Page 45 of Mountain Man’s Mystic Touch

“Is she all right?”

“She’s being evaluated. Please clear the entrance.”

Concern spreads across the woman’s face, but she steps back. One of my employees arrives before anyone else can enter. I instruct him to close the booth temporarily, secure the cash and merchandise, and notify me if anyone asks unusual questions.

Then the medic enters.

She kneels on Loralee’s opposite side and begins asking basic questions such as her name, location, date, pain, medical conditions. Loralee answers correctly, although irritation gradually replaces the dazed effect on her face. Strangely, I welcome her agitation as an improvement.

The medic checks her pulse and blood pressure, then asks whether she has eaten and had enough fluids. Loralee assures her she has. She describes the episode as an unusually intense intuitive vision accompanied by dizziness.

The medic glances at me. I keep my expression neutral.

After several minutes, she finds no sign of an immediate medical emergency. Loralee refuses transport and signs the appropriate form. The medic recommends rest, hydration, and follow-up care if the dizziness returns or any new symptoms develop.

“I can do all of that,” Loralee says.

“You’re not driving.”

The medic looks between us and packs away the blood-pressure cuff.

“I’ll make sure she gets somewhere safe,” I add.

Loralee waits until the woman leaves before turning toward me. “You made that sound like a professional security arrangement.”

“It is.”

“I have a place where I’m staying.”

“You’re not going there alone.”

“I rented it specifically for that purpose … to be alone.”

“You nearly blacked out.”

“I remained conscious.”

“Barely.”

Her chin lifts. Color has returned to her face, but her hands still tremble where they rest in her lap.

“Rocco, I appreciate your concern, but you do not get to relocate me because I experienced a vision.”

“I’m not relocating you because of the vision.”

“Good.”

“I’m relocating you because you cannot stand without assistance.”

Her eyes narrow. “I can stand.”

She places one hand on the counter and begins to rise. Her knees straighten, then weaken. I catch her beneath the arms.

Loralee closes her eyes against my chest. Neither of us comments. I move one arm around her waist and keep her upright. She is warm beneath the layers of her clothing but continues shivering.

“My command cabin is ten minutes away,” I say. “My team is based there. I can remain available to them, and you won’t be alone.”

“I have appointments.”