Page 3 of Daddy's Little Patient

“She’ll be in those casts for the next six weeks. She can’t get them wet.”

“I’m on dish duty,” he said with a nod.

“And shower duty, hair washing duty, and bathroom-wiping duty,” Doctor Biker bluntly pointed out. “Your relationship is about to enter a whole new level of intimacy. If you’re not prepared to handle that, then we need to make arrangements for an in-home care provider, at least for the next while.”

Not for even a sliver of a split second did Cole hesitate to accept that responsibility, but he had to admit, he hadn’t thought about it. Kelly was delightfully open and spontaneous about a lot of things, but she’d always kept her bathroom business private. So had he, for that matter. The thought of being in her position, to have to let someone else wipe his ass, even if it was the person he intended to spend the rest of his life with, left him feeling slightly sick. He glanced at Kelly, only to find her staring poker-faced at the TV while her face practically throbbed with embarrassed color.

“I’m. Fine,” Kelly bit through tightly clenched teeth. “Icantake care of myself.”

“Not with those casts,” the doctor retorted.

“I can handle all that,” Cole said diplomatically, overriding Kelly’s huffy arguments. “What else?”

“She’ll need to make an appointment with her general practitioner in the next week or so, to make sure things are progressing well and to make sure she follows up with a PT. She needs to keep her arms elevated as much as possible to help reduce the swelling, which will also help with pain. I get this isn’t the coziest position to sleep in, but the priority is to rest and heal. If her fingers become darkly discolored or she spikes a fever, bring her back immediately. And I think that’s about it. Sound good?”

Cole looked at the tips of her swollen fingers, peeking out at the ends of both casts. They already looked a little purplish to him.

“I can do that,” he said, winning another side-eyed look from Kelly.

She didn’t bother saying she was fine again, but she did turn her body to hide her fingertips in the folds of the plastic bag in her lap.

“I’ll order up your wheelchair.” The smile he gave Cole was flat and firmly pasted in place. “Good luck.”

“Thank you,” Cole called after him, waiting until he was out of sight before rounding on Kelly in full Daddy-Dom mode. “What did you do to that man?”

“Look at this!” she hissed, waving her casts at him. “Look what he did to me! I’m practically peg-legged! Armed… whatever.”

“You told them we’re married?”

“They were being difficult! They refused to let me go home unless I guaranteed someone else would be there with me. Like every day, around the clock, someone is right there in your house like they live there. Who the hell does that?”

“Most of the world,” he shot back. “And watch who you’re talking to with that mouth. I only have to go as far as the parking lot to tan your hide.”

“Sorry, Daddy,” she muttered, still disgruntled and not seeming to notice when he suddenly looked at her casts. “I’m just cranky because of how ridiculous this all is. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was a kid. I don’t need this much help. I’m—”

“Don’t say you’re fine again, young lady,” he cut in sharply. “You are not fine. You are stitched up like Frankenstein’s Little Monster. Where’s the car? Is it even drivable?”

“I don’t know,” she chanted through an aggressively sweet smile. “I’m not allowed to drive on these pills.”

“Oh.” Cole laughed, so not amused. “I promise, that’s not the hill you want to take your last stand on with me. Also, don’t ever take that tone with me again because you won’t like how I respond.”

Kelly huffed once, then wilted where she sat.

“Please,” she said, looking every bit as defeated as she suddenly sounded. “Please just take me home?”

“Right.” Drawing himself up a little straighter, Cole gave in. “We can talk freely once we get out of here. Where are your clothes? Do you need help to get dressed?”

She held up her baggy. “They cut my clothes off in the ambulance.”

Hardly surprisingly, but Cole raised a brow. “And gave them back to you? Do they expect you to sew them back together?”

Her shoulders slumped a little more and her downcast eyes took on a certain watery shine. “It’s my Little Miss Trouble tee, my favoritest. Not that you can tell,” she sighed, peeking into her bag at the heap of tatters in the bottom. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with it now. Just throw it away, I guess. And I’ll never find another one.”

“God, I wish you’d called me.” Combing his fingers through her hair, he sank down onto the window seat to wait for the wheelchair.

“I did, I—”

He cut her off with a sharp motion from his spanking hand. “I meant when you first got hurt, not when you’re trying to con your doctors into letting you out early.”

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