter says, after dropping to the floor beside her.
“Keep checking,” she orders, not breaking her rhythm or pressure for even a split second.
I lose my sense of time, damn near lose my ability to breathe, as I watch the tiny powerhouse pour everything she has into saving a stranger’s life.
The man’s wife wails and sobs in the arms of another resort employee. “Don’t let him die! Don’t let him die!”
What the fuck—who says something like that? Chloe’s doing everything humanly possible, she doesn’t need that kind of pressure. And if this raving woman knew what Chloe has been through in her own life—fuck. It’s wrong to want to slap a woman, especially in a situation like this, but if I were close enough, I just might.
“I think he’s breathing!” the waiter on the floor yells at the same time sirens screech their approach. “He is! He’s breathing!”
Chloe leans forward, emotion flooding her face as she turns her ear to his mouth. She sits up, meets the wife’s gaze, and nods.
Cheering and clapping erupt, filling the dining room with noise that’d give a stadium full of fans a run for the money. The crowd parts for paramedics, and within minutes, the diners have returned to their tables, and the business of making other memories.
Not me. I follow Chloe as she walks out with the stretcher, providing the paramedics with a detailed play-by-play that doesn’t include the fact that she’s a fucking hero. Not even the slightest mention. It’s strictly medical jargon.
The weight of dozens of pairs of eyes hits when I enter the dining room, the attention disappearing equally as fast. They’re not interested in me anymore—they want Chloe. And I don’t blame them one damn bit. I want her too.
I’m only halfway to our table when the rumble of cheering fills the air. I turn and join in, clapping and whistling as everyone in the room rises to give Chloe a much-deserved standing ovation.
“Oh my God,” she says, grabbing at my hands after hurrying toward me with her head down. “Stop clapping, you’re encouraging people.”
Not only do I keep clapping, I raise my arms above my head and clap harder. “You just saved a man’s life. You deserve a parade.”
“I’m a nurse. It’s what I do.” She reaches up, snags my wrists and tugs. She’s fit and feisty, but it’s her eyes that hit me like kryptonite. “Please, Eli.”
I lower my arms and wrap them around her. She fits there as if we’re two pieces made to click together, and I swear, if I could hold her forever, I would. First things first, though.
“You’re amazing,” I say, dipping down to kiss her pretty lips. One touch, one taste, and I can’t keep it short or sweet. I pull her closer, run my hands up her back, into her hair. Slide my tongue along the seam of her lips, groaning when she opens for me.
A fresh round of applause starts up in the background, and Chloe breaks the kiss to tuck her head beneath my chin. “Would you mind if we go back to the cabin?”
“Anything you want, sweetheart,” I say, and fuck, do I mean it.
She nods against my chest, cuddling under my arm as I grab her shoes, then guide her from the building. The sun is on its way down, bathing the resort’s large front lawn in a golden-peachy glow that’s somewhere between daylight and nighttime. The kind of ambiance gaffers probably dream about.
