Where There's Smoke

He cocked an eyebrow, seeming amused by her prompt tabulation. “Right. One hundred and sixty-four.” He extracted the necessary bills and laid them on the examination table. “Keep the change,” he said when he put down a five-dollar bill instead of four ones.

Lara was surprised that he had that much cash on him. Even after paying her, he still had a wad of currency in high denominations. “Thank you. Take two of the antibiotic capsules tonight, then four a day until you’ve taken all of them.”

He read the labels, opened the bottle of pain pills and shook out one. He tossed it back and swallowed it dry. “It’d go down better with a shot of whiskey.” His voice rose on a hopeful, inquiring note.

She shook her head. “Take one every four hours. Two if absolutely necessary. Take them with water,” she emphasized, seriously doubting that he’d stick to those instructions. “Tomorrow afternoon around four-thirty, come in and I’ll change your dressing.”

“For another fifty bucks, I guess.”

“No, that’s included.”

“Much obliged.”

“Don’t be. As soon as you leave, I’m calling Sheriff Baxter.”

Crossing his arms over his bare chest, he regarded her indulgently. “And get him out of bed at this time of night?” He shook his head remorsefully. “I’ve known poor old Elmo Baxter all my life. He and my daddy were buddies. They were youngsters during the oil boom, see? It was kinda like going through a war together, they said.

“They used to hang out around the drilling sites, came to be like mascots to the roughnecks and wildcatters. Ran errands for them to buy hamburgers, cigarettes, moonshine, whatever they wanted. He and my daddy probably procured some things that old Elmo would rather not recall,” he said with a wink.

“Anyway, go ahead and call him. But once he gets here, he’ll be nothing but glad to see me. He’ll slap me on the back and say something like, ‘Long time no see,’ and ask what the hell I’ve been up to lately.” He paused to gauge Lara’s reaction. Her stony stare didn’t faze him.

“Elmo’s overworked and underpaid. Calling him out this late over this piddling accident of mine will get him all out of sorts, and he’s already cantankerous by nature. If you ever have a real emergency, like some crazy dopehead breaking in here looking for something to stop the little green monsters from crawling out of his eye sockets, the sheriff’ll think twice before rushing to your rescue.

“Besides,” he added, lowering his voice, “folks won’t take kindly to you when they hear that you can’t be trusted with their secrets. People in a small town like Eden Pass put a lot of stock in privileged information.”

“I doubt that many even know the definition of privileged information,” Lara refuted dryly. “And contrary to what you say, in the time I’ve been here, I’ve learned just how far-reaching and accurate the grapevine is. A secret has a short life span in this town.

“But your message to me about Sheriff Baxter came through loud and clear. What you’re telling me is that he enforces a good ol’ boy form of justice and that even if I reported your bullet wound, that would be the end of it.”

“More’n likely,” he replied honestly. “Around here, if the sheriff investigated every shooting, he’d be plumb worn out in a month.”

Realizing that he probably was right, Lara sighed. “Were you shot while committing a crime?”

“A few sins, maybe,” he said, giving her a slow, lazy smile. His blue eyes squinted mischievously. “But I don’t think they’re illegal.”

She finally relinquished her professional posture and laughed. He didn’t appear to be a criminal, although he was almost certainly a sinner. She doubted that he was dangerous, except perhaps to a susceptible woman.

“Hey, the lady doctor’s not so stuffy after all. She can smile. Got a real nice smile, too.” Narrowing his eyes, he asked softly, “What else have you got that’s real nice?”

Now it was her turn to fold her arms across her chest. “Do these come-on lines usually work for you?”

“I’ve always thought that where boys and girls are concerned, talk is practically unnecessary.”

“Really?”

“Saves time and energy. Energy better spent on doing other things.”

“I don’t dare ask ‘Like what?’ ”

“Go ahead, ask. I don’t embarrass easily. Do you?”

&n

bsp; It had been a long time since a man had flirted with her. Even longer since she had flirted back. It felt good. But only for a few seconds. Then she remembered why she couldn’t afford to flirt, no matter how harmlessly. Her smile faltered, then faded. She drew herself up and resumed her professional demeanor. “Don’t forget your shirt,” she said curtly.

“You can throw it away.” He took a step away from the table, but fell back against it, his face contorted in pain. “Shitfire!”

“What?”