Page 57 of Receiving His Mercy
“What do you need?” he asked.
“Um, what do I need for what?” she asked in confusion as he stood.
“What do you need before I take you to see a doctor?”
“I’m not going to see a doctor.”
“You lost consciousness. You’re pale and exhausted. You should be checked over.”
“No, no. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. I’m taking you.”
Shit. The last thing she wanted was to spend hours in an emergency waiting room only to be told she was fine.
“I really don’t need a doctor and I don’t want to go. Besides, I don’t have insurance.”
That part was actually true.
“You don’t have insurance? Why not? Can you not afford it?” He glanced around with a shrug. “We’ll put you on Raptor’s plan.”
“Um, you can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t work for you!”
“We’ll work out something. Been meaning to get some photos taken for the website. You can do that.”
She bit her lip as amusement filled her. She had been pretty sure that he had no idea what sort of photographer she was. Now, she was certain he had no clue.
Should she tell him?
Probably. Maybe not right now, though. He’d likely had enough shocks today.
“You don’t need to do that. I’m not going to be in the states much longer so I’ll be fine without insurance.” Money wasn’t a problem. She just hadn’t thought it worth the hassle when she knew she wouldn’t be here much. Although maybe it would be nice to have a base to come home to.
Hmm. She’d tried to keep Grammy’s place as a base, but it had been too sad to come home to and she’d thought it was a house that deserved to have people live in it. So she’d sold it to a lovely family and stored what she wanted to keep.
But if she had an apartment here she could get everything sent over and set up house.
How odd.
She’d never had an urge to make a home before.
“You still need to see a doctor.”
“For them to tell me what? They can’t do anything for a concussion.”
“They can scan your brain.”
“My brain is fine. Still in there and functioning. Sort of. But that has nothing to do with the knock it took.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “All right, if you won’t go to the doctor then I’ll have to look after you. Which means I’m staying. Do you have a spare bedroom?”
Um. What did he just say?
“You’re what?”
