CHAPTER FOUR
Shane
I bite my lip hard as my thoughts race.
It isn’t the flat-out denial I told myself I needed to hear in order to move forward, but then Jake isn’t the man I expected him to be, either. He isn’t an arrogant jerk. He’s a seemingly nice, compassionate guy who’s found himself in a scary situation and needs help.
I’m inclined to think he needs help from the police and a good therapist more than an MBC intervention, but…
“I’ll go,” Jake says, breaking into my thoughts. “Sorry I wasted your time.” He stands, eating up the ground between the bench and the gate with long, swift steps.
“Wait! Don’t go.” I jump to my feet. “You haven’t wasted my time.”
He turns, his expression guarded and his shoulders tense, making me wonder which arm has the stab wound in it.
Jesus Christ. A stab wound.
A stab wound. This is insane!
I was prepared to help Jake ditch his crazy ex-girlfriend, but I didn’t think she would be stab-a-person crazy, or that I would be dealing with a man who has a pathological avoidance to going to the police.
“So I’m guessing you didn’t report the stabbing to the authorities.” I cross my arms tight and frown thoughtfully, trying to act like I have some idea what to do in a situation like this one. “Since you don’t do cops?”
An increasingly familiar stubborn expression firms his features. “No. I don’t want this getting out. The press would have a field day.”
“But this is a crime,” I say, hoping I can get him to see reason. “A serious one. Bare minimum, Keri assaulted you with a deadly weapon. I don’t know all the details, and I’m not a lawyer, but I see how a case could even be made for attempted murder.”
He shakes his head. “She wasn’t trying to kill me.”
“You don’t know that. She was angry and she stabbed you, Jake. Stabbed. Hard, from the way you described it.” I hold out my arm, letting my fingers hover above his chest. “What if her aim had been a little closer to the center? She could have plunged the knife into your heart.”
He shakes his head again, but with less conviction. “She wanted to hurt me in the moment, not take me out permanently.”
“Right.” I don’t even try to keep the dubiousness from my tone. “Well, what about your work? What did your doctor say? Is the injury going to impact your game?”
“I’ll be fine.” He rolls his left shoulder. “I heal fast, and I’m good with pain.”
“But what did your doctor say?” An ugly suspicion tickles through my gut. “You did go to a doctor, didn’t you?”
He shrugs, scowling. “It’s fine. I’ve been roughed up enough to know the difference between serious and not serious.”
“You’re kidding me,” I say, though I know he’s not. “This is so not okay, buddy, not even close.” I point to the gate. “Outside. Street. Now.”
“So that’s it?” Hurt flashes in his eyes before they go cold. “You’re out? Just like that?”
“No, I’m not out. I’m coming with you.” I grab my purse from the bench and tuck it under my arm. “We’re going to flag a cab and get you to the nearest emergency room.”
He grunts. “I’m not going to the emergency room. There’s no emergency.”
My eyes go so wide that I’m pretty sure I pull my lateral rectus. “You were stabbed! You have a stab wound! How is that not an emergency?”
“It’s a five-day-old stab wound that’s healing just fine,” he insists in a calm, determined voice that reminds me of my best friend Cat, who is also stubborn as hell and ridiculously bad at taking care of herself. “It’s too late for stiches, and that’s all a doctor would do.”
“It is not. They would also check to see if you have a localized infection,” I say, refusing to back down. “And if the knife went deep enough to nick bone, you should be checked for osteomyelitis, a serious bone infection. You could need a broad spectrum antibiotic and maybe even surgery to debride the infected tissue.”
A sharp, appraising look creeps into his dark eyes. “So you’re a doctor?”
“A vet,” I say. “But you’d be surprised by the overlap. Animals and humans aren’t as different as most people would like to think.”
“Then you can check me out,” he says, as if it’s the most logical conclusion in the world. “Make sure everything’s healing up the way it should.”
“No, I can’t! I treat four-legged creatures. And I’m not even licensed to treat them in New York. I haven’t had time to file the paperwork since I moved.”
“Moved from where?”
“Georgia.” I frown at the sudden change of subject. “Atlanta, but I don’t—”
“A Georgia peach,” he says, nodding as if that explains something about me.
“I’m nothing of the sort.” I lift my chin, wanting to make it clear I’m no sweet, southern belle who will let herself be bullied by a hockey player too stupid to get his butt to the doctor after he was stabbed. “I was born and raised in the city and got my degree from NYU. I only moved to Georgia because my fiancé was doing his residency there.”
Jake nods. “So how does your fiancé feel about you pretending to be my girlfriend for a few weeks? He okay with another man being all over you? Because Keri’s not going to be fooled by the two of us holding hands and having polite conversation.”
“He’s not in the picture anymore,” I say, refusing to think about Wesley, or about Jake being “all over me.” Both are thought-avenues best avoided. “Which is good news for you because my fiancé would not have been cool with what I’m about to do. He would have been concerned about malpractice and potentially killing someone. But seeing as you’re too pig-headed to go to a doctor and I’m not big enough to throw you over my shoulder and carry you, I guess an exam by a vet who wants you to stay alive is better than nothing.”
I’m expecting more arguments and stubbornness, but instead he smiles.
He smiles—a real, fully-formed, ear-to-ear grin featuring slightly crooked teeth and perfectly placed dimples—and I forget that he’s the most frustrating man on the planet. He’s just so flipping beautiful, so stunning to look at and so sexy that my panties start smoldering all over again.
“Well, thank you,” he says in a deep, kerosene-on-an-open-flame voice. “I appreciate that. The woman I’m dating wanting to keep me alive isn’t something I’ll be taking for granted anytime soon.”
“We aren’t dating, Falcone,” I say sternly. “We’re pretending to date. And there are rules we need to go over before we move forward. But seeing as you’re in need of medical attention, the rest of orientation can wait until I check you out.”
“All right.” He reaches for the bottom of his shirt. “You want to do this here, doc? Or someplace more private? I’m fine either way.”
I arch a brow, pretending to be bored by the prospect of his impending nakedness. “So you’re fine with baring your chest, just not your dirty laundry?”
He grins again. “That’s right. Never been the shy type when it comes to taking my clothes off.”
My cheeks flush, but somehow I managed to keep my voice steady as I point one hand toward the door. “Let’s go upstairs to my place. My supplies are there. There’s not much I can do for you in the garden and if any of the HOA members see me hanging out with a half-naked man in a communal area, I’ll be even more on their shit list than I am already.”
“Your place it is.” He nods, still smiling as he falls in beside me on the winding cobblestone path leading to the building. “And thank you. Again. I’m glad you’ve decided to take my case.”
“You’re welcome.” I nod, trying to play it cool even as the panty fire spreads to burn across every inch of my body and a voice in my head warns that no good will come of this decision.
But I could no more send Jake on his way now than I could kick a dog with a thorn in its paw.
Jake Falcone in dragon mode is a dark, sexy, intimidating force of nature, but Jake hopeful and smiling and thankful for my help is flat out irresistible.