Her Maverick M.d.

He glanced at Dawn who was standing by. For just a moment her mouth curved into a smile, but when she noticed him looking it disappeared, and she wouldn’t glance his way again. What had put that guarded look in her eyes and, more important, how could he get her to drop it? If anything, she grew more reserved every day. She hardly spoke to him unless it was about work and walked out of any room he entered if she didn’t need to be there for a patient.

“Okay,” Tucker said.

Distracted, Jon met the boy’s gaze. “Hmm?”

“You can look, but you have to put your hands behind your back first.” His dirty, freckled face was streaked with tears and his shaggy brown hair in need of a trim fell into his eyes.

Jon held up his hands, then clasped them behind his back. “Just looking.”

“How did you get that nasty gash?” Dawn moved beside the exam table where the boy had his legs stretched out in front of him.

Jon knew that it was strictly professional because of the way she deliberately didn’t look at him. She was distracting the boy, using her pediatric nursing skill.

“Me and my friends were playing by the creek.” He shrugged. “I fell on a sharp rock.”

“Looks like it hurt.”

The laceration was about five centimeters long and deep, down to the fat, but fortunately he couldn’t see bone. Sutures were definitely necessary.

Jon straightened and folded his arms over his chest. “Okay, kid, I’m going to give it to you straight. This needs stitches.”

“No way.” Tucker folded his arms over his chest, too, as stubbornness settled on his young face.

“Well, you could choose to do nothing, but your knee will keep bleeding.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do.” Molly Hendrickson had the same freckles and brown hair as her son.

Jon met the boy’s mistrustful gaze. “I could leave it alone if that’s what you want, but before deciding there are some things you should take into consideration.”

“Like what?”

“It’s deep and will take a long time to heal. And it’s in a bad spot because you bend it and all that movement keeps the wound from closing up. On top of that, until it closes you can’t get dirt in it or you risk an infection.”

Doubt cut through the kid’s stubborn expression. “Would that hurt?”

“Yeah it would.” Jon shrugged. “Bottom line is you’ll spend what’s left of your summer in the house with your leg propped up.”

“Mom—”

“He’s the doctor, Tuck.” Molly looked sympathetic but resigned.

“How bad will stitches hurt?”

“A little. But probably not as much as when you fell.” In his experience treating children, it helped not to talk down to them. Jon believed in telling the patient exactly what was going to happen. “I’ll swab some medicine around the cut so when I give you the shot to numb the area it won’t hurt as bad. I promise you won’t feel any pain when I close up that laceration.”

“You’ll still have to keep it clean,” Dawn said. “But it won’t take as long to heal and you’ll have a little summer left to get as dirty as you want.”

“He probably appreciates permission to be grubby, but trust me, he doesn’t need it.” Molly tenderly brushed the hair off his forehead. “It is what it is. A little summer left is better than nothing. Man up, buddy.”

“Okay.” He glared. “But I’m not going to look.”

“Me, either,” Jon said.

“You have to.” Tucker saw his grin and looked sheepish. “Oh. You’re messing with me.”

“I am.” Jon saw Dawn smile, then shut it down when she glanced at him.

Jon tamped down his irritation. The way she always did that was really starting to bug him. But he couldn’t deal with it now. Soon, though.

“I’ll go get a suture kit.” She left the room.

He washed his hands at the exam room sink and in a few minutes when Dawn returned he was ready.

“Okay, Tuck, here we go. When you’re all patched up you can get your mom to take you for ice cream.”

“But it’s almost dinnertime.”

“I bet she’ll make an exception this one time,” Dawn said.

“That can be arranged.” Molly put her arm across her son’s shoulders. “Be brave, kiddo.”

“What if I cry?”

Jon took the syringe of lidocaine and prepared to inject it. “From my perspective, as long as you hold still, you can cry, scream and swear.”

“I can say bad words?” Apparently using bad language without punishment was more exciting than ice cream.

His mom was squirming now. “Do you even know any curse words?”

“I’ve heard dad say some stuff—”

“Here we go. A little pinch,” Jon said. He gently pricked the skin with the needle. “How you doing, Tuck?” Jon quickly glanced up.

“Okay. It hurt at first. But now it just feels like you’re pushing on my leg.”

“Good. That’s what should happen. It’s going to take a little time for the medicine to work, but that was the worst of it. Now we’re going to clean out the cut so it doesn’t get infected. Then I’ll do the stitches and put a big Band-Aid on it so the girls will be impressed.”

The kid made a face and looked as if he was in real pain. “I don’t like girls.”

“You don’t have to.” Give it a couple years, Jon thought. Then you might get to work with a girl who hated your guts and you had no clue why. When they were finished here he was going to find out what was going on with her.

Jon finished quickly then bandaged the knee. “You’ll need to change the dressing every day. Bring him back in a week and I’ll check to see if the stitches are ready to come out.”

“Does it hurt when you take out stitches?” Tucker wanted to know.

“Nah. And you know I would tell you if it did.”