Page 17 of Protecting What's Mine

“In the dog world, there isn’t much difference.”

At his voice, Sunshine remembered her unconditional love for him and galloped back to his side.

“Where can I wash my hands? I’ll get you bandaged up, and you can return to your day of ignoring doctor’s orders,” Dreamy said, rising and brushing the dog hair off her pants.

He pointed to the doorway between the bar and the TV.

“This is definitely a bachelor pad,” she said, when she returned, wiping her hands on a paper towel.

“A lot of this was my grandfather’s,” he explained, sweeping an arm toward the shelves that displayed a collection of 1950s gas station memorabilia and firefighter related knickknacks. “He owned it when it was a gas station and garage.”

Dreamy dug through her bag and produced gauze and tape.

“Interesting,” she decided. Though he noticed her questioning look at the kegerator in the corner. His place was unapologetically him. His grandfather owned and operated the service center into the seventies. Linc bought it several years ago and started the eclectic renovation, paying homage to the building’s past and his own love of fire-fighting history.

“Where can we do this?” she asked, then held up a hand when he opened his mouth. “I’ll save us both from you suggesting the bedroom. Here is fine.”

She chose the sofa. A long, low leather piece that usually held buddies for the game or whoever called next game on the table. Not one to be left out, Sunshine hopped up on the end of the couch.

They sat facing each other, and Dreamy took his bandaged hand in hers.

He’d leaned on her heavily last night to and from the car. But this timeshewas touchinghim. He liked her touch. Cool, competent. Strong, but there was a gentleness there, too.

The burn on the back of his hand was angry, red and blistered. But he’d had worse. Would have worse again.

Gently, she applied a light layer of burn cream and laid a clean piece of gauze on top.

He was sitting on his couch holding hands with a woman whose name he didn’t know…yet.

Say what you would about Lincoln Reed, but the man always had a name to go with the face accompanying him home. But not this time. She’d turned down his first invitation into his home, then turned up on his doorstep with first aid supplies and window treatment skills.

“Try to keep the wound clean and moist. Rest the shoulder. Your body can only take so much,” she said, wrapping another layer of sticky tape around his hand

“Are you doubting my stamina, Dreamy?”

Sunshine wriggled down the couch to stick her head in the doctor’s lap.

“I’m doubting your sanity, Hotshot.” She pressed the tape flat against his hand, sealing it to his skin. “And now I’m doubting mine for coming here.” But she gave Sunshine another pet, more confident now. And when his dog’s tail thumped happily, Dreamy’s grin was joyful. “You’re a very good girl. You take good care of your daddy and don’t let him do anything stupid.”

Sunshine squished herself against the doctor, trying to get as close as possible to the nice lady.

“What’s the rush? You could hang out here and make sure I follow doctor’s orders,” he offered.

“I’m going to work.”

“Back on the bird?” Linc pressed. She was an enigma to be decoded.

She shook her head. “That’s just for fun. Keeps me sharp. The real work starts today.”

“Emergency department? Burn unit?” he teased, holding up his expertly bandaged hand.

“Worse.” She winced. “Family practice.”

He laughed. They were a match made in heaven, and she really had no idea.

“Did I miss something hilarious?”

He liked that she didn’t seem to mind being laughed at. Didn’t take herself too seriously.