Emerson shrugged. “Word on the street is that the two of you were seen canoodling.”
“Canoodling? How old are you? Seventy?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Hardly. Zinnia saw the two of you chatting. Then you moved to leave and the doctor…” He rolled his lower lip between his teeth suggestively. “Let’s say he prevented you from going. So, are you going to tell me what happened? Are you two an item?”
River rolled her eyes, but it did nothing to fight the tension coiling in her lower belly. That moment had taken her off guard. Feeling his hands on her had done something to alter her brain chemistry, and she still couldn’t shake it. She ducked back beneath the mower. “He saved me from a rake.”
Emerson laughed again. “You expect me to believe that?”
“Believe what you will, Emerson. I don’t have anything to explain to you or anyone. Nothing is happening between us.”
“Is that why he asked Rose where he could build a chicken coop for you?”
She couldn’t help it. Her head snapped up, but some part of her brain forgot she was under a piece of equipment and her forehead collided with something sharp. River muttered at herself for being careless and brought her fingertips to the spot. Then she groaned upon seeing the blood.
“You okay?”
When she didn’t respond, he moved, crouching down at her side. Then, without warning, he grabbed her cheek and turned her face towards his.
Emerson sucked in a breath and his fingers hovered over the gash that was just above her eyebrow. “You need to let the doctor take care of that.”
“Absolutely not.”
Her friend gave her a flat look. “I don’t care that you have a crush on him. Rose doesn’t either. In fact, I think she’s been wanting this to happen.”
“There is nothis!” River snapped, her fingers grazing the cut.
“You’re gonna need a butterfly bandage at the very least. And either you go see him or I bring him here.”
River gripped his wrist. “Don’t you dare.”
The look he gave her made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t making an idle threat.
So, with an exasperated sigh, she got to her feet. Out of nowhere, Emerson produced a rag.
“Press it to the wound.”
She scowled at him. This was his fault. If he hadn’t been getting in her head, she wouldn’t have yet another injury that the good-looking doctor had to fix up.
Emerson had been right. River found Mathew setting up a workstation around the side of the house near the stairs that led to the apartment above the garage. There were piecesof plywood, planks of two-by-fours, chicken wire, and an assortment of tools.
Mathew was distracted by what appeared to be some schematics or blueprints for the coop when he glanced up at her.
Immediately, his expression went from happy to see her to concerned, then to irritated. “What happened?” he demanded in that assertive tone that made her weak in the knees.
She tried to laugh him off. “It’s nothing. Just need a Band-Aid. Or maybe a butterfly closure?”
His eyebrows lowered, and he reached for the rag she had pressed to her head. When he pulled it off, there was no reaction. He worked in the ER, so of course he wouldn’t flinch at the sight of blood. “Your stitches in your hand aren’t even healed yet. Are you a magnet for trouble?”
River lifted a shoulder. “Apparently only when there’s a hot doctor at my beck and call.”
The way his scorching gaze landed on her made her whole body warm. Why did she just say that? She could feel the flush rising to her face. That couldn’t be good, right? She needed the blood away from the wound.
Looking away, she pulled her lower lip between her teeth and chewed on it before she said something else she might regret.
“You have three options. Stitches…”
“Stitches? Again?” she bit out. “You can’t be serious.”
