by Mercer Scott
“You need to learn to watch where you’re going.” He bites the words out through lips pulled thin.
That’s when I see it – he’s not angry at all. He’s in pain. His lids are narrowed over his weird violet eyes, and his face is drawn in pain, not anger. Once I know he’s in pain, the outraged banshee in me gives way to the nurse. I can’t not help him. He’s hurt, and people in pain can lash out. Putting down the cupcakes and holding my hands up in the air to show him that I mean no harm, I slowly reach out and rest my hand on his forearm. His skin is hot to the touch. Another sign of pain. His body is working over-time at something.
Frowning with concern, I slide my fingers down to his wrist to check his pulse. His heart is racing, another sign of pain. “Where does it hurt?”
“I’m fine.” His voice is cold, and he speaks through the same thin lips, drawn tight in pain. Then he tries to pull his arm back from me.
I don’t let go.
“Look, I’m a nurse. And that means I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where it hurts and let me help you.”
He leans down towards me and says quietly right in my face, “I told you I’m fine.”
“Was that your attempt to intimidate me?” Leaning back to stare up at him, I cross my arms over my chest the way I’ve done a hundred times when dealing with a difficult patient. “Because it didn’t work. I work in the ER of San Francisco General Hospital, or I hope I still do, maybe I don’t? But I’ve seen things a hell of a lot scarier than you.”
This man isn’t scaring me away, and he’s definitely not scary to look at. Now that the adrenaline coursing through me has let up, I take my time to look at the rest of him. He’s tall and muscular, but not in an oversized, cartoonish way. His skin has that golden glow that everyone on Maui seems to have, even if right now there’s a slight paleness to his face. He’s definitely in pain, and I will be helping him – whether he likes it or not. Helping people is my job, or at least it used to be.
And even if we weren’t standing in the hallway of a veterans’ hospital, I would still know that he’s military. Something about the way that he stands with his feet planted hard on the ground like he’s ready for a fight gives him away. He’s definitely ready to fight me, that’s for sure.
And that face? He’s hot. This guy is super freaking hot. That face that could probably get me pregnant just by looking at me. What the hell? I’m not sure how long I’ve been staring up at him without saying anything, but it’s been an awkwardly long amount of time.
Swallowing, suddenly I feel like there’s no air in this hallway. When his scowl turns into a slow smile, I know that he’s onto me. He knows that I was checking him out.
He’s a smug asshole, just like Dr. Dick. Just like all men! Some small part of me wants to say that not all men are assholes, but I have no interest in hearing that right now. All men are most definitely assholes until I decide otherwise. And I don’t see that happening anytime soon.
“Like what you see, huh?”
Without thinking, my hand reaches out and grabs onto the skin of his bicep and twists hard, pinching him until he winces. Totally unprofessional, but also extremely satisfying.
“The only thing I see is a man in pain. I’m a nurse, and there’s no point trying to hide it. You must have hurt yourself when you ran into me. Now tell me where it hurts?” Frowning at him, I pretend to be the professional no-nonsense nurse that I usually am.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” It’s a fact.
“What are you going to do? Pelt me with cupcakes if I don’t cooperate?” He leans back, and a smile stretches across his face revealing perfectly straight, white teeth.
“Highly likely. I have nothing to lose at this point. So, I’m capable of anything,” I tell him threateningly. Or I hope it sounds threatening – and not horny. Oh crap, did it sound like I was coming on to him?
Suddenly, I remember where we are. Standing in the middle of a busy hallway in a veterans’ hospital. People are staring in annoyance and then walking around us.
“Come on, we’re in the way.” I tug on his arm and pull him to the edge of the hallway. “You might as well just let me check you out… I mean examine you. Because I’m not going anywhere until you let me help you.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m fine? You can check me out all you like, but you’re not examining me.” He lets out a sigh of frustration, but he follows me to the side of the hallway and cooperates as I gently push him down onto a chair. Now that he’s sitting and I’m at least an inch taller than him, I feel authoritative and in control.
“You’re not fine. We both know that you’re not fine. And no one was checking you out. We’re in a hospital full of doctors and nurses who I can call over to swarm you at any minute,” I threaten. “Or you can tell me what’s wrong and let me take a look.”
“And if I do, do you promise not to swarm me with medical professionals?”
“Absolutely not.”
“You’re not great at negotiating, are you?” He smiles up at me. The pain seems to be a bit better now, but there’s still a tinge of a wince in that smile.
Only idiots smile when they’re in pain. This idiot must think that he’s some kind of hero, and not someone who simply needs treatment. Why are men always so stupid about pain? Sometimes I think half the cases we get in the emergency room are just men who should have gone to see their doctors when they first started noticing symptoms. But no, they wait until it’s a crisis before admitting anything is wrong and end up needing emergency surgery. Selfish, just like Dr. Dick.
A microscopic part of me wonders if perhaps, possibly, maybe I might be somewhat over-generalizing just a bit? But I don’t care. Until further notice, I hate any and all men. Except maybe Deacon, but only because he’s Lara’s fiancé and they’re letting me stay with them knowing full-well that my visit doesn’t have an end date. But that’s it. I officially hate all other men. Well, maybe I don’t totally hate Ty. But only because he’s engaged to Veronica and he makes her so, so happy. Sickeningly happy. Disgustingly happy. So, I guess he gets a pass, too. But I absolutely hate all other men, including the annoyingly hot one currently wincing in pain on the chair in front of me as I press my hands against his side.
“Broken ribs.” It’s not a question. Very carefully, I move my fingers down his side.
He nods up at me, but doesn’t meet my eyes.
He’s wearing a thin, white t-shirt that says beach body on it. As I run my hand down his side, I can feel that his skin isn’t smooth. His whole left side has what feels like pretty significant scarring down it. We are in a veterans’ hospital, so it’s not too hard to figure out what happened to him. He must have been injured in combat.
When he shifts in the chair, he winces again. Wait long enough, and a patient will always tell you where it hurts. Even if they don’t mean to. It’s the leg. Or the hip maybe? That’s where he’s hurting the most.
Moving my hands slowly down his body, I examine his hip as best as I can over his jeans.
“Spread your legs.”
“Not even going to buy me dinner first, huh?” The lazy he gives me has probably melted a hundred hearts before I ever laid eyes on him. But my heart is ice cold now, and it melts for no man. I am immune to sexy smiles from gorgeous men.
“I want to see your hip rotation,” I tell him in my most no-nonsense nurse voice. “Your hip feels swollen, and you landed on it when you fell.”
“I don’t remember falling. I remember catching you and saving you from cracking your head open because you weren’t watching where you were going.”
“You’re the one who wasn’t watching where he was going.” Biting back the seven mean things I want to say to him, I let out a deep breath. “Let me check your hip. I think you might have hurt it when the linoleum floor came out of nowhere and attacked you.”
Another smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah, maybe that happened.”
“So then, let me ch
eck it… or else did you want me to call every doctor and nurse in the entire building?”
“Okay, okay.” He slowly slides his legs apart, and I step between them.
“When did you have hip surgery?”
“Six months ago.”
Glancing down at his face, I see him staring off down the hall. Fine by me, I don’t need him looking in my direction. After I make sure that he’s not mortally wounded, I’ll be on my way and will never see him again if I have anything to say about it.
Sliding my hand under his jeans to feel his hip bone, I rotate his leg from side to side. “Hip replacement?”
There’s a long pause. “Yeah, the orthopedic surgeon cobbled together what she could. Then she added a crap-load of steel to hold it all together.”
“From the range of motion you have, I can tell she did good work.”
Out of nowhere, he grins up at me. “You’ve demanded I spread my legs for you and basically gone to third base with me. Are you going to tell me your name?”
“I don’t see a need, to be honest. I’m not from around here. I’m not staying. And I’m not interested.”
His lips quirk at that before pulling into another wide smile. “Even if the explosion in a desert halfway around the world didn’t kill me, that rejection sure would have – if I was interested. I’m just asking for my lawyers. They’ll need a name for the wrongful injury lawsuit.”
Blanching, I stare down at him. Wrongful injury lawsuit? For accidentally walking into someone in a hallway? That’s the last thing I need on top of everything else. Losing my boyfriend, losing my job, and now probably losing my cat all in the span of a week. Because Meowriah Furré is the only thing I have left. At this point, they may as well just take her away from me and put me out of my misery!
“Hey, hey, hey.” He holds his hands like he’s surrendering to me. “It was just a joke. A bad one, I guess.”
“Threatening to sue people isn’t funny!” I tell him angrily. “Not ever.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“No, you didn’t! You literally did not use the word sorry once. Do any men actually know how to apologize?”
“Wow, I don’t think you can lump all men in with the cheating boyfriend.” He flashes me another smile. “And let’s make it official. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. And it’s none of your business who I lump in with anyone.” Shaking my head to clear it, I do my best to remain professional. “I think your hip is swollen from the fall. But you would be reacting more to my touch if any serious harm was done.”
“Where did you get the idea that I wasn’t reacting to your touch? Maybe not with pain… but in other ways.” He wriggles his eyebrows at me suggestively.
This isn’t my first time dealing with an inappropriate patient. The best strategy is just to ignore it, even if I have to bite back the smile. This jerk is kind of charming in that confident knows-he’s-good-looking-and-knows-you-know-it-too kind of way. Ugh! I don’t want to notice that he’s good looking. I don’t want to notice anything about him, unless it’s his medical status. Didn’t I just say that I hate all men?
“If I could see under your jeans, I’m sure that there’s some bruising to the hip. It should heal normally. But if it’s not getting better after a couple of days, or if there’s an increase in pain or persistent pain, you need to see a doctor.” I’m all business.
“If you want to see under my jeans, all you had to do was ask…” he says slowly, watching me to see how I react.
I react by not reacting. That’s the professional thing to do. I don’t know for sure that my nursing career is over yet. So, I need to stay professional on the slim chance that I still have a career to go back to. I already know I don’t have a life to go back to. My perfect life with my perfect doctor is long gone.
Leaning back in his metal chair, he looks up at me. “You never told me your name.”
“Because you don’t need to know it,” I remind him.
“I’m starting to think I do.” He gives me that lazy smile again.
Ugh! To have the confidence of a man! I would normally say a mediocre man, but after only a few minutes, I can already tell that there’s nothing mediocre about this guy.
Glancing over at the clock above the door that he must have walked out of before running me down in the hallway, I see that I’ve been in here over half an hour. Lara’s in the car waiting for me outside, and she’s going to be pissed. I was supposed to be dropping the cupcakes off and be back at the car in two minutes.
“I need to go.”
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
That’s when I hear it. The click-clack of Lara’s red-bottom heels walking down the hallway towards me ominously. Lara isn’t exactly known for making situations simpler or less awkward.
“There you are, Nat! How long does it take to drop off a dozen cupcakes?” she yells, as soon as she sees me.
“Friend of yours?” The man nods over at Lara as she heads toward us.
All I can do is nod. And inwardly cringe at the impending scene. And stare at Lara in her high-waisted, black, pencil skirt and blue silk tank top. Both are skin tight. Her heels are over five inches tall. Lara’s tiny, and she tries to make up for her short stature by wearing excessively high heels. I gave up on being jealous of my friends years ago, but it still kind of hurts to know that I’ll never be that put together. I’m definitely not right now in my casual sundress and sandals. The clothes I’m most comfortable in are my scrubs or a pair of jeans.
“Sorry! This poor injured, veteran fell down, and I was just helping him up onto his feet and making sure he was alright.” I wave a hand in the man sitting next to me, wishing that I could make him disappear with it.
“Poor, inured veteran, huh? He looks absolutely helpless.” Lara takes a long, appreciative look at the man from the top of his head all the way down to his toes. Then she holds her hand out to him. “Lara Daniels. And you are?”
There’s a long pause while Lara’s cocked eyebrow gets higher and higher and another lazy smile passes over the man’s face.
“Cooper Hamilton. Nice to meet you, Lara Daniels.” He takes Lara’s extended hand and shakes it slowly in his. Then he turns back to me. “And very nice to meet you… Nat, was it?”
He – Cooper – extends his hand out to me and something deep inside me tells me not to take it. It was one thing when he was steamrolling into me. It was another thing when I was examining him. I was just doing my job as any medical professional would.
But if his not-so-subtle come-ons before didn’t warn me before – and they did – the way he’s smiling at me now definitely would. Any woman under the age of eighty-five would have a hard time not being charmed by him. And I’m not interested in being charmed right now. Not by Cooper Hamilton. Not by any man.
“Nat’s short for Natalia,” Lara volunteers.
After glaring at Lara, I keep my hands at my sides until he drops his.
“Like I said, you seem fine. Go see your doctor if you still have any pain in a day or two. Let’s go, Lara. Now.”
Turning on my heel, I get halfway down the hall before I hear Lara’s impossibly high heels clacking after me. Realizing I still have a box of lightly smushed cupcakes in my hands, I shove them at a passing orderly. “Can you please take these to the nurse’s desk? Thank you so much.” Without waiting for a reply, I keep right on walking out the door.
Chapter Four
Natalia
“Who was that?” Lara demands as soon as we set foot outside the hospital. “He was sexy as fuck! And he seemed up for some revenge sex. Do you want me to go back and give him your number?”
“No. Of course, I don’t want you to go back and give him my number! No, thank you. Not now. Not ever.” I practically shout at her, not caring about the two men waiting for us standing outside the black Range Rover and hearing every word. Lara treats Deacon’s security team like furniture, but I can tell that she secretly likes them even if she do
es pretend not to know their names. What do I care if a sofa or armchair hears the details of my mortification? I don’t. I have nothing left to lose, and I definitely can’t sink any lower.
“I told you I’m done with men. All men. Forever,” I mutter back at her.
“Oh, please. You say that after every single break-up.” Lara rolls her eyes at me and slides through the door being held open by the tall one.
That’s what she calls them. The tall one and the short one. I cringe every single time she uses her nicknames for them, but I’m starting to think that whatever it used to be, it’s a term of endearment now. People fall into two classes for Lara. Family. And everyone else. She doesn’t give a crap about everyone else, but she’s the most loyal person I’ve ever met to anyone she considers family.
Right at this particular moment however, she is seriously pissing me off. Because she’s still lecturing me like she knows exactly how I should live my life. When exactly Lara became an authority on good life choices, I’m not exactly sure. But I guess she is the happy one marrying the billionaire philanthropist. And I’m the one getting cheated on by Dr. Dick. So, there’s that.
“…like I was saying – you always do this! You swear off men. It lasts for maybe three months, if you’re lucky! And then you fall in love all over again. When are you going to finally listen to me and take my advice already? Stop falling in love and start falling into bed! That guy was a perfect candidate for getting off and getting back at Dr. Dick. I’m going to go give him your number.” Lara starts sliding back out of the Range Rover to head back into the hospital.
“You will not! I will never speak to you ever again if you set one foot out of this car, do you hear me?” I shout at her. Then I turn to the short one. “Drive already! Drive!”
The short one doesn’t move a single muscle. Not that I should expect him to. These guys don’t do anything without Lara and Deacon’s explicit approval.