Was that a hint of a smile lifting the left corner of her mouth? Doubtful. He didn’t deserve one.
‘They’re on the kitchen bench.’
‘I’ll get them once you’re loaded.’ She shook her head. ‘Obviously you shouldn’t be left in charge of an axe. Getting distracted is plain dumb.’
‘Do you talk to all your patients like this?’
He knew she didn’t but she needed redirecting. Otherwise next he’d be spilling the reason why he’d been ‘plain dumb’. That would go down a treat. She’d probably leave him on the pavement and hurl that ambulance down the road, siren screaming, putting as much space between them as possible.
Because he would’ve seen and heard that blasted cat a lot earlier if Stephanie hadn’t been prowling around inside his skull.
‘Only the difficult ones.’
Her words slapped at him hard, unlike her light and yet assured fingers when she’d checked out his leg.
Kath had the gurney locked back in place inside the ambulance and was reaching for his arm.
‘This is going to hurt.’
At least she didn’t sound pleased about it, whereas Stephanie was probably shrieking with laughter on the inside.
A small but surprisingly strong hand took his other arm.
‘Let’s do it.’
Her fingers squeezed encouragement.
A quick glance at Stephanie’s face told him she didn’t want him hurting at all. Why was he being so stubborn? Because he didn’t want her to think he needed her help? He’d hurt her once by walking away before they got too involved—he wasn’t about to let her close again. She’d had her share of sorrows, and she didn’t need him adding any more. Because in the end he would. It was in his genes.
Biting down hard he took his first step, followed it up with a second, then a fast stumble to get inside the ambulance, groping with his good hand for the stretcher to collapse on to and take the pressure off.
The names he was silently calling himself for being so stubborn were unprintable. To put it bluntly, Stephanie was right: he was an idiot, a really stupid, dumb idiot...
‘Mike? What the—?’
His head flipped up. ‘Jock? Sorry, I got a bit tied up and forgot to phone you. I can’t make it tonight.’
They were supposed to be going for a beer before heading to Eden Park for the rugby game of the year between the Auckland and Wellington provincial teams. A game he’d been hanging out for ever since the beginning of the season.
‘Kind of reached that conclusion myself. What have you done now?’
‘Seems he’s not the macho forestry man with an axe he thought he was.’ Stephanie pushed around his friend and climbed into the ambulance.
‘He what?’ Jock stared at Stephanie for a long moment, then fixed that annoying, oh, so sharp look back on him. ‘You copped an axe?’
‘Something like that.’ Michael stared straight back. It was easier than watching Stephanie work on his leg.
Jock saw through him and grinned, but he wasn’t hiding the concern in his face. ‘Glad you’re not a surgeon, mate.’
Michael chose to ignore that concern, given how his friend was probably already thinking up ways to make a joke at his expense. ‘Make yourself useful and lock up the house for me, will you?’
‘Will do—and then I’ll follow you to the ED. Someone’s got to keep an eye on you.’
Jock turned to Stephanie and Kath. ‘Which hospital?’ When Stephanie told him he asked quietly, ‘He’s going to be okay, right?’
It was Stephanie who answered. Of course it was. Kath seemed to have taken a step back on this job.
‘He’s the doctor and he didn’t argue when I mentioned possible surgery.’
She could be sassy when she put her mind to it.
Jock was watching her far too closely. Would he remember briefly seeing her once, when they were knocking around together? Yeah, he would. The man had a phenomenal memory—especially for trivia. He also didn’t bother keeping things to himself if he knew he could rile his mates. But today Jock had better keep his big mouth shut or they’d be having words.
Pain stabbed in his thigh. He’d been focused on Jock and had moved without thinking. ‘Let’s get this show on the road,’ he grunted to Kath.
She nodded back. ‘I’ll drive, Steph.’
A hint of pink streamed into Stephanie’s cheeks. Had she been in the driving seat on the way here?
‘Sure.’ The finger on his pulse wobbled.
He could only hope her counting skills were still in good working order.
‘See you at the hospital,’ Jock called as the back doors closed.
‘Sure,’ he muttered, unable to deny the relief he felt that his pal would be hanging out with him in ED. Not that he wasn’t capable of facing hassles alone. He was used to it. It was just that he didn’t want to. Having a friend there when he felt like something the dog had regurgitated was what it was all about.
He even wished Stephanie still worked in the emergency department so she could stop by his cubicle occasionally until he was taken into Theatre. Because that was where he was headed.
Being a doctor didn’t make that any less daunting than it would be for any other patient. The op wouldn’t be major, but he’d still have to be anaesthetised. Not something that excited him. He hated being out of control. Once that drug sent him to sleep he wouldn’t know another thing until the anaesthetist brought him round again—if he woke up.
Another shudder and goosebumps lifted the skin on his arms. If only they could fix him up using a local anaesthetic so he could be aware of everything happening...
‘Lie down,’ Stephanie ordered in that no-nonsense voice she was very good at with recalcitrant patients. ‘You’ll rock around too much if you’re sitting, and that would not be good.’ Then that toffee gaze locked onto his. ‘Please?’ she asked softly.
His heart slowed as he looked into those brown depths. Concern radiated out of them. She cared. For him. He wasn’t just another patient to her. Warmth stole through his shaky body, flattened the goosebumps. For the life of him he couldn’t banish the sense of wonder at the thought of being special to someone—if he only had the courage to become involved without looking for the divorce at the end of it.
He didn’t want to be alone any more.
Which was scary—scarier than going under an anaesthetic.
No doubt it was all to do with post-accident shock. Had to be. Any other explanation was untenable.
‘Michael? Are you all right?’
Stephanie shook him gently—this time as a paramedic, not a friend.
‘Look at me.’
‘I’ll need help lifting my leg onto the stretcher.’
Could she possibly do that without touching him? Not even those gloves were protecting him from the warm sensation of her fingertips on his skin.
Blimey, could she be gentle... It hurt like stink to lift his leg and swivel his butt so he could lie down, but Stephanie didn’t add to his agony. Not at the site of his injuries anyway.
* * *
When Michael was wheeled into a room on the men’s surgical ward three hours later, feeling as though a bus had run him over and with a mouth drier than a drought, relief at being awake overwhelmed him. The anaesthetic hadn’t got him. Things were going his way. Plus the head nurse had given him a room to himself. Sometimes there were advantages to working in the hospital.
‘Up for a beer, mate?’ Jock strolled in, hands in his pockets, worry darkening his gaze, followed by Max, the other third of his lucky threesome.
So much for peace and quiet.
He smiled. ‘Sure.’
He and these guys went way back, to their first day of high school, and there wasn’t much they didn’t know about each other.
‘Shouldn’t you be at the rugby?’
>
‘Shucks, I knew we had to be somewhere else,’ Jock quipped.
‘You’re missing the game of the season to hang out with me?’
‘Nah, it doesn’t start for another hour. We’re foregoing the beers to check on you.’
‘Find me some clothes and I’ll come with you.’
‘Did I just hear what I thought I did?’
In walked Stephanie, looking frazzled yet cute in tight black jeans and a fitted red jersey that highlighted her dark blonde hair perfectly.
‘Depends how good your hearing is,’ answered Jock, before Michael could come up with an answer.
His brain had been in slow mode since he’d come round in Recovery. Probably just as well, or he’d have made some smart aleck comment to keep the guys from seeing how much she got to him. And they’d have seen right through it.
Not that he couldn’t enjoy lying there quietly watching her. She’d brushed her hair so it sat around her head with tantalising effect. As for that jersey—it highlighted each and every curve of her delightful breasts and narrow waist. Breasts and waist which he had no trouble recalling...could almost feel against the palms of his hands.
‘How did the surgery go?’ Stephanie stepped closer, a frown between her brows.
‘I haven’t talked to Chris yet,’ he managed to croak over his even drier tongue.
‘Chris Stuart operated?’ The frown relaxed. ‘He’s the best.’ Then she smiled and stepped away. ‘I’ll leave you to talk nonsense with your friends.’