Plain Jane and the Bad Boy (Plain Jane Series)
Page 28
Interesting choice of words. “Shouldn’t that be do your best?”
He shrugged one shoulder as his expression turned flat. “Only the end product will show the results.”
Arrogance wasn’t a trait she found attractive in anyone, especially him. She should jab the needle into his body and watch how long his bored expression lasted.
The malicious and unprofessional thought wasn’t like her and on a certain level, disturbed her. Gently, she gave him another dose of Lido and grabbed a hemostat to separate his flesh, allowing a peek inside the wound. “Approximately two inches deep.” She mopped up the blood pooling in the opening. “I don’t see any broken pieces.” Quickly, she gave him four stitches inside the wound and three outside. She completed the process with an alcohol swab to clean the surface, gauze, and a waterproof bandage.
He studied her handiwork. “You’re good at this.”
She took issue at the surprise in his voice. “I’m not the janitor. I’m a registered nurse.” It wasn’t entirely true. When necessary, she grabbed a mop and did the floors. This was an all hands-on deck job.
Kensley jabbed the penicillin deep into his upper thigh. He winced. She enjoyed it and immediately felt guilty. “I’ll be back.” She disposed of the kit and all the instruments and returned with the tetanus shot.
Noah was sitting up, his bum leg stretched out at an angle while he leaned to the side, looking like he owned the world. She hated men like that; the super confident, my shit never stunk, in fact, he never needed to shit, fart, piss, pick a booger out of his nose.
She held up the needle and syringe. “One last shot and you’re on your way. I need your shoulder.” She grabbed an alcohol swab while he shrugged one arm out of his coat and sweater. He had on a sleeveless tee-shirt which did nothing to hide defined pecs and brick abs and the Marine Corp logo tattooed on his deltoid or the scar circling his shoulder. Rotator cuff surgery, she guessed. Fairly recent by the condition of the scar.
Just give him the shot. She swiped the swab across his deltoid. Out of respect, she pierced his skin below the tatt and pressed the plunger. The sharps were tossed into the red container. All he needed was a band-aid. To be spiteful, she slapped a Sponge Bob band-aid on his arm. He glanced at it and surprised her by humming a few bars of the theme song.
“I caught some shrapnel in Afghanistan.” He volunteered.
Back to her patient, Kensley froze. All her muscles locked except for her lips. They thinned from the effort to keep her sharp response inside.
“The last mission,” he continued.
Trembling, she spun and said in a steady voice. “Though the stitches will melt away as you heal, the doctor will need to see you tomorrow before closing time to check my handiwork.” She turned away as he adjusted his tee-shirt and sweater.
Good, they both knew how to play, ‘Let’s pretend.’ “Do you have any Tylenol at home?”
He shook his head. She pulled a few samples out of a nearby cabinet. “Here’s a few to get you through the night.” He shoved them in his coat pocket, and she had serious doubts he’d take them even if he needed them.
Not her business. She did all she could, and now, she was done. “I should’ve got your insurance information earlier, but…” He distracted her. “I forgot. Do you have insurance?”
He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and placed five crisp one hundred-dollar bills into her palm. The town wasn’t rich. The only industry was in timber, an industry he didn’t work in. As far as she knew, Noah didn’t have any job. So, where did he get five hundred dollars, and why was it no big deal to hand it over. Again, not her business.
She took two crisp hundred dollar bills out of the pile and handed the rest back to him. “Let me get your discharge papers and change. I’ll be right back.” She went to the front desk and had to reboot the computer. The ancient thing took eight minutes. She used that time to mop up the blood trailing from the front door to the desk. The discharge papers took another few minutes. “Okay, you’re all set,” she said as she rounded the corner to the clinical area and halted as Noah tossed a wad of bloody Clorox wipes into the trash. He’d cleaned up the mess he made when she took care of him.
“You didn’t have to do that.” And was annoyed that he did because that meant she had to thank him. Good manners dictated that she do so. “But thank you.”
“Least I could do since I stopped you from leaving.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to appear harmless, she guessed. On someone else that might’ve worked. Noah was too big, too muscular, too…everything. There was nothing harmless about Noah Kirby. Never was and never would be.
She handed him the papers. “You’re free to go.”
Favoring his injured leg, he limped past her but stopped. “Get your stuff. I’m walking you out.” He didn’t wait for her to tell him he didn’t have to. He limped to the exit.
When a man wants to be a gentleman, let him. The words of her grandmother rang in her head. These days so few men understand what the word means. They didn’t have anyone to teach ‘em.
“I don’t need you to be a gentleman. I’m perfectly fine taking myself home as I’ve been doing since I was allowed to walk home by myself.”
His nostrils flared, and he held up his hands as if in surrender, but she wasn’t done. All professionalism went out the window. This opportunity had landed in her lap, and she’d be damned if she didn’t take it, especially when it may never come again. Everything she wanted to say and had buried for three long months clawed its way to the surface.
“This isn’t you being a good guy, a gentleman. This is you being guilty, guilty about Kevin. I don’t want your guilt. Your guilt won’t bring my brother back from Afghanistan. Your guilt won’t make his death easier.” The rage in her heart had her stepping closer, getting in his face. She ignored the sadness in his eyes, and the wave of remorse tainting the air between them. She wouldn’t accept it, couldn’t, not if it meant releasing her righteous fury. Her brother was dead, and she was the only one that cared. The only one. “You can limp your sorry self out of here with your guilt shoved it up your ass.”
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CHECK OUT TMONIQUE’S PARANORMAL SERIES.
Books
Descendants of Ra series
Entrapped Prequel (coming soon)
Eternity Book 1
Everlasting Book 2
Evermore Book 3
Encore Book 4
Forever Novella Book 4.5
Entwined (Book 5 coming soon)
The UnHallowed Series.
Only Tonight
Only The Fallen (Book 1)
Only One I Want (Book 2)
Only You (Book 3)
Only One I’ll Have (Book 4)
Only One Little Sin (Book 5 coming soon)
Plain Jane Series
Plain Jane and the Hitman
Plain Jane and the Bad Boy
Standalone Novels
If I Love You
About the Author
Passion changes everything, especially for the characters Tmonique writes about in her Descendants of Ra, UnHallowed, and Plain Jane series. Flawed characters who reflect the emotional baggage we all carry interests her the most. She writes complicated stories for complicated people.
Her favorite paranormal authors are JR Ward, Gena Showalter, and Kresley Cole. Her favorite contemporary authors are Natasha Knight, Theodora Taylor, and Nancy Haviland. She also enjoys Stephen King, Dean Koontz, and Preston & Child.
Check out her Descendants of Ra series. Eternity, Everlasting, Evermore, Encore, and Forever, are the first five novels available now. The first four novels in her UnHallowed series—Only The Fallen, Only One I Want, Only You, and Only One I’ll Have are available now.
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