Page 2 of Under His Guard

“Oh, I’m not concerned, Dr. Stewart. Chicks dig scars, right? Though, I do think I’m supposed to be wearing that red stuff on the inside. Still, do you think it’s my color?”

I chuckle, trying not to jiggle too much as I continue stitching.

“Hmm, I don’t know. It’s hard to tell when your hue is so off.”

I sneak a glance up at his face to offer a smirk, and Mr. Shaw grins wider.

“Well, shit. Here I was, trying to impress you with my rosy glow. Sallow and washed-out is cute, though.”

Most of the way through sewing up his laceration, I muscle the needle harder through the flesh to make sure I’m sewing up all the layers of damaged tissue.

“Doc?” His voice is full of exaggerated worry. “Oh, no. Tell me it isn’t so. Please. Have I lost my…”

He doesn’t finish, and when I’m through another stitch, I look up. The performance is perfection, that knitted brow of his so expressive.

I fight back the smile. “Lost your what?”

Mr. Shaw dramatically looks to the side, putting the back of his hand to his forehead like he’s going to faint.

“My sparkle.”

Barking out a laugh, I have to immediately quiet myself as several other doctors and patients glare in my direction.

With a shake of my head and a roll of my eyes, I go back to the sutures.

“I assure you, Mr. Shaw, your sparkle is intact. Unless you kept it in your abdominal muscles.”

He sighs loudly.

“Oh, thank God. And no, no. I don’t keep it there. I keep my sparkle in the moneymaker. Obviously.”

I snort, another eye roll taking over.

“The abs are the pulse pounders.”

But then, he groans a little.

Snapping up to look at him, I raise my brows. “Are you all right?”

He nods. “Yeah, that just feels…really fucking weird.”

It’s only been a few minutes, Mr. Shaw’s distractions not affecting me too much, thankfully, and I’m nearly done with the stitches.

“Oh, yeah. They can, I guess. I don’t have personal experience receiving them. Just giving them out. But as long as I’m not hurting you, Mr. Shaw.”

“You could never, darlin’.”

My heart skips, and I have to blink twice as I process what he just said.

When I look back up at Mr. Shaw’s face, he just smirks.

“And it’s still just Luke.”

Something behind my ribs pulls, and I swallow hard, finishing up the last few stitches. I’m not sure what that was, but my skin feels hot and clammy all of a sudden.

Oh, no, no. You do not have time for that. Nose down, work hard, stay unattached.

“Oookay,” I say as I thread the last stitch. “You’re all good to go. You’ll need to hang out for a while so we can administer antibiotics. But you’ll be receiving discharge instructions and signs to watch for infection or any potential complications. I’ll just?—”

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