The fact that he kept the nickname was endearing as hell. Yet another layer to this complex, sexy man.
We refocused on Dr. K, who gave him a warm smile. “Well, Kit, this is a good news, bad news situation. Which do you want first?”
“Bad news,” he said, unsurprisingly.
“You’ve got a torn meniscus. Which is probably pretty painful.”
Kit seemed to fold on himself, taking the news like a physical blow. “That why it feels like somebody’s stabbing the back of my knee?”
“Yes, sir. That is a classic symptom of a torn meniscus.”
“I’ve always been a fan of the classics,” he said, the joke falling flat when he tightened his jaw in pain. “What’s the good news?”
“The surgery to fix it is minimally invasive and has a high success rate.”
“No,” he said, almost before the words were out of her mouth.
“Kit.” I grabbed his hand. “Listen to Dr. Kleinfeld.”
“No,” he said, a little louder this time, then ripped his hand from mine. “I ain’t got time for knee surgery.”
“Mr. Baker—Kit,” Dr. Kleinfeld started. “It’s a quick outpatient surgery, which means you’ll be in and out the same day.”
“Yeah, a buddy of mine got something similar and couldn’t walk forweeks. I ain’t got weeks to sit on my ass.” He turned to me. “I told you.”
“I know,” I said, surprised by the vehemence of his reaction. “But you won’t beoutfor weeks. I mean, yes, you’ll need to baby it for a couple of weeks, but surely Lane can take care of the heavy lifting and you can stick to the office.”
He clenched his jaw. “Please don’t tell me how to run my business.”
I sat back, a little shocked, and Dr. Kleinfeld sent me a pitying look. She’d called it.
“Skylar? Why don’t you give me and Kit here a few moments to discuss the specifics, maybe calm some of his fears.”
“I ain’t afraid,” he said, shaking his head.
“My apologies for the poor word choice. My goal is to make sure you have all the facts. Is that okay?”
“Fine.”
Dr. Kleinfeld sat back and I got up, embarrassed he’d sniped at me in front of her. “I’ll, uh, go for a walk I guess.”
“Don’t go far,” Kit growled.
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I stood and quietly walked out the door. Still shaken by his reaction, I hit the sidewalk a few minutes later, aiming for the small café on the corner. Grabbing my phone, I shot Dr. Kleinfeld a quick text.
Me: Don’t listen to what he says. Keep that appointment for next month. I will get his ass here, I promise.
Dr. K: Okay, but $20 says you’re wrong.
Me: You’re on.
Putting my phone away, I cursed under my breath. That fucking stubborn cowboy. Not aware of my surroundings, I nearly screamed when someone gripped my shoulders.
“Kit, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Who the hell is Kit?”
I turned around, shocked. Daddy Big Bucks.Rich.
