Everything seems to be in the right place. I sit back on my heels and try to pull my hand out, but it’s stuck. I wiggle and pry, trying to get free. Pain stabs my forearm, and I reflexively draw back, causing more pain. Now my arm is stuck in the engine. “Perfect.”
I hang the light on a deck chair and feel around with my other hand to figure out a way to get my injured arm back without any more damage. But, shit, it hurts like a mother, and the sticky warmth on my skin tells me I’m bleeding. Then and there, I decide to make Chloe drive to Santa Barbara for our Christmas Eve dinner tonight, so I can have an extra drink, or ten.
But that won’t happen if I can’t figure out how the hell to get my arm out of here without making things worse. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“What are you doing?” Laiyla’s voice coincides with the click of her heels on the dock.
“I thought you left for dinner with Levi already.”
“He’s on his way. Why are you all contorted like that?”
“I’m trying to find the source of a knock that’s driving me insane.”
She bends to look into the compartment. “How did you even get your arm in there?”
I lean my shoulder against the deck and use my free hand to point. “Hold this lever up, please. But be careful. I’d rather not have both of us stuck in here.”
While Laiyla reaches in and presses against the metal lever that’s trapping my arm, I use my other hand to help maneuver my injured arm from the compartment. When I’m free, I sit back on my heels and inspect my arm, and shit, it’s worse than I thought. A long, deep cut bleeds along my forearm. My first thought is that when I go into the emergency room, they’re going to think I was trying to commit suicide.
“Well, shit,” I mutter.
“Oh my God.” Laiyla pulls out her phone. “I’m calling 9-1-1.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Chloe is suddenly beside me, silent on bare feet. “You need stitches.”
“Just what I want to do tonight.”
Headlights appear in the parking lot.
“That’s Levi,” Laiyla says, standing. “Come on, we’ll take you.”
“I’ll finished getting dressed,” Chloe says, “and meet you there.”
I hate all the fuss, but I’ve learned it’s easier to just accept it than to try to stop it.
“Grab me one of those rags,” I tell Laiyla, who can’t take her eyes off the wound. Even under the colored lights, I see her face go pale. “Stop looking, or you’ll puke.”
She picks up several rags I have lying nearby. “These can’t be clean.”
“I just pulled them from the wash. They’re just stained.”
“If they’re stained, by definition they can’t be clean.”
I roll my eyes and grab the one she’s inspecting with a scowl.
“Don’t bitch to me when you get tetanus,” she says.
When I stand, I’m surprised by light-headedness. I’ve certainly been through worse. A few more stitches in me should be a walk in the park. I’m grateful when Laiyla takes me by the arm and leads me toward Levi’s truck.
“She needs to go to the ER,” Laiyla tells Levi.
He assesses me. “The ER? On Christmas Eve? You have shit timing, Rivers.”
“Suck it, Asher.” Levi’s become like a big brother to me. He’s the contractor on the renovation, and I’m handling all the mechanical issues in the marina, so we’re always in each other’s space. Luckily, we get along. Mostly.
Once we’re on the road to the ER, Levi looks across Laiyla to me. “I bet you heard Santa’s gonna be at the hospital tonight. You just want to scope out the presents.”
I huff a laugh. “Maybe he’ll have some common sense for me this year.”
“I’m thinking you’re more likely to get lockjaw from that disgusting towel,” Laiyla says.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” Levi says, “and she’ll get both.”
“Ha,” I say.
Levi drops us at the doors to the emergency room and heads to the parking lot to leave the truck. The ER is quiet, thank goodness. I check in at the desk, and I’m taken straight back.
On my way past the nursing station, someone laughs, and the deep, rich sound of it replaces my spine with a hot spear. I scan the people behind the desk and spot the owner of that laugh. He’s wearing blue scrubs, and I sum him up in seconds. Golden-blond hair with a nice cut, tanned biceps, wide chest, flat abs. No telling whether he’s a nurse, a doctor, or some kind of technician, but I’ve never seen him in town, which is a very big tick in the pro column. After six months here, I’ve met all the regulars. The fact that I don’t know who he is means he doesn’t circulate much, and that means he could be a good candidate for extracurricular activities.
I pull one of Chloe’s millions of prayers out of my back pocket and send it silently toward heaven.
Archangel Chamuel, I could use a mini miracle in the sex department. We can totally skip right over the romance. No sense in taxing yourself any more than necessary.
I watch my prey as I pass, hoping to get a look at his full face, although his profile and the way he wears those shapeless scrubs is enough for me. Then bam, right before I follow the nurse into a glass-walled room, he turns his head and looks at me.
When our eyes meet, I suffer a solid sucker punch. He’s fucking gorgeous. And so totally not my type.
I deflate a little and look away. In my experience, guys that pretty are either insecure or arrogant. Generally, they’re tedious pains in the ass. I don’t need sex that badly.
Okay, maybe I do, but I don’t have the patience for high maintenance. And I’ve been with enough guys to know the best-looking ones are always the highest maintenance.
Laiyla sits in a side chair while the nurse takes my basic information and looks at the wound. She sucks air through her teeth before meeting my gaze again. “You’re in luck. Our new physician happens to be extremely skilled with a needle and thread.”
I smirk. “Lucky. That’s my middle name.”
“He’ll be right in.” The nurse exits and walks behind the counter to enter information into a computer.
The only “he” I’ve seen in this department so far is Pretty Boy. At least this happened when I was dressed to go out and not when I’m wearing the torn pajamas I normally use to lounge around the boat. I mean, these are my one pair of good jeans, knee-high leather boots Chloe and Laiyla talked me into buying on a shopping trip in Santa Barbara, and the new flannel button-down Laiyla gave me for Christmas, open over a fitted white tank. I even straightened my hair. Seriously, this is as good as it gets in my world. Of course, no one but Laiyla, Chloe, and Levi could appreciate my current blinged-out state, but it still gives me a little boost of confidence.
Laiyla pulls out her phone. “I’m going to tell Levi to go ahead without me.”
“No, don’t do that,” I tell her. “I’ve had so many stitches, I could put them in myself.”
An aide comes in and offers a clipboard with forms. Laiyla takes it, and I try to steal it away. When she gives me a what-the-hell look, I hold out my good hand and lift my chin toward the door. “Give them to me. I’ve got this, you can go. Don’t mess up your evening with Levi’s family.”