Carly looked up, surprised. “What were you doing that for?”
“Is that a question on the form?” He winked. She quickly looked back down.
“Um, no. Sorry. I was just curious.” Or nosey. She tried to stay focused. “Normally stitches can be handled at the Della Urgent Care Clinic,” she explained, returning to the insurance section on the form. “Did you call there first?”
“Yes,” Mike answered. “They weren’t open when I called. I cut my hand pretty early this morning. I got their answering service. Then, the doc on call referred me here and I had to sit in the waiting room for a long time.”
“Yep, sorry.” She had heard this complaint before. “But there was a terrible accident on the highway and those patients take precedence over your cut.”
“Gotcha.” He smiled. She melted and looked away. “And in answer to your earlier question, I collect rocks and stones and interesting looking things for my job.”
“Gotcha.” She repeated him, and purposely did not ask his occupation although she was damn curious. Still, she would not indulge him with any interest on her part. After all, he made it quite clear on Friday night he was not interested in her, just her house.
Carly returned to the form. “Anybody you’d like notified of your injury?”
“A doctor.”
Carly tried not to smile. Her professionalism was ready to leap out the window, especially when his eyes twinkled as he grinned at his own joke.
“I meant next of kin, something like that. A significant other perhaps?” She paused. “You know, like a wife?” Oh God, did I just say that?
“Nope. I’m divorced.”
“Sorry,” she said, not sorry at all to hear he was single.
“Don’t be.”
“Sorry or divorced?” Carly smiled and crooked her head. God, what am I doing? Now I’m flirting! And with my patient! This has to stop. But she couldn’t help it. Her brain turned to putty around him.
“Don’t be sorry about my divorce.”
“Okay.” She offered a sympathetic smile, and hoped compassion turned him on. Stop it, Carly!
They managed to work through the next few questions without incident or amorous content. She hoped his answers might jog her memory as to where she knew him. She’d been trying to remember since she met him.
“Occupation?” Oh good. Now she’d find out what his job was! She had to ask him. It was on the form.
“Teacher.”
Carly looked up again. “Really?”
“Really.”
“What do you teach?”
“Is that necessary for the form or are you asking out of interest?” His voice teased.
Both.
She answered matter-of-factly and retained her professional composure. She would not give him one iota of pleasure that she was happy to see him again. “Well, if your injury requires you to request time off work, there’s another form for that.”
I never would have guessed him to be a teacher. Calvin Klein Underwear model? Yes. Studious teacher guy? No way.
Mike observed his bandaged hand. “Nah, I won’t need that form.”
Chapter Five
Start from the beginning
