“I’m fine . . . sorry, what was your name again?”
“Kayla. Kayla Kincade.” The nurse stares down at me with big brown eyes flecked with gold. She’s hot, there’s no denying it, and I decide right here and now that she’ll be my entertainment while I’m sentenced to this hospital bed. A man needs a project. Maybe some kind of payback for that roadkill comment. Smartass.Fine ass. I nearly break my neck as she bends over to pick something up off the floor. My suspicions were correct; she has one tight posterior. I just got a bird’s-eye view of a perfect, heart-shaped backside. I might’ve actually gotten an erection if I didn’t have this damn catheter shoved in my dick.
“If you need anything, hit the button.”
“I need to get the fuck out of here,” I reply irritably. “Can you help me with that?”
“Only if I have discharge papers.”
“Can we forge some?”
“Maybe we can just pass you off as Dev and sneak you out.”
Now, this chick is talking.
“Sounds like a plan. What do we need?” I perk up.
Kayla crosses her arms haughtily. “Me, nothing. You, a medical degree and two working legs.”
“Ugh.” I bang my head on the pillow. Fucking cock tease.
“Face it, moto. You’re stuck with me for a while.”
I swipe my eyes up to hers. I like this girl. She’s got spunk.
“I guess there could be worse people to be stuck with. At least you’re easy on the eyes.”
“I do what I can, where I can.” She breathes out sardonically.
“I have a few things you can do,” I blatantly insinuate.
She straightens her stance. “I think I’ve done plenty already, don’t you?” She gets testy, most definitely insinuating she saved my sorry ass.
“I’m an indulgent kind of guy. Enough is never enough.”
“I believe it.” Kayla glances around the room. It looks like a florist threw up in here. Big bright flower arrangements pour over every flat surface. A few from my managers and sponsors, but a majority are from adoring fans.Female fans.
What can I say; I’m a popular guy, on and off the track. I’ve been blessed with exceptional hand-eye coordination, and I’m intelligent enough to use it in a multitude of ways.
5
Kayla
This guy is an egotistical gearhead with motor oil for brains. As if I would do anything besides take his vitals. I’m not saying I need it, but at the very least, some gratitude for saving his stinkin’ life would be, if nothing more, polite.
In the twenty-four plus hours I’ve known him, I’m positive if he wasn’t chained to that hospital bed, he’d be walking around like a fucking peacock. Ear-piercing mating call and all.
The audacity of some people. World fame can really bring out the best, I see. I inwardly scowl. As much as I’d like to tell Reese Dane where he can stick that cocky attitude, I’ll maintain my professional façade. If for no other reason than to avoid a blemish on my record, or worse, being fired altogether.
“I’ll leave you alone with your suggestive thoughts.” I update the whiteboard just as Dr. Lipschitz enters the room. Perfect. He’s just as big an asshole as his patient is; they should hit it off beautifully.
Before I can escape, Dr. Lipschitz motions for me to stay.
Fuck. I know why; he’s going to examine Reese’s thigh wound and make sure everything is copacetic.
Too bad he can’t sew his mouth shut while he’s at it.
The doctor and I flank Reese’s bed as he pulls his gown up to look at the stitches. As much as I would love to look anyplace else other than Reese Dane’s inner thigh, I find myself grossly intrigued with his muscular physique and complex tattoo.
