Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
When he just nodded, Anne reached up and probed the white bandage that was over her eyebrow. A female doctor had come in and listened to her lungs and checked her stomach and torso for problems, and then, when there had been a short wait for the X-ray machine to be free, the woman had cleaned and covered anything that required a clinical-grade Band-Aid.
“Were they gentle with you?”
She turned her head on the thin pillow. The mystery man who seemed to be orchestrating the whole ER visit had crossed his legs knee to knee, and had one long, elegant hand hanging off his thigh, his perfect posture turning that flimsy chair into a throne. Unsurprisingly, his profile was every bit as good as the head-on of his face, his nose a straight shot down from his brows, his jaw strong, his broad shoulders and pronounced upper arms the perfect frame to it all. Even though his hair was dark, he had no five-o’clock shadow, and she wondered if his chest was bare or—
Flushing, she looked away. Then she rearranged her-self on the hospital bed with a groan. Things were already stiffening up on her, her muscles tightening, certain joints locking into place. Likewise, contusions were settling in for a duration on what felt like most of her body, the focal points of soreness like bad-apple roses, all thorns.
“Who are you?” she blurted. “To this hospital, I mean.”
There was a pause. “Just another onlooker.”
“You know the doctor, though.”
“Not really.”
She had to glance back at him. “What was the language you spoke to him in? I didn’t recognize it.”
“It’s just an obscure European dialect. It doesn’t matter.”
“So how did you know he’d speak it?”
Before he could reply, the curtain was pulled back, and Dr. Bluff stepped in. “Everything looks good.” He focused on the mystery man. “Nothing is broken. I think she’ll have some lingering swelling and soreness—”
“Hey, Doc,” Anne interrupted. When both men looked at her in surprise, she smiled tightly and gave them a little wave. “When you’re reporting the results of my X-rays, I’d appreciate it if I’m the one you’re giving them to.”
Dr. Bluff blinked. Glanced at the man.
When the man nodded, the doctor came up to the foot of the bed. “I’m sorry I focused on your husband. Of course, you’re right.”
Anne sat up a little higher, ignoring the way her shoulder thumped with pain. “He’s not my husband.”
“I—all right then.” Dr. Bluff shook his head like he was confused, but not going to dwell on business that was none of his own. “At any rate, we don’t see any fractures or misalignments. Your vitals are great, your wounds attended to. I’m comfortable releasing you with just a light pain reliever. But if you experience any double vision, nausea or vomiting, new or worsening headache, or any other symptoms that concern you, I want you to get in touch with your doctor or come back here.”
“I don’t have a physician.”
“Then you need to return to St. Francis and ask for me.” Dr. Bluff glanced back at the man. “I’ll take care of her. Don’t you worry.”
Okaaaaaay, she was really ready for the day when adult women weren’t treated like children.
“Great,” she muttered. “I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome,” Dr. Bluff murmured to the man with a little bow. “I’ll just go write a prescription and she can be on her way.”
After the doctor left, Anne closed her eyes in frustration, but decided to move on from being treated like a child—because she had a bigger problem than the kind of benevolent misogyny she dealt with at work. Or in her neighborhood. Or out in the world, in general.
“I don’t have my purse,” she said to herself. “So I don’t have my keys… my ID…”
“I am so sorry. I didn’t see anything in the road—”
“No, it’s because I left it in his…” She went to rub her face and poked herself in the bandage, right where it hurt. Cursing, she put her head back and stared at the ceiling. “This night just keeps getting longer, it really does.”
“Where did you leave your things?”
“Back with him.”
As a strange sound weaved around her bed, she looked over to it. The man’s brows were down low, and his eyes gleamed with something that she couldn’t define—no, wait. She knew what it was.
She wasn’t threatened by the fury, however.
In a low voice, he said, “I’ll get your things back from whoever, wherever. Just say the word and it is done.”
The words were spoken quietly, but somehow, the lack of volume made them scarier than if he’d yelled them. And as much as it didn’t reflect well on her character, she entertained a brief, but very vivid, fantasy of this man she didn’t know at all showing up on the doorstep of a man she’d thought she’d known very well.