AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Claire lifted to her tip-toes, angling her face to get a better look. “It looks pretty deep. Did it bleed a lot?”
He shrugged. “Some.”
Irritation flashed across her face and Graham held back a grin. This woman was so easy to rile up.
“It could probably use a couple of stitches.”
“Too late now, right?”
Her body stopped moving. “Not necessarily. Don’t you have a suture kit with your camping stuff? For survival emergencies or whatever?”
He did, but he put light pressure against her waist to resume dancing. “We’re not leaving so you can come at me with a needle.”
Her lips pressed in a determined line. “I could probably do it while you’re playing one of your video games and you’d barely notice. You don’t have feelings, anyway, so I don’t see what the problem is.”
He refused to allow the barb to burrow any further than skin-deep and raised his brows. “Whoa, coming at me like that after I swooped in to rescue you?”
“If we’re counting, I’ve intervened on your behalf way more than the other way around. Unlike you, I don’t have a problem speaking my mind and telling a man I’m not interested.”
“Why’d you call me over tonight, then?”
She hesitated, though he couldn’t tell if she didn’t know how to respond or if she simply didn’t want to. “I’m...not sure, actually.”
“Hmm.” He had an inkling.
She stopped again. “Stop trying to distract me. I need to get a better look at that wound and it’s too dark in here. Let’s go.”
“Claire, it’s fine.”
“Do you want it to scar weird? Or get infected?”
“No, but I cleaned it out when we got back to the car. Firefighters are also EMTs, you know.”
“Yeah, well, I’m a nurse practitioner. NP trumps EMT. Let’s go.”
Just two weeks ago he could have argued, but she’d proudly displayed her license on the kitchen table for three whole days when the thing arrived in the mail.
He dropped his hands, frowning at the loss of her body beneath his skin, and sighed. “I’m coming.”
5
After checking in with Reagan, who said she’d get a ride home, Claire and Graham grabbed an Uber back to the condo.
“How many did you have?” Graham asked, closing the front door and flipping on the light.
She stopped and faced him. “I’m sober enough to stitch you up.”
He slid long fingers across his chin. “I’m afraid I need more convincing. This beautiful face is important to me and I don’t want you to mess it up. How many live patients have you practiced on?”
“Six.” Yeah, she’d been terrified for the first three. But by the fourth, she’d gained a decent measure of confidence. “And I’m not even drunk enough to kiss you again. How’s that?”
“Wow, okay. Noted.” He made a beeline for the fridge. “Totally unrelated, do you want a beer?”
Claire ignored him and pulled out a kitchen chair, then flipped on the fixture immediately overhead. “Sit down so I can get a good look.”
He came back with two bottles and a hopeful gleam in his eye. He sat as instructed and tilted his head back.
She leaned down to inspect the wound, which bisected the outer edge of his right eyebrow, the one he often arched at her in consternation. Eyebrows were tricky. At least it wasn’t his lips; lacerations there hardly ever lined up right when they healed. And also, for no other reason at all, at least it wasn’t his lips.
