it,” before disappearing down the hallway.
Cassidy watched him leave. Admittedly she was enjoying the opportunity to practice family medicine in a town where people cared about each other, but Boston was her home. And that kind of decision couldn’t be made lightly.
* * *
It wasn’t until late afternoon that she finally realized she’d been hanging around waiting for something to happen. It didn’t take a genius to realize that something was a certain Navy SEAL and that she’d been waiting for him to come in to have his injuries treated.
Irritated with herself, she’d collected her purse and jacket and was on her way out when the door banged open and there he was, looking like he’d just blown in from a big, bad superheroes convention with his big, bad SEAL attitude.
When her knees wobbled and her head went light, Cassidy assured herself it was simply because she hadn’t eaten anything all day. It certainly didn’t have anything to do with the way his gold eyes latched onto her like a tractor beam.
Gesturing to an empty suture room, Cassidy wordlessly handed her jacket and purse to the receptionist and ignored the jitters in her belly as the sheriff half-dragged, half-carried him down the corridor and through the doorway to heave him onto the narrow bed. And just like that, every delusional thought she’d had in the early hours blew up right in her face.
“You may now stick him with as many needles as you like,” the sheriff announced, shoving his hands on his hips and glaring at his brother. “In fact, that’s an official order. Maybe it will improve his attitude and I won’t have to toss him in jail again for disobeying a direct order.”
“I said I was fine,” the SEAL snarled as Greg, the young deputy who’d helped drag him into the examination room, ducked his head and made a beeline for the door.
Wise move, she thought when a string of muttered threats turned the air blue. She might be relieved he’d made it back in one piece but it had been a long day and an even longer night, obsessing about whether or not she had been imagining things. The good news was that she was sane and not hallucinating. The bad news was, Cassidy thought with a sinking sensation, he was even more dangerously attractive in the cold light of day.
And that was bad. Very bad. Because Cassidy Mahoney was done with dangerous bad boys who made women swoon. She really was too busy getting her life back to deal with two hundred and forty pounds of belligerent male.
It seemed the sheriff was too since he folded his arms across his chest and glared at his brother, clearly not intimidated by the show of aggression. “And if he gives you any trouble, make him wear a pretty pink hospital gown,” he barked, ignoring the way Sam’s lip drew back over his teeth in a silent snarl. “He deserves to have everyone laugh at his ugly butt after the stunt he pulled.”
Cassidy watched the silent clash of wills and her first thought was that nothing about Major Kellan was ugly. She was pretty sure her staff wouldn’t be laughing either. More like swooning from the thick cloud of testosterone and bad attitude that surrounded him.
A fierce golden gaze caught and held hers as though he knew what she was thinking, and Cassidy felt a flush creep up her neck into her cheeks. Besides being grossly unprofessional, picturing him naked wouldn’t do a thing to convince her she’d imagined her earlier reaction to him.
The sheriff raked his hand through his wet hair, looking tired and exasperated. “Listen up, man,” he growled, “I know you’re a big, mean SEAL and everything, but just let the doc check you out, okay? I don’t have time to babysit you or keep you from bleeding to death. You wouldn’t believe the paperwork. It’s a nightmare. Elections are coming up and I can’t afford to have you die and make me look bad.”
“I keep telling you I’m fine,” Sam snarled. “Quit hovering like a girl. There’s nothing Old Monty can do that I can’t do for myself, so get the hell out of my face before I break your ugly mug.”
“Oh, please.” Ruben snickered rudely. “You can’t even break a sweat without help. Now suck it up and let the doc check you out. You look like hell.”
Samuel said something that Cassidy was pretty sure was anatomically impossible but before her eyes could do more than widen, Ruben turned to her with a grim smile. “Doc, he’s all yours, just as I promised. He’s a bit more battered and bloodied but I refuse to take credit for that. He’s a hard-headed pain in the ass so you might consider sedating him.” He sent his brother a meaningful glare. “In fact, unconscious would be a real improvement.”
Ignoring the derisive suggestion, Sam turned narrowed eyes her way. “Doc?” he demanded. “You’re the doctor?” His tone suggested she’d deliberately misled him. “I thought you were the nurse.”
“No,” she corrected smoothly. “You thought I was a stripper.”
“And with that,” Ruben drawled mockingly, “I rest my case.” He slapped his hat on his head and adjusted the brim. “Cassidy, ignore the inscrutable death stares. Underneath all that macho SEAL hoo-yah attitude he’s really quite sweet.”
The SEAL snarled something impolite and with a deep laugh the sheriff sketched a salute and disappeared down the hallway, leaving Cassidy with two hundred pounds of seething testosterone. Sweet wasn’t a word she’d associate with Major Hotstuff, she mused, moving to the supply cabinet for a towel. Just the idea of it made her want to smile. So she frowned instead.
“So,” he said, taking the towel and fixing her with his mesmerizing stare, “you’re a doctor.”
She sent him a cool look then turned to remove disinfectant and a package of swabs from the overhead cabinet. “Is that a problem, Major, or an apology?”
His amused gaze drifted over her face and breasts to the neat row of supplies she’d begun setting out and he drawled, “Only if you’re plotting revenge.”
“Fortunately for you I’m not the vengeful type, Major.”
His mouth curled at one corner and he said, “Uh-huh” into the towel. Cassidy ignored the impulse to bang her head against the wall. She had a feeling it would be a lot less painful than getting caught up in the man’s web.
Fortunately, her little chat with the elderly doctor had reminded her of why she was off men in anything but the professional sense. Flicking him an assessing glance, she decided the sheriff was right. He did look like hell.
“There’s no one to save you from the needle this time, Major.” She opened another cabinet and removed a suture kit and syringes. “In fact—” her voice was brisk as she moved closer “—I can foresee more than one in your immediate future.”
Ignoring the dark eyebrow hiking up his forehead, she stepped close and pushed the soaked parka over his wide shoulders and down his arms. He shrugged and sucked in a sharp breath, before drawling, “Not just beautiful and smart, but psychic too?”
Cassidy bit back a snort and tossed the garment onto the floor, before turning to wash her hands at the small basin. “It doesn’t take a clairvoyant to see that you’re an action junkie looking for trouble,” she replied smoothly, pulling a strip off the paper towel dispenser.
He shrugged. “Goes with the job.”
“For which the free world is eternally grateful.” She dried her hands and dropped the paper into the bin as she turned. She caught his eyes crinkling at the corners as though he didn’t take himself half as seriously as other people did, which...surprised her. She was accustomed to being surrounded by alpha males who thought they sat at God’s right hand. Discovering he could poke fun at himself had something warm and light sliding into her belly. Something that felt very much like admiration.
Telling herself that certainly didn’t mean she liked him, Cassidy focused on his once white T-shirt, now covered in mud and blood. Shaking her head, she pulled it out of his damp waistband and grabbed a pair of scissors off the counter.
With a few snips, his shirt fell away and she quickly