Page 4 of Breaking Bristol

He nodded and made a cross with his hand over his heart. “And antibiotics.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, and one more thing…” he said.

“I’m not sleeping with you.” Oh my God, why did I say that? I was mortified. My face got hot, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something else stupid.

He smirked, and damn, his handsome face looked even hotter. “You let me remove your stitches in about a week.” I opened my mouth, and he shushed me. “I’ll meet you wherever, but I want to ensure the wound’s healed properly.”

“I’m not giving you my number.”

“Take mine and promise to call, and I promise I won’t ask my buddy to look up your plate number so I can get your full name and find out where you live to check on you.”

He didn’t need to know that he would be looking up Scotty’s information, and he didn’t need to know I was lying when I said, “Okay, fine. I’ll call you.”

* * *

“Shit, that hurts.”

“I know, I’m sorry. But once the burn stops, you won’t feel anything.” He concentrated on numbing my palm along the cut and set the syringe on the little silver table beside him. “There. All done. I usually give about thirty minutes before I begin suturing, but—”

“That’s too long to sit in here.”

He smirked again, and that, coupled with the hint of chest hair peeking out from the V in his scrub top he’d changed into, made me swallow thickly. “Like I was saying. I’m going to clean it up, and I already applied a numbing cream, so I hope that’s enough to get started since you want to make this quick. If it’s too much, just tell me, and I can wait for the full effects of the lidocaine. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

Those words nearly brought a tear to my eye. The man who was supposed to love and protect me used them as a calculating weapon instead of caring assurance like I was receiving right now from a complete stranger. “I’ll be fine.” And I would be. A few stitches were nothing compared to what I’d endured.

“All right.”

He cleaned the area with skilled hands and then got some supplies ready. Even though my palm was numbing, his soft touch lingered and awakened a part of me that had been dormant.

It had been so long since a man handled me with such care. I was glad I cut myself to experience this kind of nurturing and remind myself that good men still existed. I was even considering taking his number to call him so I could pretend I was hurt just to feel his touch again.

He changed his gloves and scooted closer to me on a rolling stool. His legs were woven between mine, and the soft graze of his hands, the warmth of his thigh, the calmness of his voice all lulled me into another dimension. I watched in a daze as he began working.

“You okay?” he asked without looking up at me.

“Yeah.”

I barely felt the pull of the thread, and I only winced once. By the time he finished, I had five stitches and a neatly wrapped hand. He gave me instructions on caring for the wound and some antibiotics. I was brought back down from the wistful place I’d been, realizing he was only doing his job and did not reciprocate those feelings. “Thank you, Dr. B.”

“You’re welcome.” He tossed the garbage in the can and put the needle into a red bin. “Oh wait.” After searching for a minute, he found a piece of paper and wrote on it. “My cell. Call me with questions, and let me know where you want to meet in about a week to remove those stitches.”

“Thank you.”

He smiled, his gaze lingering on me as I got to my feet. “Let me make sure the coast is clear.” He stuck his head out the door, then motioned for me to follow him. I giggled as he took my good hand and pulled me down the hall, then together we ran to the side door we came in. He didn’t let me go until we were at my car. “See. Told you nobody would find out.”

I looked down at our hands, and he followed my gaze, then mumbled something before letting go. My laughter faded when I realized at that moment, alone in the dark, I wasn’t scared of him. Not at all, and that was petrifying. “I need to go.”

“Right,” he drawled and rocked back on his heels.

I reached into my purse and clicked the key fob, and he opened my door before I had a chance. Swallowing hard, I made sure to avoid his eyes as I lowered myself into my seat. “Well, thanks again. For everything.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Wait.” I reached across the console for my purse. “I forgot to pay you.”

“No.” The harsh snap of his voice made my eyes flit up, and I caught the tail end of a scowl. “It’s fine.”

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