“Your hospital?” I raised an eyebrow, amused at her annoyance.
She threw me a nasty look, her eyes turning a darker shade of blue, as if they changed color with her moods. “Yes, sir. My freaking hospital.” She pulled a pair of nitrile gloves from her pocket and slipped them on. The snap of the gloves against her skin echoed through the room.
When she opened up an alcohol swab and swiped at the open wound at my brow, I flinched as the cold stung against my skin.
“First, Chlamydia Clary, and now you. Everyone from freaking Bowlesville is creeping into my business.” Her clipped curt tone was the complete opposite to her gentle professional touch, which had a calming effect, though the throbbing pain was still present.
“I’m not from Bowlesville,” I corrected her. “I’m from Madison, and this is the main hospital in the metropolitan area.” Anyone in the city who needed to be rushed to a hospital would end up at New York Cornell.
“So?!” She pressed the alcohol swab farther into my wound, and I winced at the burn. I wondered if she did it on purpose. A second later, her face softened. “Sorry,” she mumbled, dropping the swab.
I reached for her free hand, my body acting on its own accord, and our eyes locked. A jolt of electricity surged between us. At five-five, an overall cuteness surrounded her. How had I never noticed it before? Her blonde hair was perfectly curled, and her makeup only highlighted her soft yet stunning features.
She smirked, catching me staring. “I’m not your type, boy.” A moment later, her hand brushed against my chest. “I’m way out of your league.” She leaned in closer, inches from my face, her breath tickling my skin as she whispered in my ear, “And I most definitely don’t fuck good boys.”
She drew her hand back as the blood from my wound immediately rushed south instead. Her naughty mouth was so out of her small town character, but so damn hot.
“Ouch,” I said, placing a hand on my own heart, feigning pain. I was hurting all right, but the ache wasn’t in my chest.
She flipped her hair over her shoulder, turned, and strode to the counter. I watched her perfectly sculpted ass move from side to side.
“It’s not that you’re not cute. I’m just not into your type.” She threw the gloves and swab in the red trash can then moved toward the table.
My curiosity was piqued. “And what is your type?” My eyes zoned in on her apple ass as she turned to lay out her medical supplies on the metal table.
She shrugged casually. “Not the good boy, that’s for sure.”
“I was just in a bar fight. How am I a good boy?” I silenced another chuckle.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m dating someone,” she said.
My shoulders sunk at her words. They shouldn’t have. I didn’t need or have time for a girlfriend, so I didn’t understand why I felt even an ounce of disappointment.
“Who beat you up?” She changed topics on me so fast I got whiplash.
I cringed as I remembered the whole stupid story. “Some random guy.”
“What did you do to get this guy super pissed enough to draw blood?” She quirked an eyebrow, a sly smile on her face.
“Hit on his girl and tried to take her home.”
Her gentle laughter rippled through the air, the change in her mood even more refreshing than her earlier annoyance. “No, you did not.” Her eyes showed amusement, surprise even.
“Not a nice guy move, is it? Hitting on another guy’s girl?”
“But you didn’t know, did you? And I bet you didn’t even get in a good hit.” She crossed her arms over her chest and quirked an eyebrow.
I pushed my fist into my palm, playing the tough guy. “You should’ve seen the other guy. He could barely even stand, let alone walk out of that club when I was done. Him and his friends.”
Her eyes flickered to my biceps before landing back on my face. “Really?”
I shook my head as a deep chuckle escaped my lips. “No, the guy handed me my ass.”
An irresistible devastating grin spread across her face. Her laughter was infectious, causing my lips to turn up wider in response. I noticed she had the cutest subtle dimple on her chin, and a sudden urge to run my tongue along her jawline came over me.
“Come on, did you even get a hit in? Surprise him with your fist against his jaw?”
I shrugged one shoulder. “I didn’t want to deal with it. I just wanted to get home.” Mentally cussing out Trey, I remembered I hadn’t even wanted to go out in the first place.
She tilted her head, her blue eyes studying me. “See? You’re too nice.”
“Nope. I just have bad luck.” Lately, that stroke of bad luck kept on stroking.
A knock on the door broke our conversation. When the doctor peered in, Kendy gave a nod, straightened, and popped her hip out, throwing a charming smile his way.
Her boyfriend?
I took him in, already sizing him up.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Klein.” He strolled in, looking like he had a stick up his ass as he shook my hand. He had a weak handshake for someone of his stature and build. Being a little over six feet tall, I’d expected a firmer grip. He stood no taller than five-eight as his eyes assessed me.
“Brian Benson.”
Kendy cleared her throat, and we turned our attention her way. “Hi, Dr. Klein.” A forced sweetness, which hadn’t been there a minute ago, flowed out of her. She fluttered her eyelashes, yet something kept them apart.
Maybe they’re not together and she’s just flirting with him.
I coughed to cover up my laugh, fixing her with a stare. It was funny to watch her turn professional all of a sudden when, a minute ago, she’d been reaming me out for bleeding at her hospital.
“Brian Benson, twenty-five-year-old male—”
“I gave the doctor my name already.” I tried to hide the amusement in my tone, but failed.
She threw me the dirtiest look, but composed herself, covering it up with a smile when she realized that still had Dr. Stiff’s attention. “A one-inch laceration by the eyebrow caused by a major impact to the face. Heavy bleeding for the last twenty minutes, indicated on his paperwork. No dizziness reported by the patient. He’ll most likely need stitches.”
Kendy handed the doctor some blue gloves, her hand lingering on his, but he seemed unaffected as he turned to me and proceeded to do his doctoral duties. I caught disappointment on her face, confirming her feelings were indeed one-way. That shouldn’t have made me feel good, but it did.
Dr. Stiff numbed the area with a local anesthetic, threaded the needle, and then placed a hand on my shoulder, indicating I should lie down. I followed his lead.
“We’re going to stitch you up. Just a couple to close this wound. They should dissolve in one to two weeks.” His chipper tone irked me. Like he wasn’t about to stick a damn needle through my skin. I was sure they’d seen more gruesome injuries in the ER.
Resting against the hospital bed, I closed my eyes, and then flinched when I felt the needle pierce my skin. As many times as I’d had stitches from playing football and being the rambunctious only boy in the family, I should’ve been used to the pain. But pain was pain. Before I had counted backward from ten, he’d completed his task.
“All right, we’re done here.”
I sat up, touching my brow as the roughness of the stitches brushed against my fingertips. He met me at eye level, forced a small smile, and shook my hand before quickly turning away. The gesture seemed practiced, like he’d learned it in medical school.
I pushed myself up to a sitting position. “Thanks, doc,” I said as he reached into his pocket for his phone.
He barely acknowledged my presence before turning to Kendy. Where had this guy learned his bedside manner? “Kendall, can you clean up here? I’ve been paged to the front.”
“Of course, Dr. Klein.” There was that lilt in her voice again, and her eyes lit up like fireworks while he fumbled with his phone, then left the room.