Shit. He wasn’t letting this go.
“I-I …” My stammering made his eyebrow lift before I finally came up with something. “You were the closest,” I blurted. Yeah, that sounded good. And was true, actually.
“I was the closest,” he repeated, and the doubt in his voice made me double down on my fib.
“I knew you’d be able to come right away because you were in your weekly with Rafferty from Legal.”
“So?”
“So that meeting never goes past an hour.”
“That’s because an hour is all I can stand with him.”
“I know.”
“So you’re saying that’s the only reason you called me?”
His persistence made me wonder what he wanted me to say. “Why else?” I asked. “It’s not like you’re my in-case-of-emergency person.”
“Who is?”
“Who is what?”
“Your in-case-of-emergency person.”
“My parents, of course,” I said. Then curiosity made me add, “Who’s yours?”
“You. Of course.”
And that was the second time I’d been struck dumb by Parker in the span of mere minutes. Before I could think what to say, the doctor walked in.
“So I hear you’ve had quite a lucky day,” he said to me, pulling up the little rolling stool to sit on and the tray with all the needles. He snapped on latex gloves and I gulped.
“Yeah, you could say that. So, um, how many shots do you think you’ll need to do to numb it?” Those shots always felt as though they took an excruciatingly long time.
“Probably three or four,” he said, looking at the slice in my arm.
I winced, my nails digging into the thin foam cushion of the chair I was sitting on. The doctor picked up the needle and I took a deep breath.
Parker was at my side, prying my hand from the chair and folding my palm inside his. I looked up at him rather than the needle, flinching as the medicine went into the wound. Gripping Parker’s hand harder than I probably should have, I focused on his eyes, the clear purity of the blue that was a deeper shade than Ryker’s.
He crouched down next to me. “So I found out Deirdre is dating someone,” he said.
That got my attention. Deirdre was Parker’s cleaning lady and cook who came by his apartment daily. Her cooking was phenomenal, and I knew this because I’d snuck a couple of bites a few times at Parker’s place when he wasn’t yet home from work and I’d been dropping off his dry cleaning or files he needed. I’d met her a few times, too.
An older lady in her mid-sixties, she had boundless energy that I’d kill for, and with her eight grandkids, she needed it. Her husband had passed away nearly a dozen years ago and she’d seemed perfectly content to fill her days with her kids, grandkids, and taking care of Parker’s apartment. To hear she was dating someone was juicy gossip indeed.
“How do you know?” I asked him, wanting all the details.
“She wanted to know if she could make something ahead of time for Saturday night and if I’d put it in the oven. She said she had plans Saturday or she’d come by and do it. When I asked her what plans, she blushed and said she had a ‘man friend’ who was taking her out.”
I laughed at the “man friend” descriptor—it sounded very Deirdre-ish—and shook my head.
“Well, how about that,” I said. “Good for her. Did she say who he was?”
“No, but I have it on good authority that he’s my butcher.”
“Marco?”
Parker nodded.
“How do you know?”
“He told me.”
“I bet they see each other all the time,” I guessed. “She’s always getting stuff there for you.” Hmm. The Italian butcher and the cleaning grandma … it sounded like a Lifetime movie.
“Kinda what I thought,” he said. “Think he’ll give me a discount if things go well?”
“Doubtful.”
Parker sighed in mock disappointment. “Yeah. I didn’t think so either.”
There was a tugging sensation on my skin and I realized the doctor had finished all the shots to numb the area and was now doing the stitches. I hadn’t even felt it. I glanced over at him, but Parker caught my chin lightly with his fingers.
“Don’t watch,” he said. “Look at me instead.”
Okay. Twist my arm.
He had on a deep navy pinstripe suit today with a crisp, white French-cuffed shirt. Silver cufflinks I’d gotten him for Christmas last year winked in the harsh fluorescent light. His tie was a gorgeous navy and silver diamond pattern with tiny paisleys in the center of each diamond. A busier tie than he usually wore, which meant he’d been in an exceptionally good mood this morning. Perhaps breaking up with Monique suited him just fine.
“All done,” the doctor said, taking off his gloves with a snap. “The nurse will give you something for the discomfort and an antibiotic to prevent infection. The stitches will dissolve in seven to ten days. You’ll have a thin scar, of course.”