Her eyebrow curved high. “No? You haven’t even seen it.”
He swallowed. “Show me.”
She peeled back the cotton, revealing a wedge of ceramic jammed exactly where he thought it was, in the meaty muscle at the base of his thumb. Probably just missed the ligament, and hopefully wasn’t deep enough to have hit the tendon.
Which meant it might be cosmetic damage only, but he wouldn’t know that until the shard came out—and the wound was cleaned. He repeated her curse, although he didn’t use the kindergarten version.
“Can I call 911 now?” the waitress helpfully offered.
“Nah, we’re good here,” Owen said with false bravado. He wasn’t calling for a bus when he didn’t need one.
Kerry nodded. “I’ll take him in.”
He made a face at her.
She raised an eyebrow. “Do you wantmeto clean it up? Because we can do this here or it can be done properly at the hospital. I have a suture kit in my car, I’m just saying.”
She meant it as a threat, but he liked that plan better. “Pretty sure I’m bigger than your average patient.”
“I don’t do stitches on the babies,” she said dryly. “And your palm isn’t bigger than a perineum.”
He deserved that, although he thought his hand was pretty damn big.
“Get your bag.” His head was starting to spin. He nodded at the waitress. “Hey, can we use the back room for this?”
“Uh…”
Kerry cleared her throat. “You know what? If you want me to do this, we can take it outside. We don’t need to be spreading any more biohazard risks around the diner. Health and safety complaints would mess with my preferred lunch routine.” She gave the waitress a quick smile. “I’m going to take this guy off your hands. Can you box up my lunch and bring it out when his food is ready?”
“Sure thing, Kerry.”
He gotuh…. She gotSure thing, Kerry.
His daughter’s midwife was a walking, talking advertisement for the saying,you catch more flies with honey. And yet Owen still couldn’t manage that shit when he was around her. Ironic.
She asked for a garbage bag, too, and carefully bagged up all of their biohazard waste—his blood all over napkins and tea towels he would have to replace—then got his hand wrapped up tightly again and gave him clear instructions on how to hold it, like he didn’t know.
Except he was the patient now, and his brain wasn’t working properly, so she was right to do that, and he appreciated it.
“I’m not a Neanderthal most of the time,” he said to her as they walked across the parking lot to her car. He blurted it out to distract himself, maybe, but also to get it off his chest. He knew that’s how he came off to her.
“No?”
He frowned. “No.”
“Okay.” She gave him a polite smile and unlocked her car.
“Do you think I actually am a Neanderthal?”
She shrugged. “You grunt a lot.”
“Sometimes I don’t know what to say.”
Kerry smirked at that and gestured for him to get in the back seat of her too-small car. While he squished himself into the space behind her passenger seat, she went around to the other side, where she fit just fine. Deftly, she opened her medical bag and pulled out a couple of sterile pads, which she stretched out on top of a gym bag sitting between them on the back seat. A makeshift examination table. Then she pulled a headlamp out a side pocket, turned it on, and got down to business. “All right. Let’s have a look.”
He made a face as he unfurled his fist.
She didn’t miss it. He saw the way she paused, looked at his face, and then changed the subject. “Is that what happened with the interagency working group? You didn’t know what to say?”
