Magic Hour

Julia wrenched away from him and fell to her knees. “I can’t believe you sedated her. Damn it. Now she’ll never trust me.”

“She could have hurt you,” he said in an irritatingly matter-of-fact voice.

“She’s all of what—forty-five pounds?”

Her cheeks hurt. So did the back of her head. She couldn’t believe how fast the attack had come on. She let out a shaky breath and glanced around the room. The girl lay on a mattress by the back wall, asleep. Even in slumber she was curled into a tight ball, as if the whole world could hurt her. Damn it. “How long will she sleep?”

“Not more than a few hours. I think she was looking for a weapon when I came in. If she’d found one, she could have really hurt you.”

Julia rolled her eyes. No doubt he was one of those people whose lives had never been touched by violence of any kind. “It’s hardly the first time I’ve been attacked by a patient. I doubt it’ll be the last. Part of the job description. Next time don’t sedate her without asking me, okay?”

“Sure.”

She frowned. The movement hurt. “The question is: what did I say?”

“What do you mean?”

“You saw her. She was fine. I thought maybe she was even understanding a few words. Then: bam! I must have said just the wrong thing. I’ll listen to the tapes tonight. Maybe that will give me a clue.” She looked back at the girl. “Poor baby.”

“We should get you cleaned up. Those scratches on your cheek are pretty deep, and God knows what kind of bacteria is under her fingernails.”

Julia could hardly disagree.

As they walked down the hallway, she realized how much her head hurt. So much that she felt queasy and unsteady. “I’ve never seen anyone move so fast. She was like a cat.”

“Daisy Grimm swears she flew into the maple tree on Sealth Park.”

“Daisy still carrying Fred’s ashes around with her?”

“She is.”

“Fred died when I was in seventh grade. Need I say more?”

Max guided her into an empty examining room. “Sit.”

“Let me guess: you have dogs.”

He smiled. “Just sit down. I need to look at your injuries.”

She was too weak to argue, so she sat on the end of the table; paper rustled beneath her butt. Other than their breathing, it was the only sound in the room.

His touch was surprisingly gentle on her face. She’d expected him to be clumsier, a little uncertain. This was nurse’s work, after all.

She winced when he dabbed the antiseptic on her wounds.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” He was too close. She shut her eyes.

That was when she felt his breath on her cheek, a little stream of it that smelled of Red Hot gum.

She opened her eyes. He was right there, looking at her, blowing cool breath on her cuts. Her heart skipped a beat. “Thanks,” she said, jerking backward, trying to smile. Oh, for God’s sake, Julia. She’d always been uncomfortable around good-looking men.

“Sorry.” He didn’t seem sorry at all. “I just wanted to help.”

“Thanks. I’m fine.”

He closed up the supplies and stowed everything back in the overhead cabinets. When he turned back to face her, he kept a certain distance between them. “You should take the rest of the day off. Have Ellie watch you. Concussions—”