“It isn’t a request, Doctor, it’s an order.”
He held up his hand and gave her a weary smile. “I love it when you talk dirty, Nurse.”
“I’m not interested in your teasing,” she said in a flat tone, studying his hand. “This needs to be changed and stitched up.” She pulled her bag closer and shined the flashlight into it.
“It’ll wait.”
“No, it won’t. Sit up and hold out your good hand.” She retrieved the items she needed from the bag and put them in his good hand.
“I’m putting stitches in. You shouldn’t need but about eight or ten.”
“What?” He tried to pull his injured hand away. “No way. Two or three, max.”
She smiled. “Settle down. I was just kidding.”
“You’d better be.” Court relaxed his hand, letting her hold it again.
“This is going to hurt.” She drew lidocaine from a vial into the syringe. “You ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry,” she said as she inserted the needle into the skin surrounding his wound. She wished she was the one being stitched up instead of him.
“Just get on with it, Maggie.”
She nodded. As she pushed the needle into his skin, he flinched and hissed but he didn’t jerk away. She admired his fortitude as she made another entry. It upset her to have to hurt him.
“Maggie…”
“Uh?” She concentrated on getting it right, so she wouldn’t have to hurt him any more than necessary.
“Stop biting your lip. You’re going to make it bleed.”
“Oh,” she muttered, licking her lip, without taking her eyes away from the job at hand.
He made sound low in his throat. “And don’t do that.”
“What? I have to make another stitch.”
“Nothing.”
Minutes later she said, “There,” as she tied the last small knot. “Done.” She smiled at him but he didn’t look as pleased as she felt. Even in the faint light he looked a little pale. “I know it hurts like heck. I did the best I could.”
“Stop chattering, Maggie, and let’s get some sleep.”
“I don’t chatter,” she said in a crisp tone, securing the bandage on his hand.
“That’s more like my Maggie. We need to be on the road, uh, the path, uh, whatever, by sunup.”
His Maggie? When had she become his Maggie?
Her heart did a flip-flop and a river of warmth washed over her. She kind of liked the sound of that. What would it feel like to belong to Court?
Leaning across the seat, she placed a hand on Neetie. His breathing had eased and he felt cooler than he had been earlier. She flipped off the light and started to lie down.
“You’re going to sleep in your clothes?” Court asked, his voice full of disbelief.
“Yes.”
“No, you’re not. I’m not going to have you squirming around all night, trying to get comfortable. Strip.”
Her heart jumped. “I’m not going—”
“Maggie!”
By his tone of voice, she knew better than to disagree. She began to remove her clothes. Her elbow hit something hard as she pulled off her shirt.
“Turn on the light so you can see what you’re doing,” Court demanded, pain evident in his voice.
“No.” Her stomach dipped. She wasn’t doing a striptease for him.
Court grunted when her knee hit something soft while she removed her shorts.
“Woman, are you trying to kill me?”
Maggie was thankful her embarrassment didn’t show under the cover of darkness. “I’m sorry, it’s such a tight space.”
“You know, watching you undress by flashlight would’ve been the highlight of an otherwise lousy day.”
Court’s rich voice with his own brand of humor sounded even sexier in the pitch dark. She tingled at the thought of his piercing blue eyes watching her undress. “Sorry, no such luck. We have to save the batteries.”
“Remind me to buy extra ones for the next time we’re stranded together.”
“I’ll put it on the list.”
She lay beside him but on top of the bedroll. “What’re you doing?”
“Going to sleep.”
“You’re going to freeze out there. Stop being silly and get under here.”
“But—”
“Maggie, if you’re worried about your virtue, don’t be. I don’t feel up to doing anything other than sleep. Come on, be a realist.”
Somehow he’d managed to make her sound like a shrew. She found the edge of the blanket and flipped it back. A big hand touched her hip as she stretched out beside him before it slipped up to circle her waist. She went cold, then hot. He pulled her into position beside him, lying back to front, making his arm her pillow.
“Relax and get some sleep,” he said into her ear before his lips brushed the top curve of it.
The sound of rain on the tarp enveloped them.
“Court?”
“Mmm?”
“I’m sorry I bossed you around about the mud on your boots. Force of habit.”
“How’s that?” His words were warm across her cheek.
She’d never explained her childhood to anyone before. Did she want Court to be the first person she told? Somehow, she believed he of all people would understand.
“My father expected my mother and me to act and look perfect. Daddy was a stickler for everything being just right. Clothes, hair, the house, the car, you name it, everything had to be just so. When it rained and I’d left muddy tracks, I was in trouble. Big trouble. Stay in my room for days trouble.”
“So how did he act when people came over?”
She’d wanted friends to come by after school, have sleepovers, but her mother had always said no. Even then Maggie had dreamed of having a big family. She wasn’t mad at her parents, only sad they couldn’t seem to see she craved having people around her.
“That didn’t happen. I always had to go to my friends’ houses. Mom and I lived in fear of my father’s anger and she finally reached a point she worried he might start hitting us when we weren’t just as he expected.”
“Now I understand why you pay such particular attention to your hair.”
“Dad was always on me to keep my hair out of my face. Keep it tied back.”
“I like it down. Free. It’s beautiful.”
A warmth she’d never experienced before filled her. “Thanks.”
“That’s why you’re so self-reliant, isn’t?” he said, giving her a gentle squeeze.
His statement hurt for some reason
. “I’m not that bad, am I?”
“Yeah, but I like you anyway.” His soft chuckle brushed her ear.
A burst of joy filled her even as she pushed at his arm in retaliation for his banter.
“Stop wriggling. I’m already having a hard enough time lying here with you.”
She opened her mouth to respond but he growled, “Shut up, Maggie, and go to sleep.”
* * *
Maggie felt Court shifting against her as he moved to check on Neetie.
“Maggie—”
She became intently alert. “What’s wrong?”
“Neetie’s fever has spiked. He’s unconscious.”
“He can’t—”
“Think positive.” His words were thin, slicing through her terror.
Feeling no self-consciousness, only distress over Neetie, she sat up, clicked on the flashlight and found her clothes.
Court slid to the end of the truck taking his clothes bag with him, giving her enough room to maneuver. “We need to get to Teligu ASAP. We’re leaving now, dark or not. The sun should be up soon anyway.” He’d jerked his clothes on and put on his boots. “I want you to get the water and find something to use as a compress. He needs to have his arms and chest bathed. We’ve got to bring the fever down.”
Minutes later Court sat behind the steering wheel and Maggie climbed in on the other side. Court found first gear while she located the water jug on the floor and searched through the medicine bag. She pulled out a bottle, shook out two pills and offered them to Court.
“I told you—”
“I know what you told me but I saw you flinch when you climbed into the truck and you have to use it to change gears. If you’re worried about staying awake, I’ll talk to you.”
“I don’t want them.”
“Maybe so but you’re going to take them anyway.” She grasped the wrist of his good hand and dropped the capsules into his palm. “Take them for me, please.”
In a resigned voice, he said, “Thanks. I’m going to be driving fast. Wedge yourself between the seats so you won’t get hurt while seeing to Neetie. The last thing we need is for you to have a busted head.”