Sassy Southern Books: Chapter 1 for Notes & Roses (Stanford Creek #1) by Rozenn Scott

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Chapter 1 for Notes & Roses (Stanford Creek #1) by Rozenn Scott

hing?”

“SOP is not to go searching in drug addicts’ pockets,” Justin said with exaggerated patience.

“You think he’s a drug addict?”

The door chimed again, but it wasn’t the paramedic yet. Instead her business partner and cousin, Rachel, stood in the door, her jaw dropped and the cold of the rain blustering in behind her.

“Shut the door,” Justin and Megan said at the same time. Rachel closed the door with exaggerated care, and her expression didn’t change.

“Why is there a man lying on the floor of our shop?” she managed. Then she stepped closer, staring down at John Doe, and her eyebrows climbed before she paled and grabbed hold of the nearest display. “Shit, there’s so much blood. Is he dead?” Like he’d heard her speak, the man coughed and curled in on himself on one side, muttering something, and she stumbled backward with a yelp.

“He’s clearly not dead,” Justin said. “Drugs, head wound, we don’t know yet.” Then he spoke into his radio. “Dispatch, do we have an ETA on the paramedics?”

“Three minutes out.”

“10-4, dispatch.”

“Is he bleeding out?” Rachel asked, her hand on her chest and her skin pale. Megan frowned; they really should get Rachel out of here. She’d never liked blood, not since the incident where she’d broken her arm in kindergarten and the bone had pierced the skin.

“Not enough blood for that,” Justin said.

“Do we know who he is?” Rachel asked. “Should we check his wallet or something? He could be here with someone?” She glanced out the shop window as if expecting the man’s friends or family to be searching for him.

“I can’t look for his wallet yet,” Justin explained. “SOP with suspected addicts.”

“SOP?” Rachel half whispered as an aside.

“Standard operating procedure,” Megan whispered back. “The guy could have needles on him.”

“What about the recovery position?” Rachel pointed out. “Should we, at least, move him?”

Justin indicated the unconscious man with a wave of his hand. “Think he already did it himself.”

Then in silence they stood and waited for the paramedics to arrive, and all that time Megan stared down at the stranger, memorizing every bump and scratch on his face. What a waste. He could be so handsome, almost pretty, with those stunning sky eyes and the plump lips. He’d be a killer if he smiled, she thought.

“He doesn’t smell,” Rachel commented, even though she wrinkled her nose. She gestured at him. “And those jeans? They’re an expensive brand you know. So he’s probably not homeless.”

Megan didn’t feel much like discussing the unconscious man. She just wanted the help to get here soon.

The paramedics arrived and in a flurry of motion, they asked rapid questions of Megan, which she couldn’t answer in full. ‘Did he have a fit? Did he choke?’ She answered as best she could and hoped that was enough for them to have some idea what had happened. They checked John Doe’s vitals, hefted him onto a gurney, and left, all without the man regaining consciousness. Justin followed soon after, giving Megan a quick hug and extracting a promise from her to stay safe, and then it was Rachel and Megan alone in the shop.

Rachel looked anywhere except at the blood and Megan knew she had to get her out of the shop. “You go up to Carter’s and get some fresh coffee.”

“You need help,” Rachel began. She looked torn as she gestured at the floor.

“I’ll clear this up. Go.”

“What if someone else comes in?”

“Another vagrant covered in blood?” Megan smiled as she said it. She hoped she’d had her full quota of vagrants for this year.

“You never know,” Rachel said, frowning.

“Go.”

Rachel looked at the door and back at Megan, as if she were expecting another strange man to come in while she was out and was worried about leaving her. Megan went back to the small storage room at the back of the store. She pulled out the mop and bucket and the cleaning supplies and by the time she came back out Rachel had gone. She wasn’t surprised. Evidently alongside her phobia about blood, Rachel had analyzed the situation with her rational, logical approach and had decided Megan could manage another strange man collapsing on their floor if she had to. She cleaned up the smears of scarlet, the tracked in mud, and realigned all the notebooks and stationery on the knocked shelf. While she worked, all she could think was despite the shock and drama of what had happened, the man with the beautiful sapphire eyes hadn’t seemed dangerous to her.

Confused, high or drunk, desperate, traumatized, wet, and muddy, maybe. But certainly not dangerous.