Page 7 of Healed By Doc
The knob turns, and then slowly, like a horror movie scene, the door swings inward with a soft groan, and my breath hitches as a pair of dark boots step into the room.
He fills the doorway, a dark silhouette against the hallway light. He’s wearing a black shirt today, rolled up to his elbows to reveal a tapestry of tattoos snaking up his arms. My heart pounds frantically as I take in the sight of him, that short hair slicked back and the way the light catches the sharp angles of his face. I shouldn’t notice the way his jeans fit snugly or just how the shirt stretches over his shoulders.
I realize that I’m trembling again, but it has little to do with fear this time.
Desire slowly seeps through my body, leaving me a trembling mass of need. Made worse when those carefully blank eyes lock on mine.
“Good morning, ladies,” he says, voice deep and rough as he steps into the room. “Abby, how are you feeling?”
“Better,” she says, looking between us, clearly noticing the weird tension in the room. Hard not to when it’s practically floating in the air, thick enough to cut.
I want to go. Run away. Hide.
My hands tremble as I collect the breakfast tray. “I’ll, um, leave you to it,” I say hurriedly, but before I can get through the door, a hand grasps my arm, stopping me. I freeze to the floor, my head swimming with fear and my body burning with heat from his touch. Both emotions equally overwhelming.
“Stay,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I’m sure Abby will be more comfortable with you in the room.”
I look back at Abby, whose nervous fingers are twisting the blanket over her lap, and then back at the man, swallowing at having those dark eyes firmly on me. “Okay.”
His eyes linger on me a couple of seconds longer before his hand drops, and I wait until he turns away to shudder out a breath. I give it a few more seconds for my heart to stop hammering in my chest before turning around. Slowly, I place the tray back down on the side table and lower myself on a seat, intent on staying invisible.
James drops a brown leather Gladstone bag on the bed and opens it to reveal a variety of medical instruments and supplies. “Tell me, Abby, did you have trouble sleeping last night?” he asks, walking to the opposite side of the bed to check her wounds, and I find my mind drifting as I stare at the man that scares me as much as he turns me on.
Is it a wonder that I would be attracted to the one person who saved me?
That I would allow myself to be lost in the soothing rasp of his voice as he speaks, a deep rumble that works to ignite and soothe parts of me. I’ve never been attracted to anyone before this moment, afraid to fall for someone like my stepfather or stepbrother with their wild tempers and dark hearts. In the three years I’ve been on my own, I’ve met so many men like them and the women they left with scars on their bodies and minds that will never fully heal. It only makes sense that I would resign myself to being alone forever.
It’s fate's idea of a cruel joke for me to be drawn to the last man I should be.
“I think we can lose the IV. There are no signs of infection, but I’ll stop by again to check up on you,” he says, straightening up, and I realize that I’ve completely missed him redressing her wounds with fresh bandages and Abby taking her pain meds. “I’m leaving you with a balm for the bruising. Make sure you get enough rest and don’t hesitate to ask for me if you’re in pain.”
“Thanks, Doc.” Abby offers the man a hesitant smile, and I sit up, a part of me hoping that he’ll simply leave, but instead, he turns to me. I drop my hands on my lap and wait for him to finally address me.
“Miss Dupree.”Oh God, here it comes.“I would like a moment of your time.”
“My…m-mine?”
“Yes, in private.”
Oh, God.
What could he possibly want from me if not some kind of revenge? Is he going to make me leave? This shelter is owned by the Steel Rebels. If he wanted me out, certainly they’d support him. Right?
This place is the closest thing to home I’ve ever known. I don’t want to leave, but I will if he demands it. He’s the club medic, so our paths would be bound to cross again if I stay. I owe it to him to disappear from his life at the very least.
“Okay,” I offer meekly, slowly climbing to my feet. “We…uh, can talk in the hallway.” Where anyone could walk by and see us.
He nods and opens the door, urging me to walk ahead of him, and I’ve just stepped outside when a loud yell breaks through the air. I’m racing down the hall before my mind can make sense of what the sound means, rushing downstairs and to the front, half expecting to see yet another woman seeking help. That is the only thought in my head as I reach the entrance, and I am taken by surprise at the sight of a man standing outside fighting the two men restraining him.
“Where the fuck is my girlfriend? I know she’s here, goddamnit!” he yells, kicking at the men holding him back. “Don’t tell me she’s not here, because the tracker I put on her damn phone proves she is, and I know she sent those goons after me yesterday. Yeah, that’s right! I heard all about the attack dogs sniffing around my place last night.”
He’s blond with boyish looks and blue eyes that would have made him look harmless if he weren’t foaming at the mouth.
He looks like Eric.
I choke out a laugh, backing up a step as I stare at a man who could have passed as a younger version of my stepbrother. But Eric is dead. He can’t hurt me anymore, because he’s dead! My hand protectively closes around my left wrist, whimpering at the memory of Eric’s firm grasp on it. He’d broken it once; it never was the same after that and still hurts now and then.
“Get Abby out here before I fucking lose it. That little bitch needs a lesson in manners.”
