Page 135 of The Doctors Will See You Now

“Because they’re a big deal,” she hedged. Thanks to the head injury, she was careful with any expressive use of her eyebrows, but I could tell the restraint took effort. I’d never seen it done, but uninhibited, I was convinced her eyebrows would be able to contort themselves into an illustration of the middle finger.

“Only sometimes,” I argued easily.

The patient’s medical file that Deb had so gently shoved into my chest felt like it would slow the conversation down, so I did the Cliff Notes version of surveying any important, life threatening information and tossed it to the side and grabbed a syringe and suture kit. With a quick and gloved hand, I pricked the area with a fast-acting dose of numbing agent and gave it a few seconds to take effect.

“I’m really starting to dislike you.”

“Only starting?” I asked with a mocking smirk. “I haven’t liked you yet.”

“I was being polite.”

I laughed, poking at the area a couple of times to test her level of feeling. She didn’t even flinch, so I grabbed my needle and thread and got to work. “Really? This is you polite?”

“Is this you professional?”

I shook my head with a frown. “Professional is such a dirty word. Stuffy and boring. Who the hell wants to be professional?”

“Most physicians.”

I pretended to yawn. “Bor-ing.”

Her eyes lit suddenly, the way they always did when people realized who I was. For the first time, maybe ever, something panged in my chest that wasn’t excitement.

“Ohh. You’re—”

“Scott Shepard,” I finished for her, looping through the skin once, and then again.

Her eyes narrowed, but she smirked at the same time. The skin I was working on shifted slightly, but she showed no signs of discomfort. “Right. Dr. Scott Shepard.”

“That’s me,” I agreed with a smile. “And you are?”

She rolled her eyes. “The lady with the head wound.”

“You know it says your name in your chart, right? All I have to do is look at it.” I’d given it a glance to assure myself that she had no allergies or serious medical history just before giving her the dose of numbing agent, but now, a more thorough perusal seemed pertinent.

“Yeah, but what fun is that, Dr. Shepard?”

“Fine,” I agreed. “What should I call you, then?”

“How about Bleeding Woman Thanks to Horrible Sex with a Guy with a Fancy Name?”

I laughed a little before clearing my throat and wincing. “Well, it’s a little long. But I guess I can work with it. I would love to know how someone gets a head lac from horrible sex. It sounds like a really nice story.”

“Sorry. It’s an awful story that I’ll never relive. Not even for your amusement.”

“Geez. Fine. It’s like you want me to sew this up and leave you alone or something.”

She smiled, and it consumed her entire face. So much so, I thought the corners of her mouth might loop all the way around to form a circle. “That would be nice.”

I laughed again, completely smitten.

Jesus. I hadn’t had this much fun talking to a woman in a long time. Hell, I hadn’t even spoken this much to a woman in a long time. Usually, we exchanged several heys and then went straight to making out. Not entirely flawed when your goals were what mine were—a night of fun and fucking—but not exactly mentally stimulating either.

“Well, you’re in luck,” I told her as I tied the last stitch and clipped off the excess. “You’re all set.”

I, however, wasn’t feeling that lucky at all. I didn’t want to be done working on her yet. Too bad I hadn’t thought to stretch it out a little bit. Her conversation was too engaging to leave brainpower for scheming.

“Great!” she chirped, sitting up in a hurry and swinging her legs around and off the side of the bed.