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“Stop that,” Ian grumbled. “You’re not a bother. And you’re worth everything.”
She huffed out a breath. “Fine. Fine. I’m worth all the bothers. Let’s just . . . get this done with. Please?”
“Good girl,” he told her. “If you’re brave, I might have something for you after the MRI.”
Her eyes lit up as excitement filled her face. “For me?”
Jameson couldn’t help but feel a surge of happiness and pride at putting that look on her face. Although he hoped she wasn’t disappointed by what he had planned. “Yep.”
“Get her out,”Ian barked, pacing up and down the small room that he, Ian, and the technician were crowded into while Maggie was in the MRI machine.
“We can’t get her out, she’s halfway through.” Amy, the technician, rolled her eyes at Jameson. “What’s up with the big brute?”
“I’m her bodyguard,” Ian said. “And she’s clearly scared.”
She was. They could all hear her through the speaker, but only Jameson could speak to her.
“Maggie? How are you doing, sweetheart?” Jameson asked.
“A-all right. I guess. Is it almost done?”
The wobble in her voice nearly undid him.
“Let me speak to her,” Ian demanded, looking like he would wrestle control of the audio system away from him if necessary.
Jameson shot him a look. “No.”
Ian clenched his jaw.
“Don’t diminish the strength she’s already shown. She’s come this far. She’s being so courageous. If you pull her out now, it will undo all of that, and you know it.”
“Yikes, Doc. It’s getting steamy in here,” Amy said, fanning herself. She grinned when he glared at her.
Amy was born in the US but had moved here several years ago with her now-husband.
“Just didn’t know you could be so commanding.” Amy winked at Jameson.
“J-Jameson?”
Fuck. “I’m here, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I just had to talk Ian off a ledge.”
“What?” she asked, sounding shocked.
“He’s just being bossy, as usual. I’ve been looking into therapists for him.”
Ian shot him the bird.
“That’s good. He really needs it. And w-while you’re doing that. Tell the t-therapist that he thinks his hand has a-a brain.”
“He thinks his hand has a brain?” He glanced back at Ian, who rolled his eyes.
“It keeps wanting to . . . you know,” she said.
“No, please elaborate. What does Ian’s hand keep wanting to do?”
Amy let out a giggle as Ian gave him an exasperated look.
“Spank me.”
