Playboy Surgeon, Top-Notch Dad

She didn’t need to be a nurse to register that her daughter was holding her bleeding knee and fighting sniffles in an effort to be brave.

Blair took Addy, hugging the little girl’s shaking body.

“Shh, sweetheart, let Mommy see what happened,” she soothed, trying to visualize from where the blood oozed. “What happened to your knee?”

“God, I’m sorry, Blair,” Oz apologized, more repentant than she’d ever seen him. “We were playing with Boo-boo. She turned just as he jumped on her, and she fell.”

Blair repositioned Addy to where she could see the gash. Blood gushed, making it difficult to see exactly how deep the cut was. She wrapped her hand around Addy’s knee, pushing her palm tightly against the bleed, hoping the pressure would slow the blood flow.

“Get some antiseptic and a clean towel to apply pressure so we can stop the bleeding,” she ordered a pale Oz. He didn’t move, didn’t seem to register that she’d spoken. “Dr Manning—” she spoke louder “—get something for me to clean Addy’s cut with and a pressure bandage. Now.”

“There’s stuff in my medicine cabinet.” Having tossed his blanket aside, Dr Talbot gripped his walker with both hands and strained to pull himself to his feet.

With one last glance toward Addy, Oz left the room.

“Baby girl, are you okay?” Dr Talbot peered toward Addy. He’d managed to stand and was making his way toward them.

Her lower lip quivering, Addy shook her head. “My leg hurts.”

“It’s just a cut, but she’s bleeding steadily.” Blair lifted her hand long enough to assess the wound. Not that she could tell much with the blood seeping from beneath her hand. “She’s going to need a few stitches. I’ll call her pediatrician and see if he’ll meet us at his office or if he wants us to go to the emergency room.”

Both hands tightly fastened to his walker, Dr Talbot shook his head. “No need to take her anywhere. I have sutures in my doctor’s bag.” At Blair’s surprised look, the old man shrugged. “Hearts aren’t the only thing I can sew up.”

“Okay.” Her friend appeared too weak to stand, much less to sew up her daughter’s injury. But Blair would not be a naysayer. Not when he seemed so determined. She hoped the incident would remind him just how much he had to offer the world still.

Addy’s sniffles had almost stopped, but her tiny arms clung to Blair.

Oz came back into the room, his hands full of items and a big fluffy towel. Blair sat down on the sofa, angling her position to where Addy’s hurt leg dangled, giving easier access to the cut.

“Get some pressure on Addy’s knee.” Dr Talbot tottered back to the sofa, weakness obviously overtaking him.

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Blair kissed the top of her daughter’s head, her gaze going to Oz.

His skin had grown sweaty.

Surely a cocky top-notch heart surgeon wasn’t afraid of a little girl’s bloody knee?

Oz had never gotten sick during any surgical procedure. Not even during early medical school when some fourth-year residents had tried to gross out the new guy.

He never broke a sweat while performing the most complex of cardiac surgeries. Not unless it was from the lights.

But a sheen of sweat covered him.

That was Addy’s blood.

Although he knew it was just a cut knee, he’d felt real anguish the moment he’d realized what was going to happen when Boo-boo had bounded toward the little girl. He’d called to the dog, but it had been too late. Boo-boo’s exuberant leap had knocked Addy off her feet. She’d taken a tumble forward, landing on something sharp, probably a rock.

A vise had locked around his heart as Addy’s face had crumpled and she’d bravely tried to contain her cries. He’d rushed to her and seen the blood oozing from her sliced open knee.

He glanced down at his bloodstained hands. Similar to Blair, he’d tried to stop the bleeding by putting pressure with his bare hands. Not a smart thing to do in this day and age of blood-borne diseases. All he’d been able to think was that he’d let Blair’s daughter get hurt. That Addy was bleeding because he hadn’t watched her closely enough. That somehow he’d failed Addy, hadn’t protected her. That he’d failed Blair.

That she’d been right to tell him to stay away.

Oz’s gaze dropped to Addy’s knee. The blood flow had slowed, was forming a clot. But the gash was jagged enough, wide enough that she needed stitches for the area to properly heal. What was he doing standing there?

He was a heart surgeon. Used to having lives in his hands. This was only a scraped knee. No big deal. What was his problem?