The Doctor's Damsel (Men of the Capital Book 3) Read Free Page A

pitifully, annoyed that he seemed so unsympathetic.
    “Fine. Let’s see it.” He said, peeling the dishcloth away from the wound and dumping the towel in the trash beside him.
    “That’s my sister’s!” She protested.
    “She won’t want it with your blood all over it. Trust me. Now, what’d you do this with?”
    “A box cutter. I was trying to get my stuff unpacked—”
    “Were you high?”
    “What? NO!”
    “Drunk?”
    “No.”
    “Were you by yourself or did the boyfriend do this to you?”
    “I’m alone. I was alone. He kicked me out, moved a younger girl in before I even got my clothes out of his closet.”
    “Well, as tragic as that sounds, I have an OD in six and a woman whose husband just broke her jaw for her again in five, so let’s make this quick. If you’re clumsy, keep a jar of liquid bandage at the house so you don’t have to—”
“Wait, am I, like, disturbing you? I couldn’t get the bleeding to stop. I figured if I left it too long, it would get infected and I’d go into septic shock or something. I came to the ER, which is where you’re supposed to go for medical attention. If I’m bothering you, just give me a fucking Barbie Band-Aid and I’ll leave.”
    “Calm down. I’ll stitch you up. It’ll take five minutes. There are a lot more serious cases than this in the ER tonight. This is something you could handle yourself if you’re in the habit of—”
    “In the habit of cutting myself with a utility knife? No. And I resent the implication that I’m clumsy and useless and should just fix this myself. If you can’t be compassionate, just shut up and do your damn job,” she huffed, tears threatening to fall again.
    The doctor put down the gauze he’d been using to clean her cut, stripped off the gloves, and handed her a tissue. He dropped down on the stool, looking impossibly exhausted, and waited for her to calm down. She pulled off her scarf impatiently and dumped it on the table behind her, mopping her eyes with the thin hospital Kleenex and blowing her nose. She tried to smooth her hair back, a little embarrassed now.
    “I’m okay now,” she said sheepishly.
    “I’m sure I can find you a Barbie Band-Aid if it’s what you really want.” He offered with a small smile.
    “How long have you been here?”
    “What time is it? Two thirty...that puts me at about seventeen hours, then,” he said.
    Becca noticed his bloodshot eyes, the tired slump of his broad shoulders, and she wanted to hug him. Three seconds ago he was being egotistical and hateful. Now she saw the strength, the exhaustion in every line of his lean body, and her heart went out to him.
    “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’ve had kind of a rough day.”
    “I’m sure you have. Let’s see the hand,” he said, vaulting resolutely off the stool and donning fresh gloves. “I’m Doctor Abrahemson. I can stitch up your hand. The nurse will give you some ibuprofen for the pain and a page of instructions on wound care.” He said with a sigh, trying to be patient, but the effort showed.
    As he finished cleaning the deep cut, she winced and made a mewing sound that she tried to stifle. He paused.
    “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now. “It’s going to be okay. I have to sew it up. Talk to me. It’ll help distract you.”
    “Well, Dr. Abraham…”
    “Abrahemson.”
    “That’s a mouthful.”
    “It’s German. And your name was something long and Italian, if I remember correctly.”
    “It’s about to be Bennett.”
    “Getting married?”
    “No, but my sister is. I’m just changing my name because I’m an actress and I’m never going to get any really serious work with a long, unpronounceable name like Abbracciabene. I’m changing it to Bennett. This, week probably,” she told him, warming to the topic. “It’s time for a change. I was in this play, well, I was understudy, but then it flopped. I didn’t get the commercial I auditioned for. My boyfriend, who’s also my boss at