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Their conversation was cut short by Lynn entering the room. To her credit, the nice doctor didn’t acknowledge how inappropriate it was for her to be in one of the exam rooms. It occurred to her that Lynn might think he was a friend.
Before she really thought about it, Barbara announced crisply, “We have an accidental gunshot wound to the right thigh. I haven’t seen the wound, but our patient reports it’s not hurting yet because of the endorphins and stuff.”
That earned her a smile from her quiet friend. “That will probably change once I begin working on it, so I’m going to give him a local anesthetic.”
“That’s a really good idea.” Barbara’s voice sounded more enthusiastic than she’d intended.
“Well, it’s standard operating procedure for a wound that needs stitched shut.”
“We should hurry because we don’t want him to be in pain.” Shooting her friend a knowing look, she reminded her of their lunch date. “You and I have thatotherappointment to get to.”
Lynn’s face froze into an almost smile, and Barbara could tell she was forcing herself not to laugh over her eagerness to get lunch. Lynn immediately started working on the man’s leg, while Barbara tried not to look. The sight of blood always made her feel faint. Just the thought of seeing an open wound was enough to make her light-headed. Their patient must have intuited her queasiness, because he grabbed her hand.
“I just need a little moral support. You don’t mind, do you?”
Biting her bottom lip, she thought it over for a moment. After deciding he fell squarely into the doable-once-he-healed-up category, she nodded. “I’m good at holding hands and a whole lot more.”
“Such as?” The faint amusement in his voice prompted her to wonder what he thought she meant. When it finally hit her, her mouth fell open. He was taking her comment totally the wrong way.
Searching her mind for a reply that didn’t sound like something a second grader would come up with to cover their social faux pas, she stammered, “I can be supportive to an injured man. I can fluff pillows, fetch drinks, make sure he takes his meds and things like that.”
“Well, you’re hired.”
“That’s a nice offer. Unfortunately, I already have a job.”
Rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, he murmured, “I guarantee you’d like working for me better.”
“I don’t doubt that for a second, but I have a rule about working a job for at least one year before I move on. Unfortunately, I’ve only been at my current job for five months.”
“You’re breaking my heart, doc.”
The low-level flirting came easily and continued as Lynn did her thing. It made the time fly by, and even the talkative stranger seemed surprised when the last bandage was taped into place.
Lynn shoved her glasses up her nose, like she was prone to do, and carefully explained his discharge directions. Watching her friend leave the room without a backward glance, Barbra saw the good doctor paused for a brief moment to punch the door lock closed before she closed the door quietly behind her.
That was clearly the go ahead for her to spend a private moment talking to him. Glancing down, Barbara noticed his privacy drape had shifted. She pointed it out discretely. “You’re hanging out. I can tuck it back into the side of your pants if you like.”
“Fucking hell, the two you just let me sit here with my dick hanging out and didn’t say a word.”
Pressing her lips together to avoid smiling, Barbara struggled to keep a straight face. “Dr. Snyder put that modesty drape over your body, so she wasn’t staring him the eye or anything.”
Trying unsuccessfully to jam it back into his pants, he grumbled, “You’re a real funny lady. The last thing in the world bikers are is modest. I’ve seen every brother’s junk more times than I can count. Of course, most times they had a whore’s mouth wrapped around it.”
Jerking back a bit, Barbara let that little nugget of information sink in. “Is that what women are to you, whores?”
“What? Of course not.” He glanced up at her, looking a bit scandalized.
“Yeah, well, I don’t like that word.”
“That’s only because you think being a whore is something to be ashamed of or an insult of some sort. Where I come from, a whore is simply a woman who trades sex for being taken care of by our club. There’s no shame in it, and we aren’t particularly disrespectful to our whores.”
Shoving at his member roughly, he finally got it out of view. “Those damn ambulance drivers don’t give a shit how much of a man’s clothing they cut off. It’s damn hard to stay modest, even if I wanted to in a situation like this.”
Tracing her finger along the edge of his bandage, she noticed that his now-clean skin felt velvety soft over this hard, muscular thigh. “They were just trying to get access to your…umm…wound.”
“Fuck the wound. You keep on touching me like that and he’s gonna pop right back out.”
Looking into his eyes, she murmured, “We wouldn’t want that.”
