Reluctantly in Love (15 page)

“It’s not my fault I’m bleeding from the head, you know,” I stressed. My statement went unanswered.

Like they didn’t agree
.
As if they thought my bleeding head was all my fault. Under the shirt, my brow furrowed. “It’s the ghost’s fault.”

“No, it’s your fault for taking us under the guise of solving a catnapping when in fact you were there to hunt for ghosts,” Gen said. “Is that what your new book is about? Ghosts?”

It was best to keep mum. Also, I felt a little guilty about being sneaky in order to get them to come with me. But just a little. They would have spent all day being bored if I hadn’t invited them along. And, if it weren’t for the disastrous way things turned out, they probably would have thanked me for the excitement. I mean, if my best friends surprised
me
with a haunted house adventure, I’d love them forever.

The vehicle made a very slow turn.

“If she has a subdural hematoma, maybe you should pull over so I can drive,” Richard said.

“There’s no need to drive like a crazy person and get a ticket,” Gen said.

The vehicle slowed to a stop.

“I saw an episode of
Sunset Hospital
where the woman had brain trauma and no one believed her.” After adjusting the shirt so it didn’t cover my eyes, I added, “Until she died.”

“It’s a TV show,” Gen said. “They dramatize everything. Let’s not overreact.”

“It’s a TV show based on
real life cases.
” Okay, so I wasn’t entirely certain the show was based on real life cases, but I was sure I’d read something to that effect online.

“I’m taking you to a clinic that’s close.” Gen made another safe and excruciatingly slow turn.

“A clinic?” I struggled to sit up, but she turned the vehicle around another corner and I fell back against the seat. “I don’t think a clinic can treat what’s wrong with me.”

“Since when did you become a hypochondriac?”

The humor in her voice didn’t amuse me. “Since when did you become Ms. Judgy-Judger-Pants?” I huffed. “I’m just
saying
it could be serious.”

“It’s a specialty clinic,” Gen said. “If there’s something wrong with you, you’ll be in good hands. I bet they even have a neurosurgeon there.”

“Oh.” I relaxed into the seat. “Okay, then.”

It was more time-efficient to skip right to the neurosurgeon anyway.

Gen parked the vehicle. “See? We’re already here.”

“Thank God,” I said. “I’ve probably lost a pint of blood already.”

They helped me out of the backseat and we hurried to the sliding front doors. With one hand on the shirt and the other on Gen’s arm, we entered the clinic and Richard announced, “We need a doctor!”

“We’re not an emergency clinic,” the receptionist said, a note of panic in her voice. She stood, pushing up her wire rimmed glasses. She looked a lot like my old high school librarian, the one who always sniffed with disapproval with each paranormal book I checked out. “The ER is down on 70th, only about five minutes from here if you go the back way.”

“The clinic is closer,” Gen said. “She just has a small cut on her forehead and—”

“I could have a subdural hematoma,” I interjected.

The receptionist’s gaze shot up to the shirt wrapped around my head. “I guess we do have a neurologist…”

“Can you just call Dr. Walker?” Gen read the woman’s name tag, and then added, “Sarah?”

Dr. Walker.
I whipped my head to stare at Gen.

“Dr. Walker isn’t the neurologist,” the receptionist said with a shake of her head.

“I know, but I’m a friend of his,” Gen said.

“He is finishing up with a patient, but I can see if Dr. Anderson is available.” She sat down to pick up the phone.

“We can wait for Dr. Walker,” Gen insisted.

I gaped. “I have an oozing cut in my forehead. If she wants to call Dr. Anderson, let her call Dr. Anderson.” I glanced at the receptionist, whose eyes narrowed with annoyance as her hand hovered over the phone on her desk. “Is Dr. Anderson the neurologist?”

“It’s probably stopped bleeding by now,” Gen said, and I elbowed her in the side. To Sarah, she said, “It’s really just a tiny cut.”

“I am not about to take chances with my
head injury.
” I turned my attention back to the receptionist. “We would love to see Dr. Anderson if Dr. Walker is busy.”

“But we prefer Dr. Walker.” Gen flashed the receptionist a smile, and she blinked back at us as if we’d lost our minds.

I would throttle Gen later, after my head quit bleeding. For right now, my mind was busy picturing Chase in all his gorgeousness. I couldn’t believe Gen’s nerve. This was not the time to play matchmaker. This was an emergency. Irritated, I stepped on her toe.

“
Ow, jeez
,” Gen hissed at me through barely open lips. When Sarah looked up from hitting a key combination on the desk phone, Gen flashed a bright smile.

“Dr. Walker,” Sarah said into the phone. “I’m sorry to bother you, but there are people up front here who would like to see you for an emergency—a possible subdural hematoma.” There was a pause and then she said, “I know. I told them we’re not the ER.” Another pause while she listened. “They won’t leave.” She sounded frustrated by that fact. “It’s just a superficial cut.” She nodded. “Okay. Thank you, Doctor.” She hung up the phone and gazed at my makeshift bandage. “He’ll be right up.”

“We should have gone to the ER.” I glanced around the waiting room decorated in rich earth tones. A wall fountain made of copper and slate hung above a plush brown leather couch, filling the room with the soothing sound of running water. The bronze plaque behind the receptionist’s desk read:
Montrose Specialty Clinic.
Chase had done well for himself.

I turned to Gen. “I don’t think they want people bleeding all over the place.”

The receptionist opened her mouth to respond, but a deep, amused voice from behind me cut her off: “We have an excellent cleaning service, so don’t worry about the carpets.”

Gen’s lips turned up into a smile. “Hey, Chase.”

“What happened?” His brow wrinkled as his gaze zeroed in on the wadded up shirt around my head.

As great as he’d been with his shirt off, he was perfect dressed as a doctor in his white lab coat. I wondered how many of his patients came to see him because of real sickness. If he were my doctor, I’d come in for checkups all the time. Ridiculous as it was, I reached with my free hand to smooth out my hair not covered by the shirt wrapped around my head.

Gen could have at least warned me she’d be throwing me at Chase today. I’d lecture her later. Right now, I needed to give him my full attention. After all, I could have a major medical condition.

“Roxi might need stitches, but it’s not that bad.” She glanced at me. “At least, I don’t think it’s bad. Just a small accident.”

“What happened?” There were worry wrinkles on his forehead.

“We were ghost hunting,” Richard said, and Chase’s lips quirked in bemusement.

“We were actually investigating a really important case,” I said.

Richard nodded. “And ghost hunting. And then—”

“And then I fell and hit my head,” I said. Telling Chase I was attacked by a ghost might lead him to believe I was crazy. And I didn’t want that. I wanted his full attention in a good way.

“She also blacked out for about two minutes,” Gen said.

“Could have been three. Is that a sign of a traumatic brain injury?” I asked.

“Why don’t I take you back to an exam room so we can take a look at the wound?” The smile on his lips was breathtaking, and the outer corners of his eyes crinkled. Maybe it was just the blood loss, but I swear those blue jewels twinkled at me.

“Okay.” I switched my hold on the shirt from one hand to the other.

He placed a hand at the small of my back, and I sucked in a breath. Electricity shot through me and the flutters in my stomach went haywire at the contact. He led me down the hall.

“I have some paperwork that needs to be filled out,” the receptionist said from behind her desk. She still sounded annoyed by this drop-in visit.

“I can do it. I know all her information,” Gen said, and then called after us, “Let you guys have some space.”

Chase hit me with another full-lipped smile. “You’re in good hands, I promise.”

I wasn’t about to argue—I had no doubt he had wonderful hands. I remembered how they felt carrying me. And weren’t good hands a prerequisite for a doctor?

He steered me into an empty examination room. “Ghost hunting, huh?”

“Investigative research,” I clarified. “It was interesting.”

“So it appears.” The teasing tone to his voice made my knees a little weak. Or maybe it was the result of me hitting my head. I didn’t get weak knees. Not since sophomore year in high school when Shawn Gleason, a junior star on the basketball team, spent a week flirting with me before asking me to the prom. He turned out to be a groping ass-hat with the personality of a beetle.

I wiggled against the exam table, but it was difficult to raise myself up with one hand pressed to my forehead.

“Let me help.” He stepped between my legs, grasped me by the hips. I leaned into him, wrapping an arm around his neck so I could help by hopping up onto the table. I sucked in a breath of his cologne, and then blushed when I realized he might be concerned I was one of those creepy-body-sniffers. Like the guy I took Business Principles with in college who liked to sniff my hair when he didn’t think I was looking.
Ew.

“Thanks.” I settled onto the table. “Your forehead looks good.”

“Yes, well, the bruise wasn’t so bad.”

He removed his hands from my hips and stepped back. I almost snagged him by the coat lapels and pulled him back. He smelled too good. A mixture of sweet and spicy. Something I would enjoy licking.

Get a grip, Roxi. Now is not the time.

“Let’s get this shirt off.”

I had a wicked image of him stripping, and because I’d already seen him without a shirt, my imagination wasn’t overworked. He reached for Richard’s shirt instead, and I sucked in a disappointed sigh. The dried blood was like glue; the cotton stuck to my forehead. He removed it with a gentle tug.

“It’s stopped bleeding.” He dropped the shirt beside me on the examination table. “You’ll need a couple of stitches.”

The blood drained from my face.

Chapter Fourteen

“Stitches?” My voice shook as I gripped the edge of the table.

“Yes, but just a few. I don’t anticipate a scar.”

“I hate needles,” I said. “A lot. This one time I had a nurse give me an IV and she poked me twenty times before she found a vein.”

“Twenty?” He sounded more amused than believing.

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure of it. I don’t even think she went to nursing school. Or maybe she did some kind of correspondence school and I was her first victim.”

I was rambling, but the idea of being poked numerous times with a needle had fried my nerves.

He patted me on the knee. “I’ll apply a local anesthetic and you won’t feel a thing.”

A local anesthetic? That sounded serious. Just in case he hadn’t grasped my trepidation, I stressed, “I mean, I
really
hate needles. They’re right up there with killer clowns.”

He chuckled. “And mutant fish and killer wasps?”

My eyes widened. “Yes. Exactly!”

“It won’t take long at all to stitch you up.” His tone took on a soothing note. “Think about something nice, like cake and . . .” He gazed down at my heels. “Shoe shopping.”

“Shoe shopping,” I repeated. “Shoe shopping is nice.”

“You probably have a closet full of shoes,” he said.

I already felt better. “I’m glad Gen tricked me into coming here.”

His smile was as breathtaking as his piercing blue eyes. They were seared into my brain. “I’m glad she did, too. I was wondering when I’d get to see you again.”

I did a little wiggle scooch to get comfortable on the table. “We had a rain check, remember?”

“How could I forget?” He glanced away, and I willed his eyes to come back to me. “So,” he said, “investigating a haunted house, huh? Sounds interesting.”

I followed his lead with the distraction.

“Well, we were there to look for clues about a missing cat.”

“You were in a haunted house for a missing cat?”

“Okay, I was mostly there because the house was haunted, and also the house owner’s cat is missing, so I figured I better make sure she hadn’t misplaced it.”

He raised his brows.

“She’s older. Forgetting stuff happens. I figured I’d cross all my T’s, you know?” I glanced at him and he nodded. “And her stepson was there a couple times, and I thought it was weird since no one’s lived there in over a century.”

His head tilted. “Makes sense.”

“It does. It just got a little more intense than I thought it would when we were . . . investigating.” My gaze followed him to the cabinet across the room by the door. He loaded a tray with supplies from the cabinet. “You know, weird noises and such.”

“So this house is supposed to be haunted?” He pushed the tray toward the exam table, and I gulped.

“Yeah, I’ve heard.” I looked up at the ceiling again, and away from whatever he was doing with the tray. I heard him rip open a package, and my spine tingled.

“I’m going to apply the anesthetic. It will sting, but the sensation will go away quickly. On the count of three. One, two . . .”

The sharp nip to my skin made me suck in a short breath. I tugged in my bottom lip and held my breath, but the sting went away as quickly as he’d said it would. After a few moments, the cut no longer stung. My forehead was officially numb.

“You did good.” He patted my shoulder to soothe me.

I practiced taking deep, calming breaths. “I bet you’re great with the kids you treat.”

“We don’t get too many kids here at the clinic, but I enjoy them when they come in. I originally went into medicine for Peds,” he said.

“As in pediatrics?”

“Yes. I like kids. I’ve got quite a few nieces and nephews.”

“So . . . you must want a ton of them, huh?”