“Go.” I ushered Jackie towards the door once more before she gave up another small laugh.
“I can’t wait to hear more about this date, Cammie.”
I didn’t even acknowledge her, other than switching our patient files. I’m sure she’ll understand completely once she’s done stitching him up. He’ll probably offer to do it himself while she watches; you know, cavemen know how to stitch themselves up…right?
I opened the file as soon as Jackie left the room and started to scan its contents.
“So, do you ditch men often on dates, or…?”
I glanced up from the file, after reading his name: Lucas J. Wells. I walked the few feet over to his bed and placed the file on the counter before reaching for the hand sanitizer. Still reading the file, and not giving him much more of a glance, it said he was 6’2 and one hundred and ninety pounds. My left eyebrow quipped upward at his vitals that had already been done. They were near perfect. Heart rate nice and steady.
I finally got the nerve to look over at him, and I noticeably swallowed when I saw that he was staring directly at me. I couldn’t even help my eyes as they scanned his entirety. He was what you’d call a nice, tall glass of water. Actually, I almost felt as if I needed some water to moisten my now drying mouth. Jesus…take me now. I knew his body was near perfect with his 6’2 height and perfectly proportioned weight, but what I wasn’t expecting was for everything else to be immaculate, too. Dirty blond hair, parted off to the side and tousled right on top. His eyes were a pale green, almost taking my breath away with their sharp contrast to his long, dark eyelashes. His straight, narrow nose led down to his slim but plump lips, which laid unmoving on his wide, Russian-like face. He had a narrow, slanted white scar in between his eyebrows, but somehow even that tiny imperfection was perfect.
“So?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. Caught in the act, my eyes widened fast. I quickly averted my eyes back down to his file.
I honestly needed a second to catch my breath, because he had literally stolen it from me. Little thief! I’ve been told that I was picky when it came to men, and maybe I was. I just knew what I wanted, and what I liked. And this man, his looks were definitely something I liked.
Or thought I liked, until… my stomach dropped to the floor like a fucking bowling ball. Occupation: United States Marine Corps.
Goddamnit!
Three
Dun. Dun. Dun. It always happened like this. I was meant to be alone forever. I was going to die alone. I really was. I would not, under any circumstance, date a Marine. Or any service member; it wasn’t just limited to the Marines. I wouldn’t do it, and the fact that I was just going all gaga over this guy because of his looks made me so mad. I should have known that there would be a catch. There always was.
I let out an exasperated breath and grabbed what I needed to check his pupils to see if he truly did have a concussion. My mind wandered to how he had actually received this supposed concussion. Over the years, I’ve watched Marines bounce in and out of the ER due to a variety of drunken incidents, my brother and his friends being most of those patients…many, many times. I wanted to ask, but I held my tongue because I could be having to deal with Big Foot down in room number three. Technically, this guy was a life-saver.
“Here, let me check out your eyes. You said you think you have a concussion?” I asked, without looking him directly in the face.
His voice came out smooth, like a lullaby. “No. I’m positive I don’t have a concussion, but if I didn’t come here and get checked, I’d get chewed out by my commanding officer, and I don’t really have the patience to deal with that.”
“And, how did this happen? Were you drunk?” I just couldn’t help but add that last part in. I just couldn’t help it. Was it superfluous of me? Yes. Did I care? Nope.
He grunted and it caused me to look back at his face. He looked angry, and his voice was sharp, unlike before when he was kidding around with Jackie about my ridiculous life.
“No.”
I waited a few more beats before raising my eyebrows, indicating that I still wanted to know how he got this “non-concussion.”
He grumbled, “I was moving things into my new house and my friend hit the ladder I was s
tanding on, and I fell down, hitting my head. I’m fine.”
I snickered. “Let me check.”
“Is this funny to you?”
“Nope. Let me take a look.” I couldn’t deny the scowl on his face. I have clearly made him mad. He really shouldn’t be surprised that I asked if he’d been drinking, though. He’s a Marine, for goodness’ sake; they’re rowdy by nature!
I grabbed my small flashlight and beamed it directly into his eyes, trying to check for his pupil dilation. Instead of actually paying attention to what any sane RN would be looking for, though, I took in the hue of his pale green eyes. I had never seen such a color in my life. The green was so light that his eyes almost looked transparent, but they weren’t. They were just so light, and in contrast to his dark eyelashes, they stood out even more.
He cleared his throat and I almost dropped the flashlight. Almost. But I didn’t, steady hands and all.
I finally brought down the beam of bright light and pressed my warm hands around his head, checking for any unusual bumps or bruises. The feel of his silky hair between my fingers only pissed me off more. If only, if only he wasn’t a Marine.
“You’re good to go. Your pupil dilation is normal. Would you like the doctor to write you a note that you got checked?”
“You never answered my question,” he bantered, swinging his bare lower legs over the side of the bed.