Midnight, Moonlight & Miracles. Teresa Southwick

scrapes and one nasty-looking wound on his shoulder.

      “You’re in no condition to leave the hospital,” she said.

      “If one of you could call me a cab, I’ll just be on my way.” He looked from the doctor back to her.

      “You’ve still got abrasions that need cleaning up and the laceration on your shoulder needs a couple of stitches,” the doctor said. “If you’ll just lie back down—”

      “Thanks but no thanks.”

      Simon tore the leads off either side of his chest and the one in the center. Then he did the same thing to the ones on his legs. The sound of Velcro ripping followed as he forcefully removed the blood pressure cuff from his arm. Megan remembered that she’d had to find an adult large to accommodate his impressive biceps.

      Inane thought. And one she didn’t have time to analyze, because the idiot was going to leave without treatment. Before she could decide how to stop him or if she should even try, he removed the medical tape and IV from his arm. Blood dripping down the inside of his forearm mobilized her in a hurry.

      She grabbed some gauze squares and pressed them against his skin to stanch the flow. Simon Reynolds must really hate hospitals. But in his condition it was the best place for him. She had a feeling rational arguments wouldn’t get through to him.

      “I say we let him go.” She directed her comment to the doctor.

      “I knew I liked you,” Simon said with an approving smile.

      Dr. Sullivan pushed his glasses farther up on his nose. “Megan, I don’t think—”

      “How far can he get? Between the leg and head injuries, it’s just a matter of what takes him down first. The leg will probably buckle—if he can stand at all. He’s pretty alert, but that bump on the head is bound to make him dizzy. Then there’s the blood loss—” She shrugged and bent his arm up toward his chest to maintain pressure that would help stop the bleeding. “I have a dollar that says he bites the dust as soon as he puts weight on the leg.”

      “A whole buck?” Amusement chased the traces of pain from Simon’s face. “You’re not very sure of your diagnosis.”

      “If I had more money and a sucker around here who’d take the bet, I could clean up,” she retorted. She glanced at the doctor. “We can just stand here and watch him pass out. Or on the off chance he makes it out of here, we can follow the blood trail.”

      “I thought nurses were supposed to be angels of mercy.”

      She looked back at him. “I told you I’m no angel.”

      “What about the mercy part?”

      “Any moron who rides a motorcycle without a helmet, then tries to leave the hospital before he’s physically ready doesn’t deserve mercy.”

      Simon lifted one dark eyebrow. “She’s tough as nails, Doc,” he said.

      “I’m glad she got through to you. Now then, we’ll clean you up and admit you—”

      “I didn’t say I’d changed my mind.”

      Dr. Sullivan stared in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. A man in your condition—”

      “I’m dead serious.” He started to slide off the gurney.

      “No,” Megan cried. She hadn’t expected him to call her bluff.

      She instantly moved forward, insinuating herself between his legs to keep him on the gurney. For all her bravado, she was afraid he would hurt himself, do more damage than he’d already done.

      When he slid down nudging her backward, she wedged her shoulder beneath his armpit and encircled his waist with her arm. He was heavy. She knew muscle weighed more than fat, and he had an abundance of one and no discernible trace of the other.

      “Listen to reason,” she ground out.

      When he met her gaze, his own snapped with stubbornness. “So it was an act? You’re not going to let me fall or follow the blood trail?”

      “Look, if you don’t get the medical attention you need, you’re going to be one gigantic infection and that will probably finish you off.”

      “She’s right, Mr. Reynolds.” The doctor went to his other side and helped Megan get him back on the gurney.

      “You can’t keep me here if I don’t choose to stay.”

      “Of course we can,” Megan said, bluffing again.

      “Liar.” Simon’s forehead beaded with perspiration. “I’m a regular. I know the rules.”

      She looked at the ER doctor for help. “Do something.”

      “You know as well as I do that he’s within his rights to refuse treatment. Is there anyone at home who can look after you?”

      Simon shook his head. “I don’t need anyone.”

      “You do need medical care.” Dr. Sullivan rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.

      “What kind of care?” Simon asked.

      She met his gaze. “Stitches on the shoulder or you’ll have the mother of all scars.”

      “Chicks love scars.”

      “Says who? And scars aren’t the issue. But a nasty infection could ruin your day. The rest of your boo-boos need debriding.”

      “What’s that?” he asked.

      “You don’t know? With all your experience, I assumed you’d be familiar with the procedure. But I see you’re an equal opportunity catastrophe. Debriding is where I pick the gravel out while you bite on a stick.”

      One corner of his mouth lifted. “Way to make me want to stay,” he said wryly.

      “We’ll give you a local anesthetic,” the doctor explained. “But it’s got to be done.”

      “Here?”

      “Unless you sign yourself out AMA,” Megan said. “Against medical advice,” she translated. Although he probably already knew. “If you leave and fall down, you could hurt yourself even worse. But you’ll have no legal recourse with the hospital.”

      “I’ll risk it—”

      “Why do you want to?” She put her hands on her hips. “Look, you gave us your insurance card, so I know you’re covered.”

      “Money isn’t a problem.”

      “Then what is the problem?” she demanded.

      “I hate hospitals.”

      “There’s a news flash.”

      “This isn’t getting us anywhere.” The doctor rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Look, Mr. Reynolds, what if you let us clean you up, then you spend the night here? We’d like to keep you twenty-four hours for observation, but we’ll take what we can get. Tomorrow we’ll send you on your way with a home health-care professional.”

      “A nurse?” he asked, looking at her.

      “Definitely.” The doctor nodded. “You’ll need to have an IV, dressings changed, close observation in case of concussion. We don’t want you passing out all by your lonesome. You’re going to need general care because of the soreness. It’s going to be hard to get around.”

      Simon was quiet for several moments. Megan could see he was thinking it over. Still, she wasn’t prepared for his answer.

      “Can I have Megan?”

      Chapter Two

      Simon figured if he hadn’t already had his head examined, he would need to give it serious consideration in the near future. His thinking was crystal clear in spite of the goose egg.