“Cassie, if you’re gonna be stubborn and make decisions based on what you think is supposed to happen to an artist instead of taking precautions to make sure you don’t become a statistic, then I would say you might need to look into a less dangerous art.” I raised an eyebrow in her direction. “How are you with watercolors?”
Her jaw dropped, and her sad expression turned to annoyance. It was fucking cute. “I am excellent with watercolors, thank you very much. But that’s not the point. I love candles. And candles love me.” She held up her arm as if to prove her point. “They even want to be attached to me everywhere I go.”
Brat. I rolled my eyes and kept myself from grinning. “Do you think you’re helping your case, Cassie?”
She shrugged and then looked me over with her scrutinizing gaze. “How are you with watercolors, Mr. Fancy Doctor?”
I cleared my throat and released a chuckle. “I’m okay with all paints, but only when I’m helping a Little girl with herart.” I held her stare, waiting to see how she would respond.
Cassie’s breath hitched as she flushed the most delicious shade of pink. “Oh. Well, that’s very nice to hear. I’m sure any Little girl you helped would be happy for your assistance.”
I couldn’t help but notice that instead of keeping her legs splayed wide open for me, she tried to close them up before realizing that was no longer an option. She settled for adjusting the sheet to cover her crotch, which I’d already been staring at since I walked in.
What was this girl trying to hide from me?
I allowed my eyes to trail down her body and then back up. “I’m gonna get you all cleaned up, Cassie, but I don’t want to see you back here with any more wax injuries.”
She swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to correct her and tell her to call me Daddy, but that was completely inappropriate. I must’ve been really low on sleep if I was letting myself daydream in that way. I’d never lost control of my composure with a patient before, much less one who was alone and vulnerable.
Honestly, I just had that gene in me. The one that made me want to take care of people who need to be taken care of.
And Little Miss Cassie Arnold over here definitely needed someone to take care of her.
Chapter 3
Cassie
I knew it was bad, but when the sexy doctor—who was also a little grouchy—started to pick off bits of flesh, I was pretty sure I wasn’t gonna make it. They said the good die young, and I was a good girl, so that tracked.
But every time I whimpered in pain and squirmed underneath him, Doctor Dayton pressed his hand against my calf and squeezed it, giving me a moment to catch my breath before he had to scrape at another tender area.
“You’re lucky you don’t need skin grafts, Cassie.” He put the awful tweezer thingy down and grabbed a tube of thick ointment. “It could have been much worse.”
“I doubt it.” I covered my face with my hands and peeked out from between my fingers. “Is that goo gonna make it hurt more?”
He smiled and squirted a thick layer of the cream onto his gloved hand. “You mean this? This medical-grade, antibacterial silver sulfadiazine that I’m going to slather all over your thighs and arm to reduce infection and help you heal? That’s what you’reworried about hurting you?” He carefully coated the inside of my arm with an even layer. “Maybe you should have asked yourself that before you started working with wax upwards of 200 degrees in a baby doll dress and panties. Doncha think?”
“Why are you mad at me!” I should’ve gotten teary at his tone, but something about the way he looked at me was different than just someone being mean. He was being…concerned. And that brought on a totally different physical response from my body. One that was also wet but between my legs instead of under my eyelids. “Accidents happen when you create, you know. It’s called an occupational hazard!”
He scoffed and then moved the cream to my legs. The burn on my right thigh was closer to my knee, but on my left thigh, it spread in blotches from my knee up to my groin, and I knew what was coming next.
“Cassie, in order to make sure your burns don’t extend beneath the elastic leg band of your panties, I’ll need to cut them off.” He looked me in the eye and made sure I was paying attention. “Is that alright with you?”
Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh. He’s gonna cut off my panties.
I hadn’t even shaved in a week. Everything looked mostly tidy down there, but had I known a sexy doctor was gonna be all up in my business, I would’ve taken a few extra minutes to groom during my shower that morning. “Um, okay, but can’t you just pull them off? They’re my favorite.” And they were expensive.
He looked me in the eye and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Cassie. You’re not gonna be able to pull them down without scraping your skin, and I don’t want to risk any additional damage.”
“Okay.” I deserved some new ruffled panties anyway. I still needed to celebrate my new candle shop. “Do what you gotta do.” I threw my head back, pointing my chin at the ceiling and closing my eyes. It was so embarrassing to be on display like that, but he was a doctor. He saw private parts every day. He probably didn’t even notice the difference between a foot or a vagina anymore. I giggled and imagined a doctor who didn’t know the difference between those parts.
“Did something happen that I missed?” His voice was low enough that I knew he expected an answer.
“I was just thinking about how doctors are probably used to seeing lots of crazy things.” I cleared my throat and tried to play it cool as if having to cut people out of underwear was a normal thing.
He smiled but kept his head down. “I do. Every day. And you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
