So, that’s exactly what I do.
Holy Mother of God, doing that is either the best thing I’ve ever done in my life, or the worst. I’m too busy having this man kiss the life out of me to figure it out. The only thing I truly know for sure is that there is no way I will ever be the same again.
No. Freaking. Way.
Red Flags and Stitches
HORSE
Ilean back on the gurney in the local ER and look at the woman who walks in with dark blue scrubs on. It’s a damn shame because I miss her slutty little Christmas outfit. Her hair has gone from sex-hair to a high ponytail. It’s still beautiful, but I have to say the sex-hair is my favorite—especially if I can be the man who gives it to her. She’s got one of those white medical coats over her scrubs, and there’s an ID badge on it that catches my eye immediately. Her picture is on the laminated tag, and below that is the name Gwen Murphy, APRN. Seems the woman I want is gorgeous and smart.
“Where’s your dog?” I ask, drinking her in slowly and liking every damn thing I see.
Gwen looks up at me, and those blue-gray eyes of hers seem to assess everything about me quickly and methodically. I can’t help but wonder if I live up to whatever she’s trying to judge me against. “I asked one of the volunteers to take Baby to the children’s wing and let him work his magic there,” she explains.
I grin. “Damn. I can’t call you Holly, and now I can’t call you baby. It will confuse your poor dog.”
“Well, I’m not calling you Horse, Mr. Gates.” I frown, wishing I hadn’t had to register when I got here. I hate being called by my father’s last name.
“I’d prefer Horse.”
“Not happening,” she says stubbornly.
“Then, call me Wyatt,” I compromise.
“I’m going to stitch up the graze on your stomach. The bullet just nicked you, but the wound needs some help to close. I’m going to start you on an antibiotic. I want you to take every pill. Don’t skip it. The last thing your body needs right now is to stave off an infection.”
“I like it when you’re all demanding and full of authority. That’s new for me. I usually like my women more pliable,” I murmur.
“That’s definitely not me,” she says, “but since I’m not one of your women, neither of us needs to worry about that, now do we?”
“You aren’t yet, but you will be,” I respond at once.
She gives me a smirk, shaking her head before she starts concentrating on the job in front of her. “Keep it up and I’ll have them do a scan to make sure you don’t have a concussion, because now you’re talking out of your head.”
“Here I thought you rode in the ambulance to the hospital because you were worried about me.”
“I hate to wound yourveryfragile ego, but I just saw a free ride to work,” she murmurs. “Now, this is going to sting, but it should numb you so that I can stitch you up.”
“I can handle it without the numbing, Gwen.”
“Not on my watch, Wyatt,” she grumbles in return—sounding very put out with me. “Do you know who was taking a shot at you or were you truthful to the cops when we got here?” she asks, surprising me. I cock my eyebrow up and look at her, acting as if I’m insulted. Instead of caving—as most peopledo—she just returns my stare. I know I’m a pretty imposing figure. I haven’t met a man or woman that I couldn’t intimidate. Apparently, my little Christmas Gwen is immune to me. The reality of that makes me grin. “Hello? Earth to big bad biker jerk.”
My grin turns into a frown. “I’m not a jerk.”
“You decided to call me Holly because my name wasn’t good enough for you. That makes you a jerk.”
“I took a bullet to protect you,” I point out—not really serious but wanting to know what she’ll say.
“I’ve been thinking about that. Do you know that before I met you, I never had one person even shoot a gun around me?”
“Is that a fact?” I drawl.
“It is, and do you know what?”
“What?” I ask, fighting my smile once again.
“I’m just wondering how many timesyou’vebeen shot at.”
