Her Maverick M.d.. Teresa Southwick

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      Doubt cut through the kid’s stubborn expression. “Would that hurt?”

      “Yeah it would.” Jon shrugged. “Bottom line is you’ll spend what’s left of your summer in the house with your leg propped up.”

      “Mom—”

      “He’s the doctor, Tuck.” Molly looked sympathetic but resigned.

      “How bad will stitches hurt?”

      “A little. But probably not as much as when you fell.” In his experience treating children, it helped not to talk down to them. Jon believed in telling the patient exactly what was going to happen. “I’ll swab some medicine around the cut so when I give you the shot to numb the area it won’t hurt as bad. I promise you won’t feel any pain when I close up that laceration.”

      “You’ll still have to keep it clean,” Dawn said. “But it won’t take as long to heal and you’ll have a little summer left to get as dirty as you want.”

      “He probably appreciates permission to be grubby, but trust me, he doesn’t need it.” Molly tenderly brushed the hair off his forehead. “It is what it is. A little summer left is better than nothing. Man up, buddy.”

      “Okay.” He glared. “But I’m not going to look.”

      “Me, either,” Jon said.

      “You have to.” Tucker saw his grin and looked sheepish. “Oh. You’re messing with me.”

      “I am.” Jon saw Dawn smile, then shut it down when she glanced at him.

      Jon tamped down his irritation. The way she always did that was really starting to bug him. But he couldn’t deal with it now. Soon, though.

      “I’ll go get a suture kit.” She left the room.

      He washed his hands at the exam room sink and in a few minutes when Dawn returned he was ready.

      “Okay, Tuck, here we go. When you’re all patched up you can get your mom to take you for ice cream.”

      “But it’s almost dinnertime.”

      “I bet she’ll make an exception this one time,” Dawn said.

      “That can be arranged.” Molly put her arm across her son’s shoulders. “Be brave, kiddo.”

      “What if I cry?”

      Jon took the syringe of lidocaine and prepared to inject it. “From my perspective, as long as you hold still, you can cry, scream and swear.”

      “I can say bad words?” Apparently using bad language without punishment was more exciting than ice cream.

      His mom was squirming now. “Do you even know any curse words?”

      “I’ve heard dad say some stuff—”

      “Here we go. A little pinch,” Jon said. He gently pricked the skin with the needle. “How you doing, Tuck?” Jon quickly glanced up.

      “Okay. It hurt at first. But now it just feels like you’re pushing on my leg.”

      “Good. That’s what should happen. It’s going to take a little time for the medicine to work, but that was the worst of it. Now we’re going to clean out the cut so it doesn’t get infected. Then I’ll do the stitches and put a big Band-Aid on it so the girls will be impressed.”

      The kid made a face and looked as if he was in real pain. “I don’t like girls.”

      “You don’t have to.” Give it a couple years, Jon thought. Then you might get to work with a girl who hated your guts and you had no clue why. When they were finished here he was going to find out what was going on with her.

      Jon finished quickly then bandaged the knee. “You’ll need to change the dressing every day. Bring him back in a week and I’ll check to see if the stitches are ready to come out.”

      “Does it hurt when you take out stitches?” Tucker wanted to know.

      “Nah. And you know I would tell you if it did.”

      “I know.” Tucker looked relieved.

      “Thank you,” his mom said, helping her son off the exam table.

      “You’re welcome. See you, buddy.”

      Tucker looked up at him. “You’re a pretty good doctor.”

      “You’re a pretty good patient.”

      Dawn opened the door and said to the mom, “When you check out up front, Brandy will make a follow-up appointment. Remind her to give you the sheet with instructions on how to deal with the stitches.”

      “Will do.”

      After mother and son walked out Dawn started cleaning up the room, though she still wouldn’t look at him. This was as good a time as any to say what was on his mind.

      “Dawn, I’d like to talk to you.” He slid his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat.

      “All right.”

      That was the appropriate response but the stubborn look in her eyes and the step back she took clearly reflected her attitude.

      There was no point in beating around the bush. “You obviously have a problem with me.”

      “What makes you say that?”

      At least she didn’t flat out deny it. “You’re exhibiting all the symptoms. Refusing to call me by my first name. Avoiding me when possible. Remaining professional but cool.”

      “I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

      “Technically there’s not. But with Emmet and everyone else on staff here at the clinic you’re warm and friendly. I’m the only one you treat differently.”

      “Do you have a problem with my work?” she asked.

      “No. You’re an excellent nurse.”

      “Then I’m not sure what to say.”

      That she liked him. Thought he wasn’t bad looking. Maybe she was even a little bit attracted to him. Anything but this robotic Stepford-nurse routine.

      “Look, you and I both know that working as closely together as we do, things flow more smoothly if staff gets along and has each other’s back.”

      “I couldn’t agree more,” she said emphatically.

      That was the first time she’d shown any real spirit to him since the day he’d walked into the clinic. “Okay, then. Let’s fix this. We’re finished for the day. Join me for a drink at the Ace in the Hole.”

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