“Oh?”
He sat in the chair she indicated, then frowned at his palm. “I guess this will put the skids on work for a couple of weeks.”
“Unless you want to paint left-handed,” she said with a smile as she washed up, snapped gloves on.
“Well, I was thinking about hanging out here longer anyway. Great place.” He sucked in his breath as she began to clean the burn. “Hurts like a bitch.”
“I bet it does. I’d recommend aspirin. And a potholder.”
He chuckled, then set his teeth against the pain. “I guess I’m lucky there’s a doc around. This kind of thing can get infected, right?”
“Mmm. But we’ll see that it doesn’t. What kind of things do you paint?”
“Whatever strikes me.” He smiled at her, enjoying her scent, the way her hair swept down gold over her cheek. “Maybe you’d like to pose for me.”
She laughed, then rolled her chair over to a drawer for salve. “I don’t think so, but thanks.”
“You’ve got a terrific face. I do good work with beautiful women.”
She glanced up. His eyes were hidden by the lenses. Though his smile was wide and friendly, there was something around the edges that made her suddenly ill at ease. Doctor or not, she was a woman and she was alone with a stranger. One who was watching her just a little too closely.
“I’m sure you do. But being the only doctor on the island keeps me pretty busy.” She bent her head again to coat the burn with salve.
Foolish, she told herself. She was being ridiculous. He had a second-degree burn on his hand and he was letting a stranger treat it. And he was an artist. Naturally he was watching her.
“If you change your mind, I guess I’m going to be hanging here for a while. Jesus, that feels better.” He blew out a long breath, and she felt his hand relax in hers.
Feeling even more foolish now, she offered him a sympathetic smile. “That’s what we’re here for. I want you to keep this dry. You can put a plastic bag around it when you shower. I wouldn’t try swimming for the next week. The dressing should be changed daily. If you don’t have someone around to help you with it, just come in and I’ll do it.”
“I appreciate it. You’ve got good hands, Doc,” he added as she wound gauze around his hand.
“That’s what they all say.”
“No, I mean it—not just good doctor hands. Artistic hands. Angel hands,” he said with another smile. “I’d love to sketch them sometime.”
“We’ll see about that when you can hold a pencil again.” She rose. “I’m going to give you a tube of salve. And I want you to check in with me in two days unless you leave the island. In that case you’ll want to have it looked at elsewhere.”
“Okay. What do I owe you?”
“Insurance?”
“No.”
“Twenty-five for the office visit and ten for the supplies.”
“More than fair.” He got up, tugged his wallet out of his back pocket with his left hand. Gingerly he plucked bills out with the fingers of his wrapped hand. “Guess it’s going to be awkward for a while.”
“They’ll help you out at the campground if you need it. It’s a friendly island.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“I’ll get you a receipt.”
“No, that’s all right.” He shifted, and she felt that little jolt of nerves again. “Listen, if you’re over that way, maybe you could stop in. You could see some of my work, or we could—”
“Kirby! You back there?”
She felt a warm rush of relief, so fast and full it nearly made her giddy. “Brian. I’m just finishing up with a patient. You be sure to keep that gauze dry,” she said briskly and pulled off her gloves. “And don’t be stingy with the salve.”
