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Jameson studied the small woman sitting at the table.
Ian wasn’t wrong. She looked pale and exhausted. And while he might have exaggerated about the bleeding since it had mostly stopped, she still needed close watching.
“You really haven’t eaten since this morning?” he asked, moving his fingers to her wrist to take her pulse. It wasn’t a big deal to skip a few meals.
“It’s fine. I often go for long hours without eating. I’m used to it.”
Okay, that he didn’t like. “You’re used to it?” He studied the tips of her fingers. They were shriveled. She was clearly dehydrated.
“Ah, yeah. Sometimes I can go all day without eating. I’m really fine.” She watched him closely as though she couldn’t believe he was real.
He had to tamp down the urge to preen.
Jameson knew he was being an idiot. He was thirty-six-years old. This girl had to be at least ten years younger than him. He couldn’t let her clear admiration go to his head.
She was just a baby.
“No, you’re not fine,” he said in a much firmer voice than he’d intended. “You are dehydrated and tired. Now, eat your food.”
Ian grunted, clearly glad that he was backing him up. Jameson felt a surge of rightness. It had been a long time since he’d felt this protective of someone.
Since he’d felt the urge to take care of and dominate a woman.
Then her lower lip trembled and he had to fight the need to tell her that she could do whatever she wanted as long as she didn’t look at him with such devastation.
Bloody hell. What was wrong with him? He was a doctor. And for years, he’d been a Daddy Dom. He was used to being firm, to doing what was best for someone, even if they might not necessarily see it that way.
Yet one trembling lip and he was willing to give this girl whatever she desired.
“I need sleep,” he muttered.
“Oh no, you’re tired?” she asked.
Funny, all devastation had been wiped off her face. Had she been playing him?
Little brat.
He wiped that thought quickly from his mind. He had no idea if she was a Little or not. And he wasn’t going to find out.
She’s a patient.
Nothing more.
“I’m fine,” he said coolly.
Maggie gave him a confused look.
“I’ve just worked a fourteen-hour shift since one of our doctors is off sick. So I was looking forward to going home to bed.”
“And you got called here to deal with my tiny scratch,” she said understandingly, pulling her foot from his lap. “I get it. You should go home and rest. All this needs is a Band-Aid. Like I said.” She glared at Ian.
She was a brave Little thing to take on Ian. Grown men had been known to cower when he frowned at them.
Ian glared back at her. She just wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue at him. Jameson let out a surprised bark of laughter.
She turned to smile at him happily.
Fuck. What was he doing?
