Page 60 of Battle with a Billionaire

She bobbed her head, though the movement made pain bloom across her forehead. Her parched mouth and dry throat didn’t allow for words to come out.

The man set his tablet down beside her and poured her a cup of water before he held a straw to her lips. She sucked on it, letting the cool liquid quench her thirst.

“Better?” he asked.

“Y-yeah,” she murmured as she tried to push up to sit in the bed.

The scrub-clad man eased her back into the bed. “Whoa, easy, easy, we’re not there yet, Julia.”

She scrunched her brow. Why was she in the hospital?

“I’m Doctor Gray. I was your surgeon.”

“Surgeon?”

He bobbed his head up and down as he tapped on his tablet. “You were in a very bad accident. You needed surgery. You were in a medically induced coma for just over forty-eight hours. It was touch-and-go for a while with you. But I’m glad to see your eyes open.”

She pinched her forehead as she tried to recall an accident. “I don’t remember an accident.”

“No? That’s very common.” He smiled at her. “Let’s just work on making sure you’re doing okay now. Do you have any pain?”

She winced again. Her mind searched her memory for an accident, but she couldn’t recall anything. Maybe that was for the best. Apparently, it had been fairly bad. “Yes.”

“Okay, where?”

“My head is splitting. And every time I take a deep breath, right here.” She grimaced as she rubbed her ribs.

“Your ribs are bruised. The head concerns me a little more. You had some swelling when they brought you in. It’s reduced, but I don’t like the headache. I’m going to order a few tests.”

Julia clicked her tongue as she let her head fall back against the flat pillow.

“What? You don’t like tests?” The doctor flicked his gaze to her.

“Does anyone? It’s bad enough I was in an accident, but now I have to be poked and prodded.”

He chuckled before he pulled a penlight from his pocket and flicked it in her eyes before he returned to her chart. “You were in very bad shape when you came in.”

“Really? What happened?”

“Someone ran a stop sign and t-boned you. Dr. Carter nearly lost you when you came in, but he managed to get you stabilized. And you were a champ through surgery. Can you squeeze my hands?”

She gripped his fingers and squeezed.

“Good. You’ve got a nice grip on you.”

“Can I forego the tests then?”

“Is your headache gone?” he asked as he tapped on the tablet.

“No,” she admitted.

“Are you ticklish?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” she asked.

He lifted the sheets by her feet and traced a finger up her foot. She yanked it away. “Yes, I am.”

“Sorry, I usually like to warn people, but you wanted to withhold that information.” He flicked a finger up the other foot.

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