Just One of the Guys by Kristan Higgins

Author:Kristan Higgins
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: American Light Romantic Fiction, Romance: Modern, Contemporary, General, Romance, Romance - Contemporary, Fiction, Fiction - Romance
ISBN: 9780373775149
Publisher: Harlequin Books
Published: 2010-08-15T07:00:00+00:00

“SO, RYAN, ARE YOU A YANKEES fan?” I ask an hour later. My gaze keeps flickering to the TV in the bar half of Emo’s, but alas, I can’t see the score. Damn.

“No,” he says, smiling pleasantly. “I don’t really watch sports.” Problem. “But my father has season tickets at Yankee Stadium.” Problem solved! “Maybe we can go sometime, since you’re obviously a fan.”

“I’d love to,” I murmur demurely, already mentally reviewing the home-game schedule.

We’re sitting at a prime table overlooking the street. Emo’s is packed, the food is lovely, and Ryan kissed me when I met him here and apologized for not being able to pick me up. He’s very polite.

“I really enjoyed the article,” Ryan says.

“Great! I’m glad you liked it,” I reply. The truth is, I’d kind of forgotten about that article, being preoccupied with the hacking incident. So far, nothing else has happened. But Ryan’s article was pleasant if I do say so…no mention of any groin injuries and a nice picture of Ryan in his (yum) karate uniform. “It’s gotten good reviews.”

“And it’s part of a series, correct?” he asks, taking a sip of his wine.

“That’s right. We’re doing firefighters next.”

“A predictable choice,” he murmurs.

My head jerks back a fraction. “Well, yes, I suppose you’re right, in the sense that everyone identifies firefighters as heroic.” I pause. Ryan doesn’t say anything, just smiles a little, encouraging me to continue. “After that, I’m doing a story on a pediatrician who goes to South America to treat kids down there. She goes every year. Maybe you know her, Dr. Whitman? Jeannie Whitman?”

“I don’t really deal with pediatricians unless I’m getting them up to speed on a trauma patient who happens to be a minor. Usually, though, we fly those patients to Children’s in Albany.”

“I see. Hey, you must run into my brother Jack from time to time. He’s a chopper paramedic. Jack O’Neill, tall, black hair, looks a lot like me…”

Ryan shakes his head. “Can’t say that it rings a bell.”

“Oh,” I say. Our dinners arrive, and we eat and smile at each other. I try to think of something witty to say. I come up empty. Probably, I’m just too used to being one of the guys. And of course, I’ve been avoiding the subject of his career, but I can’t dodge it forever. Finishing my wine, I decide to go for it.

“So, Ryan, tell me about your work. Did you always want to be a surgeon?”

“Trauma surgeon,” he corrects, leaning forward. “Yes, I did, Chastity. My father is also a surgeon, as I believe I told you, so I was lucky to have someone show me the ropes.”

“Is it hard—emotionally, I mean? Obviously, your patients are in pretty bad shape.”

“Emotionally, no, it’s not hard,” he replies, taking another bite of his salmon. “Obviously, there’s a high level of skill involved.” He smiles modestly. “The more common cases are splenectomies, damaged bowel from a GSW…gunshot wound, that is…oh, bleeding control, muscle repair. And of course—” he

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