The smile broke through. “Oh, I can’t let you go back to work, not just like that. You’ll need a series of shots first. For rabies.”
“What?” Percy snatched his wounded hand away, cradling it against his chest. “You gone batty or something? I don’t want no needles.”
Melia drew his arm back toward her. “Rats can carry a number of diseases. Rabies is one of them. Unless you killed it and can show me the corpse, I have to assume rabies and give you the proper treatment. Otherwise you run the risk of developing hydrophobia.”
His eyes narrowed in mistrust. “What’d happen if I did develop it?”
“You’d die.”
“From a little bite?”
“Big bite,” Melia countered. She probably shouldn’t have done it, but she couldn’t resist teasing him. That wasn’t the first time he’d had teeth marks on some part of his arm. “Yours seems to have been inflicted by an old rat with a powerful jaw and blunt teeth.”
Percy lowered his gaze to his lap. “Maybe it weren’t a rat at that. Maybe it was old Butch, my dog. He doesn’t have rabies.”
“He might, if he was bitten by a rat. Anyway, Butch doesn’t have enough teeth left to bite anyone, even if he could rouse himself long enough to do it. You need shots, Percy.” Melia raised her brows and continued the teasing tone. “Unless you’d like to change your story.”
A red stain crept up his stubbly neck. “Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you don’t want me to think you weren’t quick enough to avoid your wife’s teeth. Rumor has it this has happened before. Did you bite her first?”
Percy’s head snapped up. “No! She bit me because I wouldn’t give her no-good brother a job.”
“I thought you gave him a job four months ago.”
“I did. I’ve hired and fired him three times. Dumbass blew up an engine last week. Hell, doc, all I asked him to do was change the frigging oil. He tried to tell me the engine blew itself up, but that’s a load of bull and I knew it. And he knew I knew it. Only one who didn’t know it was my wife, and he went bellyaching straight to her with his load of crap. Does that seem right to you? Her taking his side and not mine?”
Melia sighed. “Don’t ask me, Percy. I’m no expert on marriage. I’ll assume Angie doesn’t have rabies.”
“She’s got venom, and plenty of it.” He jerked a shoulder. “But no rabies.” He stabbed the index finger of his injured hand at her. “This stays between you and me, right? Sheriff Travers is Angie’s cousin. He gives me enough grief as it is.”
“He gives you grief, you fix his truck.” Melia finished cleaning the wound. “Sounds like a workable trade-off to me. But no, I won’t say anything. Doctor-patient privilege. What happens in this office stays in this office. At least, it does for me.”
“I hope you mean that.” Melia felt Percy’s stare grow speculative as she worked. At length, he cleared his throat. “So. You, uh, got a thing going with the sheriff?”
“What? No. I mean, we’ve gone out a few times. I like him. He’s definitely a better cook than I am. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering. You know folks like to talk. How’s about that developer guy from Jacksonville?”
“Nope.”
“The farmer who used to be a fireman down Miami way? He did a calendar. Angie says he’s hot as sizzling spit. Course, Angie also thinks her dumbass brother looks just like Matt Damon. He likes you, by the way.”
“Who, Matt Damon?”
“No, Angie’s dumbass brother. Keep up, doc. You about done patching me up?”
“Getting close. Bite’s not as deep as you probably think. Use a glove while you’re doing stuff for the next week or so to keep the bandage clean.” She knew he wouldn’t, but she had to make the suggestion.
“You ever been married?” Percy asked out of the blue. Then he jerked back. “Ow.”
“Sorry.” She breathed through a rush of guilt and pain. “I was married once,” she said. “It didn’t last.”
“What happened?”
When cornered, lie. She smiled. “Nothing earth shattering. We had very different careers. Things got in the way of our long-term happiness.”
“Sounds like big city bullshit to me.”
“We lived in L.A.”
“Figures.” He considered for a moment. “Hollywood’s in L.A. Did you ever meet Matt Damon?”
She grinned. “Saw him. Twice. Your brother-in-law doesn’t look a thing like him.” Pushing away, she rummaged in a drawer. “Here’s a glove you can use when you’re not working. It’s washable. Come back in two days, and I’ll change the dressing. Don’t get your hand wet, and don’t pull any wrenches for at least that long. We’ll see what’s what after that.” She poked his arm before he could argue. “Sheriff Travers has more than one vehicle. He can make do. I’ll give you something for the pain and something else to stop any infection.”
He stood. “Pills, or those things you shove up your butt?”
After writing out the prescriptions and handing them to him, she opened the door to the examining room. “Live dangerously, Percy. Find out when you get these filled. And keep a positive thought. Maybe some of the construction workers rolling into town will need work done on their vehicles.”
“Maybe.” Percy let his gaze slide to the far side of the waiting room. Melia followed it and spotted a man in the corner. He had his back to her, but she knew him well enough that her stomach muscles immediately knotted. Johnny, was her first thought, followed by a vision of blood and, God help her, possibly worse.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Turning, the man offered her a slow smile. “Hey there, Dr. Rose. Not what you’re probably thinking, so you can relax. What’s it been? Fourteen, fifteen months?”
Not what she was probably thinking. Well, of all people, McCabe would know. But whatever his reason for being there, he was a wrinkle she really didn’t need in her already twisted life.
Like a dog with a bone, Percy nudged her arm. “You two related?”
“Not really,” she replied. “Tony here is my cousin’s ex-husband’s former brother-in-law.”
“Huh?”
“He’s a survivalist from Colorado. Go to the drugstore, Percy. Pick up your painkillers and apologize to Angie. Watch a movie together tonight. Matt Damon, if you can find one you agree on.”
Neither she nor McCabe said anything until the door closed behind her curious patient. McCabe was a smart man, not to mention a handsome one. He had enough of a beard to disguise his face, and what the beard didn’t cover, the brim of his black hat did. He also wore a faded plaid shirt over denim, and work boots covered with at least ten layers of mud.
“Looking good, McCabe.” She locked the street door and turned the sign. “What brings you here? I’m not planning to relocate.”
“I’m not planning to relocate you.” He started toward her. “You’re looking good, too, Mel. Better than the last time we met.”
She stared him down. “What do you want?”
“To talk.” He held up his hands. “Only that. You came to me after Atlantic City when you found you couldn’t settle, and I helped you carve out a new life. Connections.” He grinned. “They come in handy.”
“They do,” she agreed. “And I appreciate you pulling strings so I could try different places, searching for the right fit.”
“Is this it?” he asked.
“Possibly. Inasmuch as anywhere ever will be.” She wouldn’t ask, she promised herself. McCabe might be Johnny’s boss, but they were also friends, and had been for several years. McCabe would have information, but…no. Better to stay on neutral ground. “I’ve been seeing a man, sort of. I have a house. And a housekeeper. Her name’s Gertrude. She swears she’s possessed by the spirit of Bette Davis.”
“Bette Davis wanted to come back over and clean houses for a living?” McCabe grinned. “You sure you don’t want to relocate? There are some great small towns in Kentucky.”
“I like the Everglades. The life cycles are fascinating.”
“And it doesn’t hurt that you were born in the area. You have a cousin here, don’t you?”
“Nearby. Joseph’s an illustrator. An artist, really, but bills have to be paid.”
“Sociable?”
“Not especially. Why are you here, McCabe?”