Playing Doctor (Bandit Creek Books) (3 page)

“Nope. I’m pretty sure I lost consciousness for a moment or two though. Do I have any lacerations on my scalp?”

“I’m checking that next.”

He leaned over her and began examining her scalp with his gloved fingers. Every second or two he found some glass and tossed it to the side.

“I feel like you’re grooming me like a gorilla.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Ma’am? When did I suddenly become a ma’am? I’ve known you my whole life.”

Mike leaned down a little closer and said softly, “That friend of yours has been giving me a death glare. I thought it was a good idea to keep things on a professional level.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake. Smitty,” she called.

He appeared in her peripheral vision almost immediately. “Everything okay here, Abby?”

“Yeah, but I left my purse in the clinic. Could you grab it for me? It’s in my office in the top drawer of my desk.”

He looked around then said. “I’ll get it later.”

“Smitty, I’m going to be right here for several more minutes while the paramedics do their thing. I’m not going anywhere and I’ll be surrounded by police and medical professionals the entire time.”

“You’re playing dirty, doc.”

She waved a hand at him. “Shoo.”

He gave Mike one more evil glare then left.

“Thanks Abby.”

“No problem. That he-man act of his is getting old really fast.”

“If someone is shooting at you, you’d better get used to it,” the Sheriff said, squatting down next to her on the sidewalk.

“Why on earth would someone be shooting at me?”

“Don’t know, but a high calibre bullet came damn close to blowing your brains out. You want to count on luck saving your ass again?”

“This is ridiculous. There’s no reason for anyone to be shooting at me. It’s probably a stray shot from a hunter.”

“In town?”

“Well, what’s your explanation?”

He paused then said with pinched lips. “I don’t have one.”

“Doc, there’s a couple of minor lacerations on your scalp, but nothing you need stitches for,” Mike said. “I think I’ve got all the glass out of your hair, but you might want to have a shower.”

“She lost consciousness for a few seconds, what caused that?” Smitty was back, her purse in his left hand.

“What did you do, run there and back?” she asked him.

He shrugged. “Yeah. So, loss of consciousness?”

“I was only out a second or two. It was probably the shock of such a loud noise right next to my head.” She held out her hand. “Help me up.”

He looked at it, but didn’t make any moves to assist. “Are you sure you should be getting on your feet?”

“I was planning on leaning on you.”

“All right then.” He grabbed her hand and helped her to stand.

The world spun, her vision tunnelled and her hearing narrowed to a single wavelength.

“Easy,” Smitty said from a great distance. “Breath deep.”

After a couple of seconds the world got bigger again. She discovered she was sitting on the ground with her head between her knees. “Great, I passed out didn’t I?”

“Not completely.” His voice was a low rumble next to her ear.

She glanced up. He crouched in front of her, his knees outside hers, his hands rubbing up and down her back and shoulders.

It felt way too comforting. Way too good. She could get used to having him around, taking charge, looking after her. But then she’d be lost when he left.

“I’m in shock. I should go home, rest, shower and eat.”

“Now that is a plan I can get behind.”

She moved to rise, but his hands held her down. “Stay right where you are, doc. I’m going to get my Jeep.”

She sighed. “Okay. I’m sure if I try to get up the Sheriff or Mike will sit on me until you get back.”

“They better not lay a hand on you.” He stomped off.

Abby watched him until he disappeared from view behind the crowd of people milling around outside the police tape. Oh God, it was only a matter of time until her parents descended on her. Then there were her aunts, uncles and assorted cousins. All of them were going to show up at her door to see how she was doing. They’d done it for the first two weeks after she’d returned home from
Afghanistan
until she finally had had enough and had a hissy fit about it.

She wasn’t going to get any rest today.

She stuck her head back between her knees.

Voices approached, indistinct from the background noise at first, then settling into a conversation between two males she knew all too well.

“…and keep her away from the windows.”

“I know what to do, Sheriff.”

“Do you? I know all you medical people have to go through basic training, but after that…”

“I was part of Doc Abby’s team as security.”

“Security? In the Army?”

“I was a Marine.”

“A Marine?”

“On special detail.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” Abby interrupted. “That he’s really, really good at keeping people alive.” She looked at Smitty. “Can we go now?”

“Sure, Doc.” He came forward and offered his hand again.

She took it and he slowly helped her to stand.

“Dizzy?”

“A little.”

“Okay, up you go then.” One arm scooped her up under her knees, the other supported her back.

The first thing she noticed was his smell; woodsy and something distinctly his. The second was his dense musculature. Dense and proportionally symmetrical. Especially his shoulders and arms. Abs too. Probably his thighs as well. But she was so not going to find out.

He headed toward his Jeep and spoke to the Sheriff at the same time. “Feel free to check me out. Call the unit’s commander.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Mind getting the door?”

“Oh, sure.” The Sheriff opened the passenger side door and Smitty gently set her down on the seat. He then put the seat belt on around her.

She chose not to complain. Yet.

He got in the driver’s side and pulled away from the yellow tape. “I’m going to need directions.”

“No problem. Turn left at the next intersection.”

“Nice town.”

“Yep. Very nice. Except for the fact that someone tried to kill me.”

“And the immortal homeless guy.”

“He’s not immortal.”

“Oh?”

“No, he’s just old and well…pickled.”

Smitty snorted. “That I can believe. He reeked of booze. And let’s not forget the town doctor who also likes to fish with dynamite instead of a rod.”

“What can I say, I prefer to pitch rather than catch.”

“You don’t like using a rod?”

“Don’t have much experience with rods.”

The pause following that statement was a little bit pregnant. “Want to borrow mine?”

Chapter Four

“
T
his conversation has taken a dangerous turn,” Abby said. “I’d normally have a witty comeback, but my head hurts too much.”

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re playing with explosives,” Smitty suggested.

“Sure, as soon as you tell me why you’re really here in Bandit Creek.”

“I told you, the town hired me to keep you out of trouble, specifically the kind of trouble one might have if they’ve developed a sudden need to blow things up.”

“I haven’t blown anything up.”

“Yet.”

“Why did the town hire you? How did they even know we knew each other? And take this next right.”

He guided the Jeep around the turn then said, “I called your dad.”

Anger chased the half-amused half-terrified mood right out of her body and brain. “You what?”

“I called--”

“I heard what you said, I just can’t believe you’d be that stupid.”

“Hey, no using the S word.”

“Why did you call my father?”

“Remember the day we landed at the airport in
Missoula
?”

Her answer was cautious. “Yeah.” She remembered far too much about that day. Hours of airsickness, a moment of terror and the best kiss she’d ever had in her life. With the man sitting next to her.

“Well, so do I.” He stopped talking.

She waited for him to finish, but he remained silent. “It’s the last house on the right.”

He parked the Jeep, turned off the engine, but didn’t otherwise move. Finally he turned his head to regard her with a sombre gaze. “You’re suffering from post traumatic stress. I think blowing shit up is your coping mechanism.”

“I don’t blow shit up. I might scare some of the fish, but I’m not hurting anyone or anything.”

“The law of averages says you will. Eventually you will.”

“Well, Abby’s fourth law says that how cranky a woman is, is inversely proportional to the amount of food in her stomach.”

“I’ll take that as a hint.” He opened his door then paused. “Wait for me to get you.”

“I’m not an invalid.”

“Just this once, let someone else take care of you.”

She was about argue, when he added, “Please.”

She settled back into her seat and he nodded. He came around the vehicle, opened the door and scooped her out of her seat. He hip-checked the door closed and moved toward the house. “Keys?”

“The backdoor is unlocked.”

“You’re blowing me away with your impressive security system.”

“I’ve got nothing anyone would steal.”

“No electronics, jewellery or cash?”

“My laptop is in a locked closet, I’m not a jewellery person and aside from some pocket change on the side table in my bedroom, my cash is in the bank.”

They got to the backdoor and she twisted around so she could open it. She had to get away from him before she buried her head against his shoulder so she could wallow some more in his smell.

Damn, one whiff and she was an addict.

The inside of her house was cool, the sunlight filtered through the curtains to lay lace over the walls and floor. The furnishings were a comfortable mixture of old and new, some belonged to her grandmother, others were pieces she’d added after moving in.

Smitty stood in the kitchen looking around for a moment. “You want to shower first?”

“Sounds good to me. I want to make sure all the glass is out of my hair.”

“Where is it?”

“You’re not going to put me down, are you?”

He looked down at her and gave her a lazy smile she knew had nothing to do with being lazy. “Nope.”

“Through the doorway and upstairs.”

He climbed the stairs, and after a quick look around, walked into her room and set her down carefully on her feet.

He kept his hands on her shoulders. “You okay?”

“The dizziness seems to have passed.”

“Yeah?”

“You can let me go now.”

“Call me if you need help in the shower.”

“Oh yeah, like I’m going to do that. Nice try buster.”

He squeezed her shoulders. “I’m serious.”

“I’m fine, really. A few minutes under some hot water and I’ll be back to normal.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

She tilted her head to one side. “You’re really worried aren’t you?”

He stroked her cheek. “Yeah, I am.”

“I promise to shout if I have any troubles.” She took a step back out from under his hand, smiled and walked out of the room and into the bathroom next door.

The person she saw in the mirror looked like she’d been through a war zone. “Holy shit.”

“Abby?” Smitty appeared in the doorway.

“No wonder you’re so worried. I look like I got trampled by a stampede of teenagers at a rave.”

Tiny cuts and the beginnings of bruises covered the right side of her face. She combed through her hair with her fingers. “I’m lucky I didn’t lose my eye.”

“Abby.” His voice contained a strained note she’d rarely ever heard from him. “Have your shower.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Okay.” She waved her hands at him. “Out.”

He went and she closed the door, but didn’t lock it. She started the water and took off her clothes. Blood splattered her shirt, and pants too.

“I look like I was attacked by a serial killer,” she muttered as she waited for the water to heat up. Finally hot, she was stepped into the shower and let the water clean the blood out of her hair. She carefully threaded her fingers through the strands, shaking them to loosen any small bits of glass. A shampoo and soap all over later and she felt like she’d washed the whole incident away.

She stepped out of the shower, towelled off, carefully blotting her cuts, then wrapped the towel around her and stepped out of the bathroom.