Second Chance With Her Army Doc. Dianne Drake
about your attitude. So how about the stitches?”
“I’d prefer to butterfly it. Less chance of scarring.”
Butterfly stitches were not exactly stitches, but thin strips with an adhesive backing used to close small wounds.
“Oh, and when was the last time you had a tetanus shot?”
“Good on the butterfly stitches. Much better than needle and thread. And as for the tetanus shot...”
She shrugged her shoulders. She should know, but she didn’t. Like most people, she didn’t keep track of those sorts of things. Although she could have told him the exact date and time of the last gamma globulin shot he had taken.
It had happened because of a needle stick. One of his patients—a child—had got belligerent and whacked Carter a good one as he’d been trying to give the boy a shot to calm him down before an appendectomy. Carter had already administered a mild sedative when the boy had started flailing and caught Carter’s hand. The one with the used hypodermic needle still in it.
The puncture hadn’t been bad, or deep, but hospital policy had demanded a visit from the old gamma globulin needle to help give Carter a temporary boost in his immune system. Which had turned out to be a good thing since, as it had happened, the kid had been in the very early stages of chickenpox.
That had been one month and thirteen days before he’d shipped out to Afghanistan. So why did she remember that when she couldn’t remember her own last tetanus?
“No clue,” she told him, recalling the sexy way he’d dropped his pants so she could stick him in the butt with the needle. It had been slow, seductive, and it had definitely raised her libido a notch or two. In fact, had they not been in one of the hospital exam rooms, the way his pants had slid over his hips would have definitely led to something very unprofessional. And very good.
Even thinking about it caused heat to rush to her cheeks—and for a redhead that was a disaster, because it made her look like a beet.
“You OK?” he asked as he pulled the necessary supplies from a cabinet next to the exam table.
“Just tired. Which is why I came here.”
“Well, that color you’re wearing right now isn’t your I’m tired color. Normally that’s more pasty and white. In fact, as I recall, that color is your—”
“Just stop it, Carter! I didn’t come here to rehash old times. I need some stitches and a tetanus shot. If you can’t do that, I’ll go find Matt and ask him to.”
“He didn’t tell you I was here? Because what are the chances that you’d simply bump into me in the middle of nowhere?”
He picked up a bottle of disinfectant and squirted some on her leg.
“When I saw you sitting on my table I assumed you were here to find me.”
“Trust me, Carter. You’re the last person I wanted or expected to find here. And, no, Matt didn’t say a word.”
Which made her wonder if Matt was trying to get them back together. Surprise meeting in a desert in the middle of nowhere? Maybe it was a coincidence. Or maybe not. Right now, she didn’t care. She just wanted Carter to fix her leg so she could get out of there.
* * *
Carter hadn’t expected to see Sloane in Forgeburn, of all places, and now that she was here he wasn’t sure what to do about it. Stay away from her altogether? Allow a small amount of cordiality in? Just what was the etiquette here? What etiquette was involved in meeting up with the woman you’d loved for so long, then dumped?
He knew Sloane in every way one person could know another, so it wasn’t as if they were strangers caught up in a chance meeting. Something like that would have been easier to deal with. They could have shared general chit chat, a string of pleasantries, talked about the weather—except, Sloane deserved more than the weather forecast.
The problem was, he didn’t have more. Not for her, anyway. It was too difficult, too painful, and he didn’t want to go on hurting her over and over.
“The wound is clean and, as cuts go, the edges are good. So I’m going to use about ten butterflies, then wrap it in gauze. If you’re still here in a couple of days come back for a check. Or go to your own doctor when you get back home.”
Which he hoped she would do—go home. Today. Right now.
“I’m here for two weeks,” she said. “It’s the first vacation I’ve had since... Well—that week you were on leave from the Army. You came home and we took a cruise down to Mexico. What was that? Four years ago?”
He knew exactly when it had been, but he didn’t want memories of that week popping into his mind. It had been too nice, and they’d gotten so close. Closer than they’d been even after two years together. It was when he’d proposed to her. Well, it had been a pre-proposal—one of those If I were to ask you, would you marry me? sort of things.
It hadn’t been until almost two years later that he’d done the real asking. And then it had been by satellite hook-up. It had been her birthday, and her friends and family had been having a party. He’d been left out, of course, being overseas. So when they’d talked later that night the question had simply popped right out of him, surprising him almost as much as it had her.
Marriage had always been his intention, though. Women like Sloane didn’t come along every day, and he had been so head-over-heels crazy in love with her, almost at first sight, he hadn’t been about to lose her. But he’d wanted to wait until he got home and do the proposal the right way, on a romantic weekend on the beach, or maybe up in wine country.
Somehow he’d seen it happening at dawn, not dusk. They’d be strolling hand in hand, wherever they were, and when they stopped for a break he would pull an engagement ring box from his pocket. Or they would be having brunch, sipping mimosas, and he would discreetly slide the ring box across the table.
That had been the other Carter Holmes, though. The one who’d replaced him didn’t have a romantic bone in his body. Even reminding himself of the things he’d thought before made his hands shake.
“I’m going to give you a prescription for an antibiotic. There’s a pharmacy about ten miles down the road. You can fill it there. If I remember correctly, you were allergic to—”
Damn, why did he have to remember so many things about her? He’d been trying not to since he’d left, and on good days he sometimes succeeded. Now, though, everything was coming back. More than he wanted. More than he could deal with.
“Penicillin,” Sloane said, sliding off the exam table then bending down to straighten out her pants. “So, how much do I owe you for today?” she asked as she straightened up and looked him directly in the eye.
“Really, Sloane? Do you think I’d charge you for this?”
“To be honest, I don’t know what you’d do. I didn’t expect you to leave me without an explanation, but you did. I didn’t expect you not to return my calls and texts for three months, but you did. I didn’t even expect you to join the Army, but you did. So, tell me... How am I supposed to anticipate your next move, Carter? How am I supposed to know what you will and will not do?”
“I know I didn’t do things the way I should have, but...”
But what? What was his excuse? He’d been doing it for her? She wouldn’t believe that, even though it was the truth.
“But what’s done is done, and I can’t go back and change things.”
“No, you can’t. Neither of us can.” She headed for the exam room door, then stopped and turned back to face him. “Look, us being here at the same time is a coincidence. But could we find some time when we could get together and talk? I have questions, Carter. And I deserve answers.”
“Let me figure out my schedule, then I’ll get