“You’re a doctor?” Hartley asks, surprised.
“No,” I say, before correcting myself. “Yes. I have a doctorate. But I’m not a doctor-doctor. I can’t give out medication or sew people shut.” I glance down at the cut, and my stomach roils.
Brooks sighs. “Are you a doctor? Yes or no?”
“Brooks …”
“And you can sew, right?” he asks. “Didn’t you say you were hanging out with a needle and thread?”
I see where this is going, and I feel like I boarded the wrong ride. I wanted the happy teacups, and somehow, I ended up on a roller coaster. He seriously thinks I can sew his arm shut.
I’m going to vomit.
My gaze drags up his arm, over his chest, and to his eyes. He’s peering down at me without the panic or fear that would be expected—and would be smart. He’s way too cool about this. He’s entirely too casual for someone dripping blood on his boots.
“Fix me up, Doc. Save me a thousand bucks from Urgent Care.” He juts out his bottom lip. “Please?”
I laugh, but it’s more out of shock than amusement. “Brooks, really, I would, but I don’t know how. I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m not qualified.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” he says witha lotof misplaced confidence in me.
I look helplessly at Hartley, only to find him grinning.
“You got this?” he asks me.
“No.” I snort-laugh, wondering if they’re pranking me. “You think he should go to an emergency room, right? Talk some sense into him.”
“If you haven’t learned by now, Audrey, there is no talking sense to Brooks.”
Oh, crap.I turn my attention back to my new patient and wince. “You really want me to do this?”
“Yeah. And hopefully before I bleed out, if you don’t mind.”
Hartley waits for my signal that I’m game before putting his truck in drive. “I’ll swing by the cabin and pick you up after I get this post in. Sound good?”
“Yup,” Brooks says, turning toward the cabin.
“I mean … sure?” I ask, much to Hartley’s amusement. “What happens if I kill him?”
“Then there will probably be a parade.” He gives me a reassuring smile before pulling away.
“Let’s go, Doc,” Brooks says over his shoulder. “I mean, we can wait until I pass out, but you’ll have to give me mouth-to-mouth.”
His eyes twinkle as they meet mine. How can someone be so sexy with blood splattered on their shirt?
I hurry to catch up. We walk side by side, my body tingling at its proximity to his. Now and then, his shoulder brushes mine or his uninjured arm contacts my side. And every time that happens, my hands grow shakier. That’s unhelpful when I’m about to perform surgery.
Brooks opens the cabin door and waits for me to enter first. As soon as I step inside, my anxiety spirals.
“I mean it,” I say, as he closes the door behind him. “I have no idea what I’m doing. You should probably rethink this. I can drive you to town, and we can find someone who has done this before.”
He reaches up with his clean hand and hovers his fingertip over my lips without touching them. “You gotta believe in yourself a little bit.” He pulls his hand away. “We need a needle, thread, and some peroxide.” He glances down again and inspects his wound. “Maybe some tape.”
“Tape?” I yelp.
My horror amuses him. “Grab the needle and thread. That’s all you need to focus on right now. I’ll handle the rest.”
“What the heck is happening here?” I whisper, my head spinning like a top. I gather my needle and the two colors of thread I brought—one pink and one green. “Where do you want to do this illegal surgical procedure?”
