Saving Allegheny Green by Lori Wilde Read Free Book Online Page B

baby play on the highway.”
    She snorted. “And your sister. Why doesn’t that girl get a steady job and take care of her own son? Why do you have to be Denny’s surrogate mother?”
    “I love taking care of Denny,” I protested.
    “You should have a child of your own. A man of your own. A life of your own.”
    “I have a life.”
    “Oh, yeah? Never mind a boyfriend, when was the last time you even went out on a date.”
    “I don’t need a man to complete me.”
    “You’re not going to tell me that you believe in that stupid feminist slogan—a woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle? What’s that supposed to mean anyway?” Rhonda frowned and examined her nails with narrowed eyes.
    “It’s true. I have no need for a man.”
    Rhonda stuck her leg out at me. “Come on, pull the other one. Every woman needs a man. Unless of course she prefers another woman.”
    She was trying to get my goat and I knew it. I closed my eyes and battled the heat rising to my cheeks. “I have physical needs. Just like anybody else. But I know how to control myself.”
    “There’s a fine line between self-control and shutting yourself off to your sexuality.”
    Rhonda didn’t know what she was talking about. I had feelings. Lots of them. Thinking about Sheriff Conahegg brought a warm tingly sensation into the center of my body. An unwanted sensation.
    Without warning my mind flashed to a startlingly clear image of Conahegg. Strong, dimpled chin. Sharp, intelligent eyes that missed nothing. Hard, honed body.
    Electric shivers spiked my spine.
    “Besides,” I croaked, fighting to deny what was happening inside me. “Sex is overrated.”
    “You’ve never had an orgasm, have you?” Rhonda taunted.
    “Shut up.”
    “You haven’t! Oh my God, Ally. I had no idea. I’m so sorry.” She got up and threw her arms around my neck, careful to keep her nails splayed outward.
    I backed away, eager to extricate myself. “Please, it’s no big deal.”
    “No big deal?” Rhonda was shaking her head and damned if she didn’t have tears in her eyes. “You poor thing. I had no idea.”
    “Stop it.” I didn’t want her pity.
    “You’ve got to quit substituting your family for a real life before it’s too late. You’re thirty-one and not getting any younger.”
    Thankfully, the clock chose that moment to strike eleven.
    “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I sprinted for the door. I had to get out of here. Away from talk of Conahegg. Away from Rhonda and the overwhelming sympathy in her eyes.
    O N T UESDAY MORNING , three days after Sissy shot Rocky, Joyce Kemper, the director of Cloverleaf Home Health Care, handed me two manila folders. “Here’s your new cases. The first one is a knee laceration. You’re to give IV penicillin for five days. The other patient is a twenty-seven-year-old male with GSW to the foot. Administer IV vancomycin once a week for four weeks and dress the wound thrice weekly.”
    GSW. Gun shot wound. My heart sank. Cloverleaf wasn’t a big place. We probably didn’t average one gunshot wound to the foot a decade.
    I opened the top file and stared down at the name. My worst fears confirmed.
    Rockerfeller Hughes.
    “I can’t take the case.” I handed the file back to Joyce.
    “What do you mean?” She stared at me blankly. In the five years I’d worked for Joyce I’d never refused a case.
    “I know the man,” I explained.
    “Is he a relative?”
    “No, but he’s my sister’s boyfriend.”
    “So?” She pushed the file at me.
    “Sissy is the one who shot him in the foot. It would be a conflict of interest for me to take care of him.”
    “You didn’t shoot him. What’s the conflict?”
    “Come on, Joyce, have a heart.”
    “Ally, there’s no one else to send. Yvette’s swamped. She’s got twenty-five patients to see this week. You only have sixteen. Marcie’s out on maternity leave and Kayla’s on vacation. You lose by default.”
    “You could do it,” I pointed out.
    Joyce