Page 13 of Saved By the Surly Medic

"On a scale of one to ten, is the pain above a two?"

Her lips press together for a moment. "I've never understood that question. Like, my scale might be different than yours."

My faint growl makes her smile. "Humor me. Today's going to be all about your healing. Got it?"

She glowers, even though her eyes are dancing. "We're here to heal your patients."

"Precisely. And you are my most important patient. So you must follow your not-really-a-doctor's orders."

We walk inside, and I keep my arm around her until she tries to pull away. "Isn't this a little unprofessional?" she asks.

"That didn't even occur to me. I have no problem with anyone knowing that we are…" Shit. We haven't even begun to talk about this. What are we, anyway?

"Um…at the beginning of…whatever we're at the beginning of?" she offers, quirking up an eyebrow.

I get the impression that she's uncomfortable with defining things so soon. Strange. Most women want a committed relationship, or so I've heard. But if that's what the lady wants, that's what the lady gets. "Exactly."

Once we're inside, I get Brooke organized with water, juice, a fresh coffee, and a massive heating pad wrapped around her ribs as she lounges in the easy chair in the waiting room. Then I set a canvas bag with her sketching supplies beside her.

She sighs. "I feel like a helpless, broken princess."

I hand her another painkiller. "It would make me very happy if we increased the dose a bit today, plus applied heat, and have you really promise not to move around much. This is probably going to be the worst day for you, and all that will take the edge off."

"Fine." She washes the pill down with juice. "Can I at least pretend I'm your receptionist today so I don't feel so useless?"

"Can you do that without moving a muscle?"

She points to her mouth. "Okay, not receptionist, more like official greeter. All talking, no moving."

Drawing my attention to her perfect lips makes me bend down to kiss her gently. I jump away as the door opens.

Brooke doesn't miss a beat, smiling up at Mr. Cabrido. "Good morning, sir. Welcome to the clinic."

The elderly gentleman's eyes grow wide, but he smiles. "Good… Good morning, miss."

I wave him into the exam room, leaving Brooke grinning to herself.

Luckily, my appointments today are nothing more than the usual routine of determining who should go to West Stoneburg for further tests or x-rays, and who is okay to rest up at home for several days.

Just as I'm saying goodbye to a preteen boy and his nervous mother, assuring them it's a slight goose egg, not a full on concussion, I hear Brooke's voice. "Jonah! Emergency!" I race out to the waiting room with my heart in my throat, only breathing again when I see that Brooke is fine.

She's gesturing to a local farmer whose hand is wrapped in several bloody rags. "No big deal," Ernest mutters, shaking his head. "Might need a stitch or two, though."

A quick examination determines that in fact he needs over a dozen stitches, all the way up the outside of his wrist and arm. "It's long, but luckily it isn't deep. No tendons or nerves affected," I assure him.

"Yeah, just a big ol' bloody mess. Sorry to trouble you with this, doc."

"Nonsense. It's what I'm here for."

As I set to work, I notice Brooke is standing in the doorway. Her eyes are wide as she looks at Ernest. "Can I get you anything?" she asks gently. "Stitches are no fun. If you need a coffee, or someone to chat and distract you, perhaps I can help."

Ernest chuckles, smiling widely. "That's mighty nice of you, miss. You know, I wouldn't mind a coffee. I kicked mine over when this darn thing happened. Black, please and thank you."

As I stare into Brooke's lovely gray eyes, I realize I'm already in love with her. She's ignoring her own pain to help a perfect stranger. Trying to help, no matter what. Not only is that the mark of a good person, it's a quality people need to survive up here on the harsh mountain.

Maybe…just maybe… It's a sign.

8

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