I'd Rather Not (KPD Motorcycle Patrol 3)

I shook my head in the negative. “No, that’s not what I was going to ask.”

Her brows rose.

“Why not?” she asked.

I grinned. “Because you wouldn’t be here with me if something was wrong with her. And even if you were, you definitely wouldn’t be smiling.”

She rolled her eyes. “You and your deductive reasoning.”

I shrugged.

“She’s been in her own suite for about two hours now,” she said. “She woke up about twenty minutes ago and heard that you were being written up for failure to approve your ‘vacation’ time.”

My lips twitched.

Why did that not surprise me?

Jackson was a dick, after all.

“They moved you to your own room because Octomom was finally moved off the floor and to maternity,” she said. “She had eight boys, by the way. Can you imagine?”

I shook my head.

“Eight boys…at once? That is scary as hell,” I murmured. “I watched a couple of kids for a buddy a couple of weeks ago. I thought I was going to die.”

Mercy snickered.

“Usually, other people’s kids aren’t as fun as your own,” she promised. “But your own kids are completely different. It’s like you can deal with shit from them that you would never tolerate from anybody else’s kids.”

I could imagine.

I closed my eyes and tried to shift on the bed, but quickly realized how bad of an idea that was when pain rocketed up my spine.

“Ow,” I groaned.

Mercy stood up and leaned over me, reaching for something at my side.

“You’re on a pump for pain,” she said, handing me the button. “They showed me how to work it. Apparently, they’re not supposed to do that seeing as you’re supposed to be detecting your own pain level and pressing your own button accordingly, but you took forever to wake up and they didn’t want you to be in too much pain.”

“How often can I press it?” I asked, clicking it multiple times.

There was a snort from the doorway, and Sierra, Mercy’s daughter, was standing there rolling her eyes as she laughed on my behalf.

“You can press it once every fifteen minutes, I think,” Mercy said. “Hey, Sierra. Are you done?”

“Yeah, Mom,” Sierra said. “This place is jam-packed. I should’ve probably just gone to a different floor to do the work.”

“What are you doing?” I wondered as Mercy started to gather her things.

“Nursing shit,” she muttered darkly. “I have to come up here and do patient charting before my clinical tomorrow. I have to know all this bullshit and study all their stupid patient history before tomorrow’s shift. Nurse Asshole is the one I’m pairing with tomorrow, too. It’s going to be so much fun…not.”

My lips twitched at that.

Sierra Nevada Spurlock was nothing like her mother, Mercy.

She was her own special brand of hilarious, and I loved the hell out of her. She said what she meant, didn’t beat around the bush, and definitely had no qualms pissing people off.

It was a lot like her father, actually, only in female form.

Miller Spurlock—who happened to be Trance Spurlock’s brother—was the exact same way.

I liked them all.

“I’m not sure you should call me Nurse Asshole,” someone said from behind Sierra.

Sierra looked at the woman.

“Are you not an asshole?” she asked inquisitively.

“Well, yeah,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean that you need to say it at my place of work.”

Sierra shrugged unrepentantly.

Mercy sighed. “Ladies.”

Both ‘ladies’ turned to Mercy with looks of chagrin on their faces.

Mercy turned to me. “Pace, this is your nurse, Hastings. Hastings is good friends with Sierra. Hastings, I just showed him how to use his pain pump. He didn’t remember you explaining it to him.”

I blinked.

That was the first time I’d heard that anyone besides Mercy had explained it to me.

Sierra came up to the bed and looked at me.

“You’ll be well taken care of,” she said. “Nurse Asshole is a good one, even if she’s an asshole. She’s a likable asshole, though.”

The likable asshole sighed. “I’m not sure that you should be introducing me to my patients like that, either.”

“I’ll be with you tomorrow,” she said. “But I have to go learn all the meds you’re on. And you have quite a bit of extensive medical history I have to work my way through. Thanks for that, by the way.”

I laughed.

“I didn’t tell you to choose me as your patient,” I said, eyes closing as whatever the fuck was in that pain pump started to course through my veins.

“It was either you or my cousin,” she said. “And Oakley has a longer medical history and about twelve more medications than you have. So, the choice was easy.”

I gave her a thumb up.

“Before y’all go, will one of y’all give me that keychain with the bunny on it?” I asked, opening my palm.

With my eyes now closed, I couldn’t tell who was the one that completed the task for me, but I thanked them all nonetheless.