It was an old argument.
Her father flicked on the scope’s light, held the tongue blade ready. “Open wide.”
Jesse did as her father asked.
It only took her father a glance.
He removed the tongue blade and flicked off the scope. “Your throat looks like shit. I won’t bother with a throat culture. You’ve got strep.”
Jesse looked up at Ellie, a lopsided grin on his face that made Ellie’s pulse skitter. “Kid germs, huh?”
She nodded. “The worst.”
*
Strep throat.
So much for your monster immune system, buddy.
“Ellie said something about this damaging the heart.”
“If it goes untreated for a long time, you can get rheumatic fever. Trust me—you don’t want that.”
Hell, no, he didn’t—whatever that was.
The doc packed his things away in his bag. “Are you allergic to any drugs?”
Jesse shook his head. “No, sir.”
“Well, then, you’ve got a couple of options. I can write you a prescription for ten days’ worth of antibiotics that you can take to the pharmacy tomorrow morning when it opens, or I can give you an injection of penicillin now. Either way, you’ll start to feel better about twenty-four hours after your first dose.”
Jesse thought he understood what the doc was saying. “So, it’s either a shot now and done, or start pills tomorrow?”
The doc nodded. “That’s right.”
Jesse would rather be well sooner than later. “I’ll take that shot.”
The doc watched him through heavily lidded eyes that were green like his daughter’s. “Just so you know, the injection is given in a large muscle. Generally speaking, that means your glute.”
Did the doc think getting a shot in the ass was a deal breaker?
Jesse found himself grinning. “In the army, they give you vaccines for diseases that haven’t been invented yet. I’ve gotten more shots in my behind than I can remember.”
“Okay then.” The doc reached into his bag, took out a small vial of medication, along with a syringe and a needle, both of which were encased in packaging. “What’s your weight?”
“I’m two-twenty.” Jesse got to his feet, turned his back to Ellie and her father, and started to unzip his jeans.
A cough. “I’ll … uh … step into the kitchen, give you some privacy.”
Jesse glanced over his shoulder, saw pink in Ellie’s cheeks. He hadn’t thought this would embarrass her. She was a nurse, after all. She probably saw bare butts every day—and more. Why should seeing his ass make her blush?
The answer shot through the fevered haze in his brain.
She’s attracted to you.
Nah. He was probably out of his mind. Fever. Germs.
He would have offered to move this show to his bedroom, but she was already walking away, her back turned toward him. He unzipped his jeans and pushed them just low enough in back to bare the muscle the doctor needed.
The doc rubbed a cold alcohol wipe over the skin high on his right buttock. “Now you’ll feel a stick and some pressure as the penicillin goes in.”
Son of a …!
It hurt more than Jesse had expected.
“Done.”
Jesse tugged up his jeans, zipped his fly. “Thanks.”
“We’ll need to hang around for about fifteen minutes to make sure you don’t have an allergic reaction.” The doc dropped the syringe into a small biohazard container. “Let me know if you start itching or feeling short of breath.”
Jesse glanced around the room, wondering where he’d left his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”
“Owe me?” The doc frowned. “Not a red cent. You helped my daughter, and I’m returning that kindness. We take care of our own in Scarlet.”
Uneasiness and warmth warred with each other for space behind Jesse’s sternum. He wasn’t used to needing help. At the same time, he’d lived as an outsider in this town for most of three years now. It was nice to hear that someone felt he belonged. “Thanks.”
Dizziness forced him to sit, his head throbbing, his body aching with fever. He wished he could lie down again, but his mama had beat good manners into him with a wooden spoon. Besides, it was probably time to stoke the fire. While he was at it, he should carry in more firewood, too.
Ellie turned to face him, still in her self-imposed exile in the kitchen. “Can I make you a cup of tea with honey? It will help your throat.”
He felt embarrassed and gratified at the same time. When was the last time a woman had done something like that for him? “There’s no need to go to any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble.” She set about making him a cup of tea, opening cupboards till she found what she wanted and putting a mug of water into his microwave.
“While I’m here, I might as well stoke that fire.” The doc got up, walked to the wood stove, and opened the cast iron door. “You could use some firewood, too.”