Sixth Sense

Charlotte

I have a sixth sense, always have, and all morning it’s been nagging the shit out of me. Something isn’t right, but that’s the sucky thing about a sixth sense, you never know exactly what it’s telling you.

I thanked Mitch for his “hospitality” when I left for class earlier and told him the exterminating was canceled due to lack of bugs. Stupid, I know, but it’s what came out of my mouth when I opened it to lie and it worked so, whatever.

Now I’m sitting in a boring lecture that I have no interest in, worrying about something that is nothing yet, because I don’t know what the hell I’m worrying about.

Maybe it’s just Beau’s text yesterday promising to come here and talk to me in person. Maybe it’s because I didn’t go home last night. I don’t like leaving my apartment sitting empty at night with all of my shady ass neighbors. Although I have to admit it was nice to sleep in peace and quiet for a change.

Half way through the monotone dull lecture I can’t stand it anymore and I gather my notes that I’m not taking anyway and leave.

It’s a beautiful spring day. The campus is alive and buzzing with activity as students walk to and from classes. There are the mothers pushing their little kids around in strollers providing them with spring’s much needed fresh air after a long cold winter. And the athletic types, that make me feel like shit for not working out regularly, are running all over the place being healthy.

All of this activity usually makes me smile because I don’t get out much and it’s my only glimpse into the real world. But today it’s agitating me to no end.

I need to go home. I don’t know why, but I do. I don’t have my car so I have to walk to a bus stop and wait. I don’t know the bus schedule for this time of day. I’m usually in class right now and should I want to leave, I have my car parked somewhere on the outskirts of campus so I can.

I hug my overnight bag to my chest and sway side to side at the bus stop waiting for the next pickup that will take me close to home, whenever that will be. Two busses have gone by that were going in the opposite direction of my apartment and I’m considering a very long walk home when another pulls up.

“Going anywhere near eleventh and Maple?” I ask the driver when he pushes open the doors.

“Yeah, hop in.” Yes, it’s about time.

I show him my bus pass and move to an empty seat half way back and sit down but that anxious feeling doesn’t fade. If anything it intensifies and I commence bouncing my knee up and down and biting my nails, which I haven’t done since the fourth grade.

This is ridiculous, I have three classes this morning and I’m going home because my sixth sense is making me jumpier than a virgin at a prison rodeo and that’s pretty damn jumpy. What am I doing? I’m going to get home and have to get in my car and come right back to school, this is crazy.

Fifteen minutes later I step off the bus, thank the driver and walk two blocks to my apartment. Everything looks fine outside and I curse my damn sixth sense for making me waste my time coming all the way home.

When I turn the corner and look down the hall to my apartment there are tons of white plastic grocery bags sitting outside my door. What the hell?

I hurry down the hall looking around to see if anybody is watching me. I really need groceries and I’m half tempted to take them inside knowing damn good and well that I didn’t order them but somebody did and deep down inside I’m not a thief.

I step over the bags and slide my key into the lock, turn it and bend to rummage around in the sacks for a receipt. Nothing. Is this why I’m home? My sixth sense sensed groceries at my door and wanted me to come home and nab them? Surly not.

With my back to the door I push it open with my ass, drop my backpack and my overnight bag just inside the door and start pulling the grocery sacks into my apartment. I’ll call the store and see who they were supposed to be delivered to, but in the meantime I think I should watch over them. And while I’m watching over them, as payment for being such an honest Joe, I’ll have a cookie or two, if there are any, god I hope there are.

When I’ve got everything inside, all nineteen bags, I close the door and turn around. I smell Beau’s musky masculine scent hanging heavy in the air before I see him. Then I spot him sleeping on my bed and gasp, not because he isn’t supposed to be here or because he is sleeping in my bed, but because he is covered in sweat and his coloring is bad. And I mean bad.

“Beau, Beau, can you hear me?” I say as I move to the side of the bed. When he doesn’t answer I sit down next to him and place my hand on his arm, he’s freezing. Oh my god, he’s diabetic and asleep and I have absolutely no food in my kitchen.

I come to this realization quicker than your average person due to my medical training as a veterinarian and for that I am thankful. I feel for a pulse, it’s weak and thready, and he is completely unresponsive.

My phone, I need my damn phone to call 911. It’s somewhere in one of my bags and time is of the utmost essence. Then I spot his phone in his hand and grab it dialing the three simple numbers with shaky fingers.

The operator says 911 what is your emergency and I rattle off a string of symptoms and give her my address telling her multiple times to hurry. I don’t have any idea how long he’s been here like this. God why didn’t I come home?

He really did come all the way to Iowa to talk to me, he wasn’t lying, and on top of all that I think he bought me groceries. The groceries, he didn’t answer the door when they were delivered and I happen to know that the store on the plastic bags doesn’t deliver until nine o’clock on weekdays. It’s ten thirty he’s been out for at least an hour and a half. Shit, that’s a long time, why didn’t he go get something to eat?

He knows better, he’s been a diabetic his entire life, he wears an insulin pump that tells him when his blood sugar is too low for Christ sake.

He didn’t want to miss me when I came home. Oh my god, this is so my fault.

I check his pulse, still slow, shit. I count his respirations, slow, shit, shit. I pat him on the face, “Beau, come on baby, please wake up,” I beg and pat him harder. Still nothing. If I could just get him awake for a minute I could get him to eat something that would help his blood sugar.

I drop to the floor and crawl to the groceries and search for juice in case he comes around. Four bags in I find a gallon of orange juice and jump up to grab a glass.

Back at his side I try again to rouse him with no success. His pump, I need to shut it off to keep any more insulin from going into his body. I lift his shirt up and search for the pump along the waist of his jeans. When I find it I set about figuring out how to shut it off and see just exactly how low his blood sugar is and it’s really fucking low.

Where the hell is the damn ambulance? I check Beau’s phone, it’s only been five minutes since I called. I look anxiously around the room for what I don’t know. I take care of animals not people and I’m always in a clinical setting where there are supplies and medications at my fingertips. I know what he needs, he needs an IV and sugar, an easy fix as far as saving lives goes but I don’t have the supplies to give it to him. But the paramedics will, if they ever fucking get here.

He’s so cold. I reach across my bed and flip the comforter from the side he isn’t laying on over him and lean in close to his face. “Beau, if you can hear me I want you to know I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I thought, I… I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, but I’m here now and I promise I won’t leave. The ambulance is on its way, you keep breathing damn it, if you don’t I’m going to be supremely pissed.”

My speech does nothing to wake him. I take ahold of his wrist and keep my fingers pressed there monitoring his pulse. There’s nothing I can do now but wait and watch what is left of his color drain out of his beautiful face. Tears burn in my eyes and I hold my breath every time his pulse slows further until finally I hear the ambulance sirens.

It’s about time. I get up and jump over the grocery bags to open the door and back to Beau’s side to take his hand. When the paramedics arrive they ask me a slew of questions that I don’t know the answers to. His birthday, height, weight, what our relationship is, what kind of diabetes he has. At least I knew that one.

One of the paramedics is a woman and Hispanic and hot in her jumpsuit uniform. You wouldn’t think anyone could look sexy in a one piece long sleeved polyester jump suit but she does. She keeps looking at Beau as she works and not in a professional way either. She’s checking him out, oh my fucking god. He could be dying and she is checking him out. What kind of paramedic is this? I’d give her the stink eye if she would stop looking at him for five seconds.

She clears the bags out of, what would be considered a foyer, if I had any other space in my apartment by tossing them haphazardly to both sides so she can maneuver a gurney into my tiny apartment.

I’m on my feet helping her move him off of the bed while the non ogling male paramedic looks for a place to put his IV.

“How long has he been unconscious?” the hottie Hispanic ogler asks.

“I don’t know, I wasn’t here, I didn’t come home last night.” Her eyebrows shoot up and I swear hope springs eternal on her face.

“I didn’t know he was coming, I mean, I did sort of, but I didn’t believe it and I needed space and…

Lame, lame, lame! Shut up Charlotte. Mom always said when you find yourself in a hole the best thing to do is stop digging, so I stop digging.

“Got it, open it all the way up,” says the mildly handsome male paramedic who is actually doing his job and not thinking about future dinner plans with the patient. He got the IV on the first try and I consider kissing him when glucose is flowing freely into Beau’s veins.

“All right, let’s role. Are you going to meet us at the hospital?” HHO asks. (Hottie Hispanic Ogler)

“Yes, I’ll follow you.”

“If you have his driver’s license and insurance card that would be helpful,” says PP. (Professional Paramedic)

“Um, they’re probably in his wallet in his back pocket. Oh, and he uses an insulin pump, I shut it off, his blood sugar was 20.”

“Okay, good to know,” PP says, as they maneuver around the tight corner to get Beau out of my apartment.

I grab my bag and follow them until we get to the parking lot where no less than ten people are standing around gawking. Beau is officially today’s entertainment; these people need to get a life.

My car is parked in the street with a ticket on the windshield. Somebody took my damn parking spot in the lot yesterday and I had to park there. One more thing I hate about living in the city. At home I could park wherever the hell I wanted to and never get a ticket. The wide-open plains of Montana are good for stuff like that.

I snatch the ticket out from under the wiper and unlock the door of my old-ish Ford Taurus and toss it into the back seat. The police will have to wait until I graduate to collect on that one.

The ambulance and I pull out into the street simultaneously and I follow them for twenty minutes to the hospital. After a long search for a parking spot and an even longer search for Beau in the ER I find him awake.

Relief spreads through me and tears well in my eyes. “You’re awake.”

He answers with a weak, “Yeah.” I move to his side and take his hand.

“You scared the hell outta me.”

His head lolls toward me and his eyes dart back and forth between mine like they are searching for something. “You’re talking to me.”

An explanation is what he’s looking for and I’m not sure I can give him one.

“I am.”

“Where were you?”

“I spent the night at a friend’s house.”

“I thought you didn’t have any friends here.”

“Well, I don’t really. Mitch used to be my tutor second semester.”

This perks him up and he squeezes my hand so tight it hurts. “Mitch? As in a guy?”

“Yes, but it’s not like that. I was trying not to be home last night and I didn’t want to pay for a hotel room. Mitch has a big house, I stayed in one of his guest rooms.”

“So, it’s not like that huh? Like I told you it wasn’t like that with Carmen?”

Crap, he’s got me there. Both situations look mighty suspicious but he used to sleep with Carmen. I wouldn’t sleep with Mitch if he were the last man on the planet earth.

“Why was she answering your phone?”

“I think I asked you a question first.”

I sigh. “What do you want me to say? It wasn’t like that, you want to call him and ask him?”

“Do you want to call and talk to Carmen?”

“Now look who’s answering a question with another question.”

“No, I don’t want to talk to your Mitch. Would you mind explaining why you haven’t been talking to me?”

“He’s not my Mitch, he’s just Mitch and I don’t have a good explanation. You never answered my question about Carmen either.”

“Carmen stopped by to stir up shit, I sent her packing and she didn’t like it when I told her about you. She jumped at the chance to answer my phone and mess with you because she’s a bitch. Now, your turn, I’ll take any explanation, good or bad.”

I look down at my pink Converse and consider telling him a lie. Lies usually slide from my lips without thinking but I don’t think I will like lying to Beau.

“Princess, talk to me, tell me what’s wrong. What’s got you spooked?”

I meet his eyes. A horse reference, great, he knows how to get to me.

“Stella saw us at the airport.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, and when I landed I had a ton of text messages from her telling me about your playboy, womanizing bad boy reputation. I got scared. I thought you were messing with me because you wanted to sleep with me.”

His eyes close and his jaw tightens.

“Beau? Don’t close your eyes please.”

He opens them and what I see there is utter disappointment.

“Your sister was right, sort of. I don’t consider myself a womanizer or a playboy because the women I get involved with know what’s up before we have sex. I make it very clear that it’s only physical and there will be no relationship after. A womanizer manipulates women and makes them think he’s into having a relationship so he can fuck them. He messes with their head. I’m honest, I don’t do that.”

“You never said anything about that to me.”

“Because you’re different. I enjoyed spending time with you. I wanted to know you, your dreams, your favorite things, and your opinions. I didn’t want it to be only physical with you, although the physical was pretty fucking hot.”

I can’t help but smile. He’s right it was pretty fucking hot.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shut you out. I should have talked to you but I didn’t figure you’d tell me the truth being a womanizing player and all ya know?”

He chuckles a low sexy chuckle and I have flashbacks of the two of us tangled in his bed after making love, laughing and sharing stories about growing up on a ranch. How did I ever doubt him?

“I see your point there and I’m glad we got that all cleared up.”

“Me too. Are you feeling better? You look better.” I cup my hand on his cheek and feel the heat coming off of his skin. “You were so cold, I couldn’t wake you.”

He reaches up and curls his fingers around my wrist moving my hand to his lips to kiss my knuckles. “Yes, I feel much better. You need food in your apartment.”

“I wasn’t expecting company.”

“What, you don’t eat?’

“I’m on a budget, poor college student remember?” I say pointing at myself.

“All you had to do was ask me for help.”

“I’m not in the habit of asking people for handouts, Beau.” I’m really not. I pinched every penny of my college fund until it bled and I worked for everything it didn’t cover. I didn’t want to be the spoiled rich brat I had been in high school.

“I’m not people, I’m your boyfriend and I like helping you. It makes me happy to make you happy. Get it?”

He’s my boyfriend? Did I just hear that right? “My boyfriend?”

“Hmm, yeah, your right, boyfriend sounds immature. How about I’m your manfriend?”

“Um…”

“Unless you have a different title in mind, either way it doesn’t matter to me.”

“Boyfriend is fine. Does Boyfriend mean monogamous?”

“Absolutely.” He nods his head firmly and I think the pop rocks are back in my tummy.

“You remember what monogamous means right?”

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, “Charlotte, I don’t want anybody but you, in any way, sexually or otherwise. Is that clear enough for you?”

Yes I think it is. Beau Hill wants a monogamous boyfriend/girlfriend relationship, where we are the only people sleeping and spending time with each other. I nod in agreement and the doctor enters the curtained area.

“Mr. Hill, how are you feeling?”

“Much better thanks Dr…” he looks at the physician’s name stitched on his white coat. “Dr. Kane.”

“Good, do you experience hypoglycemia often?”

“No, my diabetes is well controlled. I have been under a lot of extra stress lately and didn’t pay attention to the signs.”

Shit. That extra stress is me, he looked right at me when he said it. Great, now I feel even more responsible for his hypoglycemic episode.

“I’ll spare you the lecture. You’ve been dealing with this for a long time, I’m sure you already know what you need to do. I’m going to stop the glucose IV fluids and run a bag of Normal Saline into you to make sure you’re not dehydrated and let you go home. Don’t forget to turn your pump back on, your wife shut it off for you.”

“Oh, I’m not his wife.”

“She’s the girlfriend.”

“I see, well she very well may have saved your life, I think she’s a keeper,” Dr. Kane says.

“I think you’re right,” Beau says looking up at me with a seriousness in his eyes I’ve never seen before.

“Okay, great. I’ll send your nurse in to get those fluids switched over and you should be home in time for lunch.” Dr. Kane extends his hand to Beau. They shake and I notice Dr. Kane flinches. Beau doesn’t know his own strength sometimes.

“Sounds good, thanks again for fixin’ me up.”

“No problem.”

When he’s gone Beau pulls me down onto the bed next to him. “I’m a keeper huh?”

“You are most definitely a keeper, Princess.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“Princess?”

“Yes, Princess.”

His lips twitch in a suppressed smile and my curiosity grows tenfold.

“Beau, tell me.”

“Only if you let me buy you groceries until you graduate and a new mattress.”

“What’s with you and the bargaining? You do that a lot you know.”

“It’s how I guarantee we both get what we want.”

“What’s wrong with my mattress?”

His eyes open wide with shock, “What’s not wrong with your mattress? It’s horrible. I’m going to have to find a chiropractor in Redwater as soon as I get home.”

My mattress is soft but it’s not horrible. It does need replacing but I didn’t want to spend the money when I was going to go back to Montana. Now that I’m staying in Iowa I’ll have to add it to my list of things to take care of after graduation.

“Okay, you can buy me some groceries, since you already have, but I don’t need a new mattress. Now tell me why you call me Princess.”

“No deal, you take the food and the mattress or I keep my secret.”

He is impossible, I M P O S S I B L E. “Oh all right.”

“Oh all right what?”

I swat at his rock hard bicep, “All right I’ll take your stupid mattress, as long as it’s not too firm, and your groceries even though all that stuff you already bought me is going to last for weeks.”

“You’ll need to replace the milk and juice and things like that every week.”

“Shit.”

“What? You didn’t put that stuff in the refrigerator?”

I stand up straight and put my hands on my hips. “You were in a diabetic coma, Beau. No, I did not stop to put the groceries away, I was freaked out!”

“Then we will have to stop at the store on our way back to your place.”

“Beau,” I say through clenched teeth. “Tell me why you call me Princess, I’m starting to think it’s not flattering.”

His lips press together and his eyes twinkle with mischief.

“It’s not flattering is it?”

“It is now. You remind me of the color pink and pink reminds me of princesses.”

I narrow my eyes and look at him sideways, “What do you mean by it is now? And how do I remind you of pink?”

“Your mood is always light and happy and pleasant like pink. And…” He wrinkles up his nose before he continues. “When we were growing up I thought of you as the piggy princess, because your name is Charlotte and you live on a ranch like the story Charlotte’s Web and you acted like an entitled princess.”

“Piggy Princess? What the hell, Beau? That’s rude, and more than unflattering and, and, rude.”

“You said that.”

“Well it bears repeating. Rude.”

“We were kids. Princess means something totally different now and if you recall I said I called you piggy princess not Princess.” He is on the verge of bursting into laughter when the nurse comes in and changes his IV fluids.

I keep quiet while she’s in our curtain area. I’m not all that fired up to talk about my horrible nickname in front of a stranger. When she’s gone his body slowly starts shaking with laughter but I don’t think it’s funny.

“I don’t think I want that nickname anymore,” I say crossing my arms over my chest.

“Oh come on baby, you can’t denounce a nickname. It comes naturally to me. I call you Princess because you’re special like a princess and I want to worship my princess forever.”

Forever? Worship? Holy shit this guy is good. “Are you sure you’re not womanizing me? Because that sure sounded like womanizing.”

He reaches for me and I give him my hand. “I solemnly swear on anything you think is holy that I am not womanizing you. I have feelings for you and I don’t have feelings for women, ever.”

He has feelings, I have feelings, we need to discuss the fact that I accepted a job here in Iowa and our feelings are going to have to be long distance ones.

“Beau, I uh, I need to tell you something.”

His eyebrows knit together tight between his eyes. “That sounds ominous, I hate conversations that start like that. Do I have to know?”

I nod. “Okay, let’s have it then.”

“I took a job here as a full time vet in the animal clinic I work in.”

His frown deepens. “Why? No never mind I don’t want to know why. Tell them you changed your mind.”

“I can’t do that, it’s unprofessional and they never hire new grads, they made an exception for me because they think I do good work.”

“You can do that. Have you started the job?”

“No, but I already work there as a vet tech.”

“You already accepted a position on my ranch. How professional is it of you to leave me in the lurch by taking another job? I want you around Charlotte don’t get me wrong, I do.”

“But I also really need a vet. King has been acting funny lately and we have vaccinations to give and cows to calf. That job wasn’t a pity position or fluff work. I’m counting on you. Getting to watch your sexy ass work every day is a bonus sure but don’t get it twisted, I need you.”

He’s right, again and as usual. I did accept the job on his ranch first. He bargained for it but I could have said no and I didn’t. I don’t know how I’m going to tell my boss at the clinic that I had another job already. “Oh, Mr. Smith I’m going to have to turn down your position because I forgot I already have a job.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Okay? You’re going to honor your commitment at the Hill ranch?”

Wow, he’s really pulling out all the stops with the honor thy job commitment thing.

“Yes, I’ll honor our agreement.”

“Good, now as my employee your first act of business is to get over here and kiss me.”

“Am I going to have to kiss all the animals on the Hill ranch?”

He chuckles, “No, just me.”

“That’s a relief.”

He pulls me down and presses his forehead against mine. His hand covers mine and slips it under his t-shirt against his warm skin, moving it until it’s over his heart.

“This is yours now, you saved my life today, I owe you.” He presses on my hand and I feel his heart beating steadily under it.

Wow, this feels serious. I mean I felt like it was serious last week but this, this feels super serious. Should I say “Thanks” or “Okay” or “You don’t owe me anything, we’re good.”

I think I’ll go with “Okay.” He smiles when I respond and kisses me until I can’t see straight so “Okay” must have been okay.

“You ready to bust me out of this place?” he says with his lips still touching mine.

“Uh, huh.”

“Good, let’s go rent a room at a hotel.”

I jerk my head back, “What? I’m not wasting money on a hotel room when I live twenty minutes away.”

“No, you aren’t, I am. I want you to ride me all afternoon like the cowgirl you are and I’m not doing it in that lumpy ass excuse for a bed you have.”

I like the sound of that but he just spent the morning in the ER recovering from a diabetic coma. Having sex all afternoon might not be the best idea.

“Do you think that’s a good idea after all this? Maybe you should take it easy today.”

“That’s why you’re riding me. You’re going to be doing all the work.” He smiles a shit-eating grin and I have to say, this is one time I will not mind doing all the work.