by Sandy James
“Thanks. That’s very considerate.” He pulled the bandage away, looking for where to toss it.
“Let me take that.” Josie tossed it in a biohazard container. Then she began to assemble the supplies into some order that probably made sense to her. One of the packages she opened first had tan gloves that she put on with more care than she had the purple pair.
Russ carefully removed his stained polo, donned the scrub shirt, and then sat back on the gurney.
As soft as the brush of the breeze, she touched the wound. “Are you sure you don’t want a plastic surgeon to take a look? It’s a fairly big gash, and a plastic surgeon will probably leave less of a scar.”
“Can’t you just staple the stupid thing shut?” He glanced up at her.
How had he not noticed those chocolate-brown eyes before? Or her scent? Something floral and terribly enticing.
“Staples would leave a really nasty scar,” she replied. “If you don’t want a plastic surgeon…” She cocked an eyebrow.
“Nope.”
“Then let me see if I can do better with some tiny stitches. Just relax. I’ll have you put back together in a jiffy.”
With practiced ease, she went about getting everything ready. After she injected the area with lidocaine, something he hadn’t wanted but she’d assured him he needed, she started working on him.
Zoning out so he didn’t have to think about what she was doing, Russ focused on the woman who was so close to him that her breasts kept bumping against his arm. Although he was aware that she was Savannah’s best friend, he knew little else about Joslynn Wright. His fault, because he’d all but avoided going anyplace with Brad and Savannah when he knew that Josie was going to be there too. That tack had stemmed from Savannah trying to play matchmaker, always chatting Josie up and telling Russ what a great couple the two of them would make.
Hell with that.
The last thing he needed in his fucked-up life was a girlfriend, especially one who was so close to his partner’s wife.
But in a moment of honesty, he acknowledged that he remembered the first time he’d seen her with incredible clarity. The afternoon before the Maxwells’ wedding rehearsal, he’d been striding across the pool deck, aiming for the tiki bar. A woman had been slowly ascending the elaborate pool’s marble staircase. The sunlight had hit her perfectly, and damn if she hadn’t looked like a goddess emerging from a forest pond. Her posture was perfect—spine straight as an arrow, shoulders square.
As he’d taken in her slender body, his mouth had gone dry. High, firm breasts. Slim waist. Just enough muscle to look athletic and utterly feminine. She’d been dressed in a red bikini that was tasteful, yet still enticing, and she sported a small tattoo of an orange butterfly—it peeked out of the bikini top just enough to see it on her left breast—over her heart.
He’d made up his mind to try to get to know her better—up until the moment Savannah had introduced her and Russ had realized this was the woman she’d been trying to push on him.
Gorgeous or not, trying to date her hadn’t seemed worth the aggravation.
Now, he wasn’t so sure.
The navy-blue scrubs and white lab coat she wore hid that delectable shape, which helped him get a grip on his rampant imagination. Just because Josie was appealing to him didn’t make the situation any less perilous. He had no business becoming infatuated with this woman. With any woman…
Not with the dismal future he had in store.
She looked down at him, brows kit. “You doing okay? Awfully quiet there.”
“Just patch me up, okay?” Russ snapped. He was immediately contrite. His fascination with her bothered him, but that didn’t entitle him to take his irritation out of her.
The way she narrowed her dark eyes told him she’d caught his tone. “Alrighty, then…”
He had to hand it to her, Josie was efficient. She’d thoroughly cleaned and then stitched the wound up quickly. “Done,” she announced.
Probably a good thing for Russ, because the more time he spent with her, the more he started to wonder if Savannah had been right all along—that this woman might be worth getting to know.
He needed to get out of there.
Then he remembered the manners his mom had beaten into his thick head. “Thanks, Josie.”
* * *
“My pleasure.” Joslynn started to gather up the discarded wrappers and used supplies. She’d lost track of how many stitches she’d put in place, because she’d done her damnedest to keep them small and even.
A good job, if she did say so herself.
“When do I get them pulled?” Russ asked, jumping off the gurney.
“You don’t,” she replied. “These will absorb. I also sealed them with skin adhesive. Just don’t pick at it. It’ll peel off when it’s ready.”
“So I can shower?”
She nodded and then pointed to the gurney. “Have a seat. You might as well make yourself comfortable because you need the nurse to come and give you discharge instructions, and I think a quick concussion screening might—”
“Nope. Don’t have time for that.”
“You’re already here. You might as well—”
“I have to get back to work.” He picked up the bloodstained polo and tossed it into the trash.
Getting angry at his crappy attitude, she didn’t press the point about a possible concussion. It wasn’t as though someone had smashed a chair over his head. A screening wasn’t necessary. “There’s paperwork—”
“I’ve had enough stitches to know what to do.” The scars she’d seen before he’d put on the scrubs added weight to his claim but didn’t excuse his rude dismissal. “Besides, you just told me how to take care of them.”
She hadn’t meant to stare when he’d taken off his bloody shirt. But as he’d changed to the scrubs, she’d gotten a healthy view of his torso. Scars. So many scars. His chest. His back. Right shoulder surgery—probably more than one.
Sweet Lord, what kind of hell had Russell Green been through?
It wasn’t at all like her to notice a guy’s body in any way except clinically, but she hadn’t been able to stop from gawking at his arms. His biceps were well developed, straining the sleeves of the scrub shirt. She found herself wondering what kind of sports he played. Football? Soccer? He had what she called a “rugby body”—muscular, sturdy, and exactly what she liked.
With a shake of her head, Joslynn resisted the urge to wag her finger at him as if she were scolding a naughty child. “At the very least, you have to sign the release paperwork.” To give him something to do, she popped up the mirror that was built into the patient table. “Want a peek?”
Russ actually came over to see the stitches. After a good, long look, he grinned. “Nice job, doc.”
“I’m not a doctor.”
“You did better than most probably could.” To her great surprise, he kissed her on the cheek. “See you later, Josie.”
And he was gone before she could regain enough of her wits to stop him.
Francie came strolling through the open door. “I guess he was in a hurry, huh?” she asked, watching him jog out of double doors to the waiting area. Then she shifted her gaze to Joslynn. “You okay, Jos?”
Her hand fell away from her cheek. She hadn’t even realized that she’d been touching the spot he’d kissed. “Fine. And yes, he was obviously ready to depart from our exceptional hospitality.”
Francie chuckled. “They always hate waiting on the paperwork.” She shuffled through the yellow discharge papers. “Want me to shred them?”
Joslynn’s first response would have been to do just that, but she couldn’t get past Russ’s rude exit.
A better idea popped into her head, and a slow smile bloomed. “You know what? Please put them in an envelope. I’m going to make sure Mr. Green receives them. In person.”
About the Author
Sandy lives in a quiet suburb of Indianapolis and is a high school psychology teacher. She owns a small s
table of harness racehorses and enjoys spending time at Hoosier Park racetrack. She has been an Amazon #1 bestseller multiple times and has won numerous awards including two HOLT Medallions.
Learn more at:
sandyjames.com
Twitter @sandyjamesbooks
Facebook.com/sandyjamesbooks
Acknowledgments
To my talented, insightful editor, Lexi Smail. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
As I say—repeatedly—I’d be up the proverbial creek without my main critique partner, Cheryl Brooks. Love you!
Thanks, as always, to my wonderful agent, Danielle Egan-Miller!
I wouldn’t have survived this last year without my family, each and every one of them. Please know how much I appreciate all your love and support!
Also by Sandy James
Nashville Dreams series
Can’t Walk Away
The Ladies Who Lunch series
The Bottom Line
Signed, Sealed, Delivered
Sealing the Deal
Fringe Benefits
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