11
When Nate knocked on her door later that evening to pick her up, she was all ready to go. Hot shower, black coffee, and at least two gallons of water had done their job. Already in her parka, with an improvised medical bag containing antibiotics, thermometer and bandages slung over her shoulder, she stepped outside into a raw wind.
“Impressive recovery,” Nate told her as they walked to his truck.
“It’s practically a class in med school—how to jump into action at a second’s notice, no matter how crappy you feel.”
He opened the door of his truck for her, and as soon as he slid in next to her, immediately turned the heater to full blast. “It’s starting to feel like winter around here. I can feel the snow coming in my bones.”
“In your bones?”
“Yup. It’s kind of a sixth sense thing. Y
