Chapter 4 Red Flags and Stitches
Red Flags and Stitches
HORSE
Ilean back on the gurney in the local ER and look at the woman who walks in with dark blue scrubs on.
It’s a damn shame because I miss her slutty little Christmas outfit.
Her hair has gone from sex-hair to a high ponytail.
It’s still beautiful, but I have to say the sex-hair is my favorite—especially if I can be the man who gives it to her.
She’s got one of those white medical coats over her scrubs, and there’s an ID badge on it that catches my eye immediately.
Her picture is on the laminated tag, and below that is the name Gwen Murphy, APRN.
Seems the woman I want is gorgeous and smart.
“Where’s your dog?” I ask, drinking her in slowly and liking every damn thing I see.
Gwen looks up at me, and those blue-gray eyes of hers seem to assess everything about me quickly and methodically.
I can’t help but wonder if I live up to whatever she’s trying to judge me against. “I asked one of the volunteers to take Baby to the children’s wing and let him work his magic there,” she explains.
I grin. “Damn. I can’t call you Holly, and now I can’t call you baby. It will confuse your poor dog.”
“Well, I’m not calling you Horse, Mr. Gates.” I frown, wishing I hadn’t had to register when I got here. I hate being called by my father’s last name.
“I’d prefer Horse.”
“Not happening,” she says stubbornly.
“Then, call me Wyatt,” I compromise.
“I’m going to stitch up the graze on your stomach. The bullet just nicked you, but the wound needs some help to close. I’m going to start you on an antibiotic. I want you to take every pill. Don’t skip it. The last thing your body needs right now is to stave off an infection.”
“I like it when you’re all demanding and full of authority. That’s new for me. I usually like my women more pliable,” I murmur.
“That’s definitely not me,” she says, “but since I’m not one of your women, neither of us needs to worry about that, now do we?”
“You aren’t yet, but you will be,” I respond at once.
She gives me a smirk, shaking her head before she starts concentrating on the job in front of her. “Keep it up and I’ll have them do a scan to make sure you don’t have a concussion, because now you’re talking out of your head.”
“Here I thought you rode in the ambulance to the hospital because you were worried about me.”
“I hate to wound your very fragile ego, but I just saw a free ride to work,” she murmurs. “Now, this is going to sting, but it should numb you so that I can stitch you up.”
“I can handle it without the numbing, Gwen.”
“Not on my watch, Wyatt,” she grumbles in return—sounding very put out with me.
“Do you know who was taking a shot at you or were you truthful to the cops when we got here?” she asks, surprising me.
I cock my eyebrow up and look at her, acting as if I’m insulted.
Instead of caving—as most people do—she just returns my stare.
I know I’m a pretty imposing figure. I haven’t met a man or woman that I couldn’t intimidate.
Apparently, my little Christmas Gwen is immune to me.
The reality of that makes me grin. “Hello? Earth to big bad biker jerk.”
My grin turns into a frown. “I’m not a jerk.”
“You decided to call me Holly because my name wasn’t good enough for you. That makes you a jerk.”
“I took a bullet to protect you,” I point out—not really serious but wanting to know what she’ll say.
“I’ve been thinking about that. Do you know that before I met you, I never had one person even shoot a gun around me?”
“Is that a fact?” I drawl.
“It is, and do you know what?”
“What?” I ask, fighting my smile once again.
“I’m just wondering how many times you’ve been shot at.”
“Would you believe me if I told you this was the first time?” I practically purr.
“Not at all,” she laughs. Her attention moves back to my stomach. She presses into my wound, her beautiful eyes staring into mine—full of concern. “Does that hurt?”
“Not at all,” I murmur, repeating the words she just used. I watch her lips slide into a smile. There’s a light in her eyes now that I could quickly become addicted to. It makes the grayish-blue hue they normally are turn almost lavender.
She’s fucking beautiful.
“If it starts hurting, let me know. I’m thinking it’s going to take about nine stitches,” she mumbles, her eyes on my wound and not where I want them—staring at me so I can see their beauty.
“Have dinner with me tonight, Gwen.”
“Why would I do that, Wyatt?”
“Because you want to,” I croon.
Her eyes finally move back to mine, and I’m rewarded with a smile that lights them up. God, she’s so fucking beautiful it is almost painful. I want to hold that beauty in my hands, taste it on my tongue, chain it to my fucking bed.
“You didn’t warn me you were psychic and could tell what I wanted before I could figure it out myself. It’s a true gift you have there, Wyatt.”
“I’m very talented in that way. Wait until I have time to show you my other skills. I think you will find them even more … impressive.”
She lets out a wry chuckle, shaking her head as she goes back to stitching my wound. “You really are something, Wyatt. I haven’t determined what that something is just yet though.”
“Have dinner with me, and I’ll tell you.”
“I shouldn’t. You’re a patient. That’s kind of a violation of ethics.”
“You’re stitching me up. You’re not my lawyer or my marriage counselor.”
“Are you married?” she asks, making me smile. Her question shows me she’s at least curious about me.
“If I were married, I wouldn’t be asking you out, Gwen. I am not that kind of man.”
“That kind of man?” she repeats, although it sounds like a question. It’s almost as if she’s tasting the words on her tongue.
“The kind who wants you in their bed and will do damn near anything to achieve that goal. I would be that man if there was a woman already laying her head on the pillow beside me every night.”
I hear the excited inhale and slow exhale of breath at my words. I don’t break eye contact with her. I need her to see the truth of my statement. I want her to know I’m more serious about this—about her—than I’ve been about anything I can remember, with the exception of my son Caleb.
“Just dinner,” Gwen murmurs.
“What time do you get off work?” I ask, not bothering to respond. She’s agreeing to dinner, but if I can get more from her than just dinner, I will fucking push for it.
Her forehead scrunches as she finishes the last stitch. “I only work until four today because I work a double tomorrow. Why?” she asks, taking off her gloves and pulling her gaze away from her handiwork.
“I’ll pick you up at four and take you home so you can change and get ready.”
“That’s not necessary,” she replies, already shaking her head no.
“It is. I’ll take your dog with me, too.”
“Um … no.”
“You can’t keep him here all day. I’ve never worked in a hospital, but I can’t imagine they want you to bring your pet to work. I also doubt you can break away on a second’s notice to walk him for a potty break. I can take excellent care of him and make sure he’s with me when I pick you up.”
“I don’t know you. Why should I trust you with a piece of my heart?”
I grin at her. “Because you know I’ll cherish it because I want all of your heart. I want you to place it in my hands, and I’m going to prove that to you.”
“You don’t know me, and you’re kind of sounding insane.”
“C’mon, Gwen. Give me one chance.”
“I have three conditions,” she breathes, her voice little more than a whisper, but somehow firm, too.
“Hit me.”
“First, my dog is with you when you pick me up, and he better be healthy and happy.”
“Goes without saying. Next?”
Her lips purse together as she studies me. Then, she lets out a sigh. “This is just dinner. I’m not agreeing to anything else.”
“Fair enough, with one small addendum.”
“Now who’s sounding like a lawyer?” she jokes gently.
“You need to know that while this is dinner, I’m going to work to get you to agree to more time with me. To me, this is our first date.”
“Whatever,” she mutters, but she doesn’t quite hide the happiness that glows on her face. Yeah. She’s into me. She can deny it, but the evidence is there in her smile.
“What’s your third condition?” I ask, eager to collect her dog.
I’m going to win the pup over first. By the time I pick Gwen up for her date tonight, I’ll have spoiled her puppy.
Then, I’ll spend tonight doing the same thing to Gwen.
She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to claim this woman.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say that makes me nervous.
Hell, the last time I chose a woman didn’t work out that great for me.
Even though I’m filled with trepidation about taking this step again, there’s an excitement in me I barely remember.
A buzz that settles me and makes me feel excited for the day.
It’s that feeling that has me staying the course.
There’s a chance—a very big one—that the woman in front of me is my future.
For now, that’s all I need to move forward.
“No more gunfire. That happens again, and I don’t care if you’re somehow perfect and the man of my dreams, I will walk away.”
“You can’t really say the gunfire was because of me. It could be entirely coincidental,” I point out.
“Well, if it happens again, we’ll know it’s not, and I will walk away.”
I stand up once she does. I can’t help but frown at her words. Still, I’m getting what I want for now, and I’m going to go with it. I step into her and graze my lips against her cheek. “Deal. Now, take me to get your puppy, and I’ll be back to pick you up at four on the dot, sweetheart.”
I feel her body tremble as I whisper against her skin.
She steps back, creating space between us.
I let her as I follow her out of the room.
I don’t know if whoever was shooting today was aiming at me.
I also don’t know they weren’t. I’m going to have to figure that out—all while making Gwen fall in love with me.
Still, I’m getting what I want, and that has to be enough.
At least for now.