Page 372 of One More Kiss

Keeping my bleeding hand still behind my back, I follow him into the patient area of the emergency department, all the way to the back and into an empty room. He waves for me to enter first and then shuts the sliding glass door and closes the curtain.

“Everything okay?” he asks as I hop up on the gurney. “Has that Jason guy been bothering you?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. I haven’t heard from him since Friday. I think he’s done.”

“Good. That’s a relief.” He steps toward me. “So what’s up? You look nervous as hell.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“W-what?”

“Ha. Sorry. Bad joke. Baaaad joke. Obviously, I’m kidding since we just had sex Friday and it’s only Wednesday. I am a bit nervous, as you said.” I pull my hand forward. “I sliced my hand at work with a box cutter and I might be pulling favors because I didn’t want to wait all day to be seen. Sorry. Now I’m starting to feel sorta bad for doing that. There are likely some very sick people who you should see before me. Do you want me to go back out there and—”

He steps in my direction, his hand taking mine, cutting off my rant. “You’re here. I’m glad you came to me, and I don’t mind you cutting the line even though I likely should. Let me see what you did.”

I extend my hand to him, and he pulls a pair of blue gloves from a dispenser on the wall and snaps them on. Removing the wad of bloody paper towels, he scrutinizes my still oozing wound.

“This is pretty deep. It will definitely need stitches. First I need to examine you to make sure you didn’t hurt anything else like a tendon or ligament.”

“Whatever you think, Doctor.”

A sly grin hits his face. “Are you trying to flirt with me? You wouldn’t be the first patient.”

“With a doctor who looks like you, I’m not the least bit shocked by this. But no. Of course not. I wouldn’t dare flirt with you… Doctor.”

He steps into me, his body somehow now between my thighs as I sit on the gurney. His eyes all over mine. “But what if I were to flirt back? What then?”

Oh hell. Heart pounding. Cleavage sweating. Nipples tightening.

And seriously, why else did I come here? I can tell myself all day long it’s because I have to get back to work, but let’s be real.

“Are you allowed to flirt with me? I’m a patient.”

A sly grin. “No. I’m not allowed.”

“Then I’d have to tell you that I like a taste of the forbidden, so feel free to flirt away.”

He hisses out a curse under his breath and I mentally high-five myself for being a total idiot. Forbidden is his middle name to me and yet I also fall under the “I can’t help myself” playbook. Mixing metaphors and all.

“Okay.” A step back. A small self-deprecating headshake. “Let me fix your hand.”

I clear my throat, also doing the headshake, although mine is mental. “Right. Sorry. If you could, that would be great.”

Silas leaves me sitting here after replacing the paper towel with a wad of sterile gauze. A few minutes pass, and I start to grow antsy. Nervous. Regretful. I’m not sure what drove me here other than the man himself, but what was I looking for other than a few minutes of his time and the way I knew his eyes would cling to mine?

All those things I told Rebecca are still true.

Every word is every reason I shouldn’t be here.

But when he walks back in carrying a tray of things that look painful, I’m relieved it’s him and not someone else. Even if it’s just this.

“Breathe, Delaney. I’ll take good care of you.”

Oh, I know, I want to say but hold my tongue. Instead, I go with, “How come you always call me Delaney?”

He pauses midstep, his head tilting. “Is that not your name?”

“Everyone always calls me Laney.”

---