Chapter 6
DANNY
My forearm throbs under the temporary bandage I’ve wrapped around it. Not as much as my dick throbs, though, as I cross the parking lot to the hospital’s ER. It’s been bitching at me for the past week – since the elevator – and now it’s happy as a fucking clam.
No. I didn’t deliberately cut myself just for an excuse to see Holly again.
I can walk up a flight of steps and do that if I want.
But I was thinking about her as I picked up the shards of glass off the floor behind the bar, instead of concentrating on what I was doing, and fell into the middle of the mess when someone from behind gave me an accidental nudge.
So I don’t have anyone else to blame.
It’s actually not that bad, despite the bar owner’s cold sweat over a potential lawsuit.
It could probably do with a few stitches, but I’ve had worse.
Normally, I wouldn’t bother anyone with it – just tape it up and leave it for a few days.
But the universe just handed me a perfect excuse to bother Holly, and I take it with both hands, even if it is two in the morning.
It’s a relief to finally walk inside the hospital.
The blizzard may have blown itself out days ago, but it’s still as cold as fuck.
I haven’t missed the winters here, how the air stabs like icicles in my lungs.
A blast of heat at the entrance doors welcomes me, and I unzip my parka with my good hand.
I follow the signs for triage, the antiseptic smell of the place enveloping me. It seems quiet to my untrained eye. It’s early hours of the morning, I suppose, but I figure the time of day doesn’t matter a whole lot in an ER.
I come to a desk, and there’s an efficient-looking black woman, mid-thirties, at a computer in a pair of scrubs.
Her name tag tells me she’s Trisha. I smile at her, which is usually guaranteed to melt most women – Holly being the exception.
This woman too, apparently, as she looks me up and down, obviously not impressed.
‘How can I help?’
I know instinctively that if I present my arm I’ll probably spend half the night in the chairs, so I keep my injury below the raised ledge of the desk. ‘I’d like to see Dr Vincent.’
I know she’s working tonight. She left just before me in her regular work clothes, her stethoscope hanging from her fingers.
‘And who might you be?’
‘Danny. Colton. I’m a neighbour. She’ll want to see me.’ That’s a lie. I have no idea whether she’ll see me or not, but I’m hoping she will. I hope she considers the hospital neutral ground for us. I hope she’s as desperate as I am for more than a glimpse.
‘Why don’t we let Dr Vincent be the judge of that?’ Trisha picks up a phone, her eyes firmly trained on me. ‘There’s a guy called Danny Colton, says he’s your neighbour, asking for you.’
The woman nods twice, then puts the phone back on the cradle. She tips her chin in the direction of some doors and says, ‘Go through.’
I smile at Trisha, who ignores me, but I barely register the snub as I start towards the doors.
I push them as I get near enough, and they open into a large space with a central workstation lapped by a bunch of mostly empty gurneys parked in bays around the perimeter of the room.
The lights are dim, and there’s not a lot of bustle going on here.
‘Danny?’
I turn to find Holly coming at me from a dark corridor. She’s in scrubs, her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, and her stethoscope, which is slung around her neck now, swings a little against her tits as she strides closer.
It’s hot as fuck. She’s hot as fuck, all capable and confident.
In the elevator, she’d been in my domain, totally out of her depth. Here, the shoe is on the other foot. She’s the one in charge, she’s the boss, and my cock roars to life again. Not even her frowny face has an effect. She’s obviously annoyed at my presence, but goddamn if that’s not a turn on too.
She’s the perfect woman right now – sexy, pissed off, powerful. And I want inside those scrubs so fucking hard.
‘What do you want?’ she demands, her voice low and short, as she crosses her arms. ‘I have paperwork up to my eyeballs.’
‘Well, see…’ I lean in and lower my voice. ‘I have this dildo shoved up my ass, and I can’t seem to get it out, Doc.’
‘Danny.’
Her voice brooks no argument, and it’s like an electrical charge to my balls. I chuckle as I straighten, loving the flash of annoyance in her amber eyes.
‘I think this needs stitching.’ I drag my arm from behind my back. Some blood has seeped through the bandage.
The fact I seem to have a legitimate reason to be here does not improve her mood. ‘What did you do?’
‘Cut it on some glass.’
She sighs. ‘Fine. You’re lucky we’re in a lull right now. Follow me.’
Yes, ma’am. Fuck, I’d follow her right into hell at this particular moment.
I trail her ramrod frame as it briskly covers the distance to the nearest gurney. Even in slightly baggy scrubs, I can make out her ass, and I wonder if those pants just pull down. Her ponytail brushes between her shoulder blades in a hypnotic swing.
‘Sit here.’ She gestures to the empty gurney. ‘I’ll get some stuff and get Trisha started on the paperwork.’
She strides off again, and I watch her until she disappears, turned on by just the motion of her.
I sit on the thin mattress and dangle my legs over the edge.
The clinical smell of the place works deeper into my nostrils as I wait for Holly’s return.
I hear low voices, a grizzling baby, a mechanical pinging noise, and then she’s back.
With equipment.
Bustling around, setting things up. I could watch her all night.
Her quiet efficiency keeps my desire on a low simmer and my hard-on raging.
I have no idea when efficiency became such a fuckin’ turn on, but my dick is hard as stone watching her brisk, methodical movements.
Or maybe it’s just the scrubs and the stethoscope.
Finally she sits on a stool and uses her feet to roll it close to me as she snaps on some green gloves. The snap zips straight up my spine.
‘Let’s see it.’ She holds out her hand, all business.
Lust churns in my gut, as does the urge to rile her up. ‘You want me to pull the curtains, Doc?’
She shoots me a no-nonsense look. ‘I think they’ll be just fine open, thank you.’
I grin, and she ignores me as she quickly unwinds the bandage.
She squirts some saline on the wound, which has stopped oozing now.
She’s quick and thorough as she wipes at the old blood with some gauze.
Once it’s clean, she angles the lamp to examine the cut.
Luckily my tats don’t extend to my forearms, which makes visualisation easier.
‘What kind of glass was it?’
‘Beer bottle.’
She gives a soft snort, and I suppress a smile as she inspects the site, her head bent over it, her profile glowing in the lamp light.
Her hair smells sweet, like maple syrup, and my mouth waters.
She shuts her eyes and feels inside and along the edges for what I assume might be retained glass fragments.
It’s sore, but my balls ache worse as the V of her scrub top gapes a little, and the bell of her stethoscope brushes the slight swell of her cleavage. I want to play doctor with her so fucking bad.
She lifts her head. ‘Probably needs four or five stitches.’
I smell coffee on her breath. ‘Okay.’
‘When did you last have a tetanus shot?’
‘About two years ago with my last lot of stitches.’
She looks both curious about those stitches – left calf – and disappointed she’s not going to get to jab me in the ass.
‘I’ll just wash up.’
She disappears, then comes back a couple of minutes later drying off wet hands. Within two minutes she’s gloved and I’m draped, a patch of hair has been shaved around the site, and I’m all numbed up. She gets to work with the stitching, barely saying a word to me except for simple directions.
How can she be so cool when I’m running so fucking hot?
‘So you were boozing?’
I laugh at her emphasis on boozing, like drinking’s another sin she’s added to the mental list she’s compiling to keep me at bay.
‘One beer at the end of the gig when this happened.’ She sniffs a little, but doesn’t make further comment.
‘It might hurt to use your sticks the next few days.’
‘I’ll manage.’ I dismiss her concern – it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve played injured. ‘Unless you want to come and supervise me. My own personal physician.’
The curved needle stops, poised above the ragged edges of the cut, and she glances up, the same flare of interest I’d seen in the elevator burning brief and bright before it’s gone.
‘Can’t. Working the next three nights.’
I shrug. ‘You’re welcome any time.’
‘Nights aren’t good for me.’
Her eyes seem to say, neither are you. But I’m done with pansy-assed excuses. I know she wants me, I’ve just seen it in her eyes, for fuck’s sake. ‘Maybe I could give you a demo in the morning? You could drop in for breakfast. I make awesome pancakes.’
I don’t know whether it’s her hair, but I have maple syrup on the brain. I try not to think about pulling up that scrub top and pouring the sweet, sticky stuff all over her tits.
I am not in the least bit successful.
Her eyes flare a little more, as if she can see the pictures inside my head. ‘No.’ She lowers her gaze and pushes the needle through the skin. I feel a dull pressure, but nothing else.
‘Mornings not good, either?’
She ties off the stitch and sighs, her frame losing some of its stiffness. ‘I already told you, we can’t do this.’
‘Right. I’m not part of your plan.’
Sitting back, she looks at me directly. I try to keep my focus on her face and not the way the stethoscope nestles in that valley between the boobs I love so much.
‘I have several more years left in my residency. If I pass. I’m having breakfast with my textbooks for the next few years.’
‘So?’ I shrug. ‘Bring them with you. You gotta eat, right?’