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The woman’s mouth opened and she shook her head. “You can’t! You’ve been in a crash…”
Olivia rolled her eyes, though it hurt like hell. “Three minutes,” she said again.
The woman turned and left, skirting around the man.
“That seemed a little harsh,” he said, leaning back against the doorjamb and cocking a cowboy boot against the wall. “She’s just trying to do her job.”
“No, she’s hovering and allowing a patient to control the interaction. Plus, she doesn’t appear to have the experience to be left alone.”
The man cocked a dark eyebrow, the smile still quirking his lips. “Actually, I know for a fact she has experience. Maybe the patient is a little tougher than what she’s used to.”
“Hm,” Olivia said, leaning her butt back against the mattress. “Perhaps.”
“Plus, they’re dealing with a bit of a shortage, right now, so she’s probably just worked a double shift. How are you doing?” the man asked, eyes going serious. “That was a hell of a goose egg on your head earlier.”
“I’m fine,” she said, despite the pain coursing through her body. Her ribs were killing her. She’d seen a giant bruise across her chest from the seatbelt earlier in the bathroom. “Light concussion, it feels like. Maybe a couple of bruised or cracked ribs.”
He grimaced in sympathy. “Both of which can hurt like hell. I know that for a fact.”
She made a face and gave a slight shrug. “Both of which there is no real treatment for other than rest and immobility.”
“True. You can’t do that here?”
Olivia glanced around the hospital room. It wasn’t bad, compared to some she’d seen. “No.”
It was one thing to work in a hospital, and something entirely different to be a patient. She needed to get out of here.
A tall man with dark auburn hair stepped into the room and moved toward the end of the bed where she was sitting. “I hear you’re ready to leave us, Ms. Grant.”
“I am,” she affirmed, bracing her hands on the mattress as the doctor moved in front of her. Using a penlight, he checked the reaction of her eyes. Then, making sure she was covered from the firefighter in the doorway, he checked the bruising on her ribs.
“Do you have somewhere to go?” he asked her, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest. “Because you need rest. And quiet. This isn’t just a little bump on the head. You were in a serious crash, and unfortunately, you’re not going to feel any better tomorrow. You’ll probably feel worse.”
“I am aware,” Olivia said, sighing, and avoiding answering the first question. “I’m not staying here.”
The doctor shook his head but signed off on her chart. “Find somewhere close and tuck in, then. I’ll write you a scrip for pain medicine and if you have any issues, you go to the nearest emergency room. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Olivia said, saluting smartly.
The man at the door smirked and looked at his big, booted feet. Olivia didn’t appreciate him being here, but in a few minutes it wouldn’t matter. She’d be gone and he could loiter in some other woman’s room.
She signed the forms and headed toward the door. No lie, if this wasn’t a hospital, she’d have no problem just curling up in a corner and sleeping. But she didn’t want to stay here.
The cute firefighter followed along behind her, not saying anything until she got to the front doors of the hospital. She knew she’d been outside of San Antonio, but she had no idea where she was right this minute. Pulling out her phone, she scanned the map of the surrounding area. Yep, about fifteen miles from San Antonio. Lockhart, Texas.
She searched for an Uber, and there were zero listings in her area. Figured. Glancing behind her, to the man waiting patiently, she sighed. “You knew I wasn’t going to find anything, didn’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said softly. “But I could see that you needed to be the one to look.”
Olivia sighed, hating being made the fool. “Okay, hero, you’re hanging around for a reason. Fill me in.”
He smiled somewhat sympathetically. “Well, your car was totaled at the scene. You’ll have to call your insurance company about that. I asked around and no one knew you, so we assume you’re a traveler. Are you coming in for the festival? We thought you might need a ride to your accommodation.”
“This place isn’t my destination. I was heading to a job down south.”
The big man blinked. “Oh, well then, you still need a ride to your accommodation,” he grinned. She didn’t miss the glint in his eyes at the word.
She hated that word. It made her think deficiency, or unable to do something, and it wasn’t even what he was talking about. The word grated on her nerves, though, because it had been given to her so many times. ‘Accommodation has been made for you here for the next three months’.
