She drew in a deep breath. God, she hated the smell of hospitals, the pungent antiseptics, the artificially-clean smell. The walls had been painted a colorless gray and had no pictures or posters to liven them up. And on top of that, the bright lights hurt her eyes. Everyone’s shoes squeaked on the tile floors.
She relaxed her shoulders and sank onto the mattress. Where in the hell was the doctor? A few stitches and she’d be as good as new. And as soon as she got back to her apartment, she was taking a nap.
Voices grew louder in the hall. One of them sounded like Butch. She was imagining things. Butch wouldn’t be here. She really must be tired if she was hearing his voice in the ER.
Footsteps squeaked on the tile floor and the chain rattled along the metal rod as someone opened the curtain. “Miss Rogers…”
Her eyes flew open. She hadn’t imagined that voice. Butch was standing in front of her, long hair pulled back from his face and beard trimmed short. He wore a bright blue scrub shirt and had a stethoscope slung around his neck. This was not happening.
He kept staring at her chart.
“… My name is Dr. Daniels and I’m—” At that point, he raised his head and his eyes landed on her. His mouth opened into an O and his eyebrows shot up. “Oh, my God, Carla.”
“It’s you.” Her head swam again, but for a completely different reason. “You’re a doctor?”
“I called you yesterday and left you a message.”
“You’re a doctor?” Didn’t she just ask that? Did he answer?
“Are you okay? You’re white as a sheet.”
“You’re a doctor?” Her brain would not function, couldn’t form any other words. She laid her head back, too heavy to hold up any longer. What was Butch doing here?
“We’ll talk about that later. There’s a lot to talk about. But for now, I’m going to check you out.”
His hand grabbed her wrist. Instead of pain, though, her skin prickled and jolts shot straight to her gut. Damn her body. She had built up a healthy anger, but when he touched her, all of that rage melted away. His fingers moved gently over her skin, much like the other night. He must have been trained to touch in a way that made her heart beat faster, and her entire body stand at attention. Why hadn’t he told her he was a doctor? Why had he let her believe he was a biker and photographer?
“Your pulse rate is elevated. Are you feeling light-headed?”
Of course her pulse raced. He was touching her, his warm fingers stroking her wrist. His soothing voice seeped deep into her soul. Maybe she could ask for another doctor.
She raised her head and opened her mouth. But no words came out. Hazel, worry-filled eyes stared back at her. His brows knitted his forehead.
“I’m a little dizzy. I had trouble standing after I cut my hand.” Wait a minute. What happened to asking for another doctor?
“That’s not uncommon. A lot of people faint at the sight of blood. Especially their own. I’m going to unwrap your hand now. This will probably hurt and you may feel dizzy again. Lay your head back and relax.”
She didn’t. Her eyes stayed locked on him as he gently unwrapped her hand and threw the bright red dressings aside. Her head swam but she didn’t look away. His hands stroked hers, prodding the skin around where she’d cut herself. His long fingers moved gracefully over her hand. Fingers that had caressed and stroked and… Damn, she was mad at him, wasn’t she?
“The pressure dressing stopped most of the bleeding. Good thing, too, or you would have lost a lot more blood. I’m afraid you might have sliced the tendon. I’m gonna page a surgeon to examine you.”
She didn’t answer, she couldn’t stop staring at his hands on her.
“Carla?”
“What? Oh, okay. Whatever you say.” When he touched her like that, he could say anything he wanted. As long as he didn’t let go.
He took a step toward the door.
“Wait, no.”
He raced back to her side. “What is it? Is something else wrong?”
Heat rose on her cheeks. She shouldn’t have yelled like that, but when he stopped touching her, her heart sank and her skin chilled. “I just didn’t want you to leave.”
He leaned closer. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to get the surgeon and I’ll be right back. We have a lot to talk about.”
He could say that again. Maybe while he was gone she could remember why she was mad at him.
Chapter Nine
BUTCH HURRIED TO the nurse’s station, his hands shaking as he paged the surgeon on call. So much had happened since he returned to town. He’d met Carla, made love to her, and then left her without so much a note. Now, after three brutal shifts, he found Carla in his emergency room. She had every right to be furious for how he left. There had been something else there, too. Anger swirled in her eyes, deep down, but what shone bright—fear, confusion, …and desire.
She deserved answers to her questions. Why had he misled her about being a doctor? For one night, he liked seeing himself through her eyes. Just Butch, photographer and motorcycle enthusiast. He wasn’t Dr. Daniels, the man who let a little girl die. The doctor who left parents without their only child.
Telling her meant exposing the demons he’d buried during his months away. She may run from him, but he had to take the risk for a chance to be with her.
“Dr. Daniels, are you alright?” a nurse asked him.
“What? Yeah, I’m okay. I paged Dr. Harvey. If you can send him to Exam Room Three when he arrives. I’ll be in there with the patient.”
The nurse raised her brows. Okay, so an attending ER doctor staying after the initial assessment was a bit unorthodox, but Carla was a special case. She was special to him.
When he returned to Carla’s room, her eyes were closed and her head tilted back. He studied her for a moment. Her pouty lips were parted slightly, begging him to brush his lips over them.
“I can feel you looking at me.” She didn’t open her eyes, but her words rang out clear and strong.
“The surgeon should be down in a few minutes. Can I get you anything?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What? That I’m a doctor?”
She still didn’t open her eyes. This conversation was too important to be held across the room. He slid a chair to the side of her bed. After he sat, he took her uninjured hand in both of his. “Carla, look at me.”
Her eyelids rose slowly and she turned her head. This close, the gold flecks in her green eyes reflected the light like they had when she’d locked her gaze on him while making love. “I want to explain everything to you. Unfortunately, the answer to that question isn’t simple. It’s the reason I left Oak Grove all those months ago.”
“Why did you leave the other night?”
She deserved an answer. An honest one. “I was scared.”
“Scared of what? Of me?”
“No. Not of you. Of us. I’d never experienced anything like being with you. I didn’t expect to meet you when I walked in the door the other night, and I certainly didn’t expect…”
She finished his sentence for him. “Us to hook up?”
“That was no hookup. That was… I don’t know what. You dug deep into my soul where I hide the worst parts of my life. I wasn’t prepared to handle that. So I took the easy way out… and I left.”
“You hurt me.”
He squeezed her hand. If only she could understand. “I’m sorry. You’ll never know how sorry. I want to explain everything to you, tell you about myself, learn everything about you. I…”
“Knock, knock.” A man’s voice said from behind him.
Carla snatched her hand away from Butch and plastered a smile on her face.
Ted Harvey approached Carla’s bed, expecting Butch to step aside. He didn’t. He had no intention of leaving her alone. If he had his choice… ever again.
“Hi, Carla. I’m Dr. Harvey.” He flashed her a huge smile. One that had charmed many a nurse at the hospital. Butch bris
tled. What in the hell was Ted doing flirting with Carla? His Carla. “I understand you sliced your finger. How’d you do that?”
Carla smiled at Ted, no sign of the anger she’d directed at Butch. “I’m a bartender and I was cutting up some fruit.”
“That sounds awful. Do you mind if I take a look?”
Carla extended her hand. Butch didn’t say a word, but he clenched his fists and squared his jaw the entire time Ted Harvey touched her.
He shifted her hand and studied the wound. She would probably have been okay if Butch had just stitched the wound, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
“Dr. Harvey… her wound? Are there deeper issues or will stitches be sufficient?”
Ted returned her hand to the mattress and gently patted it twice. “I don’t think there’s any tendon damage. But you did a number on your thumb. Let’s get you all stitched up. You’ll probably need to take a couple days off before you head back behind the bar.”
Carla smiled, the brightest smile she’d given since he walked into her room. “Thank you, Dr. Harvey. I really appreciate you checking me out.”
“It’s not a problem. I’m sure Dr. Daniels can handle stitching you up.”
“I can,” Butch said through gritted teeth.
“It was very nice to meet you, Miss Rogers.” Ted slid his business card onto the tray beside her bed. “If you have any problems, don’t hesitate to contact me.”
“I will.”
After throwing Butch a final glance, Ted left the room.
Butch busied himself grabbing supplies from the cabinet. He couldn’t very well stitch her up while he was angry. Snickering sounded behind him.
He raised his eyebrows. “Are you laughing at me?”
“A little.”
He pursed his lips but a smile snuck through. He couldn’t be angry, because Carla landing in the ER on his shift was the best thing to happen to him in a long time. So he refused to be angry at a little innocent flirting.
He settled the supplies on her bedside tray, palmed the good doctor’s card and slid it into his pocket. She wouldn’t be consulting anyone but Butch anytime soon.
He grabbed her hand “Ow.”
He reeled back. “Oh, God. I’m sorry.” For so many things. If only she’d give him a chance to explain his behavior and beg for her forgiveness.
Her fingers fiddled with the sheet.
What could he say to convince her he was sincere? “Carla, look at me.”
She raised her head.
“I promise to explain everything to you. Why I left town months ago, and why I left you the other night. Please, will you give me that chance?”
His heart raced as the question hung in the air. For a long time, she didn’t speak, her eyes fixed on his. She finally smirked at him and her eyes lit up. “I knew you were trouble the minute you walked in the door.”
His heart cheered. She wasn’t yelling or screaming. She didn’t even appear all that angry.
He numbed and stitched her hand, keeping the stitches small. There wouldn’t be any scars on her perfect body. If only all of his cases were as simple as hers. If only he never had to deal with… he shook his head. He couldn’t dwell on things he couldn’t change. That’s how he’d ended up here in the first place.
After cleaning up the supplies and signing off on Carla’s chart, he extended his hand and helped her to her feet. She wavered slightly but righted herself on the bed. She didn’t reach out to him. He itched to wrap his arm around her, to support her, but didn’t blame her for being cautious.
Her phone rang.
“Hey, Joey. Yes, I’m alright… just a few stitches… no, there’s no further damage.” Butch only heard her half of the conversation, but could imagine Joey’s concern on the other end of the line. “Hmm, I hadn’t thought of that since the ambulance brought me in… Yeah, that’ll be fine, I can wait.”
Butch grabbed the phone. “Hey Joey, it’s Butch Daniels. We met the other night.”
“What are you doing there with Carla?” Joey asked through the phone.
“It’s a long story. I’ll let her explain. But I’ve got her covered for a ride home.”
“What if I don’t want you to give me a ride home?” Carla stuck out her jaw and tried to look fierce. But she failed, the cute pout on her face betraying any false anger.
“Joey, can you hold on a sec.” He wasn’t about to let Carla get away before he could explain why he left and beg for another chance.
“I’m almost off shift. I can give you a ride home. And we can talk.”
She huffed and crossed her arms. Then her shoulders relaxed and her expression softened. “I guess that’ll be alright.”
He brought the phone back to his ear. “Joey, I’ve got her covered.”
“Good luck, man. Sounds like you’re gonna need it.” Joey laughed and hung up.
Baby steps. She agreed to let him take her home. Good enough for now.
“I need to sign off on some charts and I’ll be ready to go. As long as you don’t mind waiting a few minutes. You can lay back and rest while I finish up.”
“That’s fine.” She settled back on the bed and closed her eyes. He stared at her for another moment, stroked her arm, and then left the room.
HE MADE QUICK work of the charts and checked in with the nurses at the front desk. A few minutes later, he and Carla bundled up and hustled through the parking lot.
He motioned toward his black SUV parked in the doctor’s lot. “You didn’t ride your motorcycle today?”
Had she expected to climb on the back of his bike? “I don’t normally ride my motorcycle out in bad weather. I got caught the other night. Lucky for me.”
She chuckled and grimaced. “We’ll see.”
He slammed the door and rounded the front of the car.
“Is there anywhere we need to stop before I take you home?”
“No, I stocked up at the store yesterday.”
“Good.”
He got that she was mad. He didn’t blame her. He wouldn’t stop explaining himself until she’d forgiven him. But not while he was driving. He shot her a look across the car, but she stared out the window, her back to him.
She finally spoke as they arrived at J.J.’s “Pull around back. You can park next to my car.”
He did as she asked and helped her out of the car a moment later. He helped her across the parking lot.
The back door swung open.
“Hey Carla.” Joey smiled at Carla and then tightened his lips. “Butch.”
“Hey, Joey.” Butch was not surprised at Joey’s behavior. He’d shown his protective streak the other night, and again when he called her at the hospital. Butch would explain everything to Joey, but not until he talked to Carla first.
Joey studied Butch for a moment. “Thanks for bringing her home. Although I’m still not quite sure how you happened to be there.”
Carla stepped up beside Butch. “Meet Doctor Daniels.”
Joey’s eyebrows rose but he didn’t speak. Butch placed his hand on Carla’s lower back to escort her in. His touch was light but the heat of her body warmed his palm even through her coat.
Loud sounds echoed down the hall from the kitchen, clattering dishes and clanking pots. Orders were shouted in loud voices and laughter filled the room as the staff worked. How was Carla going to get any rest with all of that noise? His house was quieter and they could talk uninterrupted. But before he could suggest a change of venue, she had started up the stairs. He hustled behind her as she rounded the corner into her apartment.
While Carla bustled around the room, Butch stared at the couch where he and Carla had made love. Where he’d given himself to her, heart and soul. When he left that night, he hadn’t planned to come back. But he’d survived his shifts at the hospital and regained some of his confidence. He’d changed his mind about Carla, too, but he couldn’t make love to her again until he explained everything.
“Carla, please, sit down. You need to rest. You los
t a lot of blood today.”
She huffed but finally flopped down on the couch. “I’m used to being busy. I don’t know what to do with myself.”
He sat beside her and wrapped his hand around hers. She had her eyes closed and her head laid back on the cushion. He stroked his thumb over her knuckles, tracing the hills and valleys. Just a few minutes touching Carla calmed and soothed him. Maybe she was the salve to his pain he’d been looking for all long. Her skin was soft beneath his finger. Sounds from the restaurant downstairs drifted up. His stomach pinched. When was the last time he’d eaten?
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
If he could answer that question for himself, he wouldn’t be so screwed up.
“You led me to believe you were a photographer.”
“I am an amateur photographer. And that’s where my focus has been for the past few months, so I wasn’t thinking about my job. I seem to recall being distracted by a beautiful woman.”
“Did you really just get back to town?”
He nodded. “I didn’t lie to you. I won’t lie to you.” But he did withhold a big part of his life from her the other night. His reasons sounded trivial now, though.
“I’m having a hard time believing you right now.”
“Because I left?”
“Partly. You may not have technically lied, but I asked you what you did and you didn’t answer. Lying by omission is still lying. You let me go on and on about my history with bikers and my ex-boyfriend. I thought you were a biker.”
“I am. In my spare time, I’m a member of a motorcycle club and I take photos. And I am also a doctor.”
The words sounded tired when he’d said them.
“I can’t explain why I didn’t tell you. I liked the person you thought I was when you didn’t know me. When you thought I was a biker and a photographer. I wasn’t… I wasn’t…” He choked on the words, his heart raced, and his hands shook. For a quick moment, he was back there, in that room, pounding furiously on a little girl’s chest, begging her to breathe. To live.
Last Call_A Small-Town Romance Page 6