Page 42 of Lucky's Trouble

“Yeah. Bathroom’s back there. I put an extra toothbrush on the sink.”

“Thanks.”

Lucky’s bathroom fits in with his design aesthetic, meaning there is none. The towels are black, the shower curtain is plastic and clear, and there are no products on the floating shelves above the toilet. Snooping in his medicine cabinet, I find a drugstore deodorant, a beard-trimming kit he obviously doesn’t use, a toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, and a brush. That’s it.

After doing my business and cleaning myself up, I run out of excuses to put off this exam, though I’m not sure that’s what it is. Bones doesn’t look like any doctor I’ve been to, and we’re in a cabin on a biker compound.

When I reenter the living room, Lucky’s bed is back to being a couch, and both men are kicked back, shooting the shit.

Bones stands. “Hey, Tinleigh. It’s Tinleigh, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool, cool.” He tucks his hair behind his ears. “I thought we could just talk for a minute, and I could take a look at some of your injuries. Is that okay?”

“Sure.”

“She’s red like you,” he says to Lucky, and I furrow my brows in confusion.

“Your aura,” Lucky explains, as if it’s a natural thing for a doctor to say.

“Lucky, you wanna step out for a minute?” Bones asks.

“Oh, right. Sure. As long as Tinleigh’s comfortable?”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I say because as awkward as this is, the only thing that’ll make it worse is having Lucky here.

“Bring her to the clubhouse when you’re done, yeah?” he asks Bones.

“Will do, brother.”

He steps out, and then I’m alone with white Biker Jesus.

“Lucky filled me in on what happened, so you don’t need to go through explaining it all again.”

“Okay.” I take a seat on the sofa, slightly relieved.

“Mind if I take a look at your lip and head?” He vacates the recliner and takes a seat next to me.

“Are you really a doctor?”

“I am. Board certified and all that shit. Just choose not to practice in a traditional medical setting. Though if the state medical board asks, I have a private practice in Reno.”

“Have at it then,” I say.

He scoots closer and cups my face, placing his thumb on either side of my split lip. “I’ll bet this bled like a bitch.”

“Yeah.”

“Mouth wounds tend to do that.” He turns my head from side to side, inspecting the cut from all angles. “Had I seen you the day it happened, I might have thrown a stitch or two in there just for vanity’s sake because, as it is, you’ll have a small scar, but not much I can do about it now. There doesn’t appear to be any kind of infection, but if it swells up anymore or the skin around it becomes hot, let me know.”

His warm hands move up my face and to the top of my head. Once again, he uses his thumbs to press along the edge of the lump in the center of my forehead. He’s gentle and methodical, and now that he’s examining me, I can see the doctor in him coming out.

“Normally, I’d send you in for an MRI to be on the safe side, but I think it’s just a simple contusion.” He palpates my nose, easing up on the pressure when I suck in a sharp breath. “Sorry, noses hurt like a bitch. Your bones are all in place, so I feel confident saying you didn’t break it.”

“That’s good.”

“Real good. You wouldn’t like me much if I had to set it back in place.” His hands fall away. “Anything else?”

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