I turn to find a stunning woman standing there. Black scrubs hug her figure. Hair so dark brown, it’s almost ebony, curly up in a high ponytail. The contrast almost washing out her light-brown complexion.
“I wasn’t,” I choke out. The pain of talking and shaking out my hand in unison nearly making me groan aloud.
“Right. On the table, cowboy.”
My jaw grinds again, the stabbing jabs making me wince as I tuck my hand into my body.
She only watches me hop up onto the table with a grunt. That stern expression never leaving her face, the purse of her lips only becoming more exaggerated with every wince.
Sage green eyes focus on my face, but give nothing away. Large, beautiful eyes that seem to stare right through me. No way I’ll be able to bullshit this woman.
“Going to tell me what happened?”
“Nope. Just patch me up so I can get out there tonight.”
I brace for cold fingers to touch my skin as she reaches for my jaw, but they’re warm. Her touch isn’t tender, but it’s not rough either, as she grips my chin, turning my head to the side. She presses lightly, the warmth of her fingers further heating my skin.
Or maybe that’s just my libido raging to life, being next to such a gorgeous woman. It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone. I don’t fuck buckle bunnies, and relationships are too hard to maintain when a woman is constantly nagging about the potential of me getting hurt.
It’s inevitable. I’m a bull rider. I’m going to get hurt. Sometimes, it’s bad, and others more along the lines of a deep scratch—in my opinion.
“I want to send you up to the hospital for an X-ray. Good chance this jaw is broken.”
“Doc, that’s not going to work for me.”
Her glare sharpens. That beautiful green darkening as she steps between my spread knees. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”
“All due respect, sweetheart.”
“That’s Dr. Thompson.”
“Right, like I was saying. I know my body. Just give me some painkillers and an ice pack. I’ll get it checked after.”
“Why even come waste my time if you were just going to be a stubborn ass?”
My brows shoot high at her challenge and language. Dr. Duncan never fights me if I just want a band-aid and then to go ride. But she is. This fucking sexy-as-sin woman with the scrubs pulling across her large tits and round ass is trying to tell me what to do.
My mouth opens to tell her what I think of her opinion, then she grabs my hand. A howl of pain ricochets through the room. “There’s no crepitance, but good chance there’s a hairline fracture. Is this your riding hand?”
“Yes.”
“Figures.”
She releases me, my body immediately missing the warmth of her touch. When she returns with two small syringes filled with clear liquid and what looks like a heavy-duty ace bandage, I shift in place. Not a big fan of needles, but if it keeps her off my ass about my choices, so be it.
“Hand.”
I extend my hand to her again. She’s efficient as she administers the injection before wrapping it tightly. The pain instantly eases as I flex my fingers and then extend them again.
“Thanks, doc.”
She only glares at me, grunting before gripping my chin again. She administers the second injection, my eyes pressing shut against the twinge of the sharp point pushing past the barrier of my skin.
“Here’s an ice pack. Get your ass to the hospital.”
“I told you I’m riding.” Frustration leaking into my tone as I hop off the table. Doesn’t matter that it’s not until tomorrow. Pickup doesn’t count tonight. It’s child’s play.
“My medical opinion says you’re not.”
