Melt With Me by Melissa Brown (With Me In Seattle Universe)
English | 2020 | Romance | ePUB | 2.8 MB
Maren Mercer does many things. She owns “The Lit Wick,” a successful book and candle shop in Seattle, she never misses a yoga class, and reads at least two books a week. Maren never thought, however, that she was capable of saving a life. But, that’s exactly what she does.
And it changes everything.
Peter McTavish expected many things as he rushed to the hospital to see his injured father. He expected bruises, IV bags and counsel from doctors. Peter, however, never expected Maren. But there she was—gorgeous, shaken and gently holding his father’s hand.
And she changes everything. Absolutely everything.
t was already a crazy Saturday morning when we heard the crash. That unmistakable screech of rubber against concrete, a loud thump and the gasps that followed as dozens of women outside my shop covered their mouths in disbelief.
“Oh my God, there’s a man on the ground and he’s not getting up!” a woman cried from the tail end of the line, and I knew I had to act.
I turned to the first woman in line. “Go inside and tell them to call 911. Now!”
Adrenaline shot through my stomach as I ran to the cab stopped in the middle of the road.
The driver, flustered and throwing his arms into the air, climbed out of the driver’s seat, yelling defensively, “He came out of nowhere. What the fuck?”
Ignoring the driver, I rounded the front end of the car to find a cracked windshield and a man with silver hair lying unconscious on the street. He was tall with very long legs and was wearing a button-down Oxford shirt and khaki pants. He was slumped over on his side, and my heart sank.
I crouched down to check his pulse and was relieved when I felt that familiar thump from his wrist.
“He’s alive,” I said to the driver, who sighed as he looked up at the sky.
“Thank God,” he muttered under his breath while doing the sign of the cross.
“Sir, can you hear me?” I asked, but there was no response. No moaning or movement, no sign of life other than the pulse I’d felt. Quickly, I rolled him to his back and leaned down to check his airways.
“He’s not breathing,” I said to myself, willing my racing brain to calm down enough to remember how to perform CPR.
“Shit,” the driver muttered. “What the fuck do we do?”
Turning to glare at him, I made sure we made direct eye contact. “You need to calm down. I can’t help him if you’re freaking out.”
Instead of responding, the driver threw his hands into the air again and took several steps away, fading into the forming crowd in the middle of the street. Chaos ensued around me as I did my best to focus on the last CPR workshop I’d attended before opening my store.