Falling For Ken (Blueprint to Love Book 2) Read Online Free
Author: Lauren Giordano
white coat flapping behind him. "What have we here?" He scanned the chart briefly. "Once your x-rays come back, we can probably release you . . . but you're not to move out of bed the next three to four days."
"Are you sure it's safe? He suffered a serious fall." Kendall ignored smoldering glares from the invalid.
"He's got a goose egg on his head." He reviewed the chart. "Possible slight concussion. His spine is in remarkable shape, all things considered. Other than a couple broken bones and a few stitches-" He nodded to Harrison. "You were lucky today."
"Yes, sir."
The doctor swiveled his attention back to her. "If his headache doesn't improve noticeably in three days, or if it worsens- get him back here. For his broken bones– call this orthopedist next week." He handed her a card. "Crutches will be awkward with only one working arm, so use the cane instead. Keep his casts dry."
He tugged a pad from his pocket and scribbled a prescription. "One pill every four hours for the next three days, then only as necessary for pain." He glanced from Harrison to her. "I don't want him out of bed for forty-eight hours. Then– only up for brief periods for two more days. That'll give him a jump on healing. Any questions?"
Probably several hundred, if Ken were allowed a moment to think. "W-what about- Do I need a visiting nurse-"
The doctor smiled over her worried expression. "He looks bad, but he's in decent shape. You should be able to take care of him."
"But-" Traynor's hand tightened in warning.
"I'll feel much better at home. My wife will take great care of me."
The doctor swung his gaze back to her. "You'll keep him quiet, young lady?"
Forcing a smile, she answered Harry's vice-like warning with one of her own. Oh, she'd take care of him, alright. "I'm sure I'll have no trouble at all."
Chapter 2
Harry hurt everywhere. After three excruciating hours, his x-rays were finally read and all the damned paperwork signed so he could finally be discharged. Three hours for Kendall to locate some guy named Jimmy on his barstool at the Hickory Pub and confirm her truck had been delivered to the hospital. Three hours for the pain to worsen. Whatever shock he'd been in after the fall had long since worn off.
There wasn't a damned spot on his body that wasn't battered, broken or bruised. But he couldn't risk a pain pill yet. If he did, Ken would likely abandon him. She'd confess to the doctor she barely knew him. In his drooling state, he wouldn't be able to argue. They'd wheel him into a noisy, sterile room and he'd be trapped for the weekend– or longer.
But damned if he didn't want a pill. Or five. Jesus, he felt like hell. He eyed the pharmacy bottles in Kendall's hand. If he could just get to the truck . . . He'd allow himself one . To take the edge off. Despite the mother-huge headache assaulting his brain, he ran through the list of tasks to be accomplished before he could collapse into bed.
He had to get home. He had to get into his home. Christ– he had to find his briefcase containing the keys to his home. Harry bit back a groan. His mind wandered over the logistics. Did he have any food? The way he felt, he wouldn't be leaving the damn condo for several days. Of course, the way he felt, he probably wouldn't be eating anytime soon, either. Could he even make it up the stairs to his bed?
"You okay?" Ken's croaky voice interrupted his disjointed thoughts.
Glancing down at the cast on his ankle, Harry regretted it as a wave of dizziness threatened to topple him on his ass. Praying he wouldn't throw up all over her, he blinked owlishly and sucked in a few cleansing gulps of cool night air. Through clenched teeth, he answered. "I'm fine."
"You look like hell."
Kendall had the bedside manner of a truck stop waitress. She would be the one snarling at you to hurry up and order– while she sloshed coffee down your pants. Harry had trouble imagining what it would be like to endure her presence for an extended
"Are you sure it's safe? He suffered a serious fall." Kendall ignored smoldering glares from the invalid.
"He's got a goose egg on his head." He reviewed the chart. "Possible slight concussion. His spine is in remarkable shape, all things considered. Other than a couple broken bones and a few stitches-" He nodded to Harrison. "You were lucky today."
"Yes, sir."
The doctor swiveled his attention back to her. "If his headache doesn't improve noticeably in three days, or if it worsens- get him back here. For his broken bones– call this orthopedist next week." He handed her a card. "Crutches will be awkward with only one working arm, so use the cane instead. Keep his casts dry."
He tugged a pad from his pocket and scribbled a prescription. "One pill every four hours for the next three days, then only as necessary for pain." He glanced from Harrison to her. "I don't want him out of bed for forty-eight hours. Then– only up for brief periods for two more days. That'll give him a jump on healing. Any questions?"
Probably several hundred, if Ken were allowed a moment to think. "W-what about- Do I need a visiting nurse-"
The doctor smiled over her worried expression. "He looks bad, but he's in decent shape. You should be able to take care of him."
"But-" Traynor's hand tightened in warning.
"I'll feel much better at home. My wife will take great care of me."
The doctor swung his gaze back to her. "You'll keep him quiet, young lady?"
Forcing a smile, she answered Harry's vice-like warning with one of her own. Oh, she'd take care of him, alright. "I'm sure I'll have no trouble at all."
Chapter 2
Harry hurt everywhere. After three excruciating hours, his x-rays were finally read and all the damned paperwork signed so he could finally be discharged. Three hours for Kendall to locate some guy named Jimmy on his barstool at the Hickory Pub and confirm her truck had been delivered to the hospital. Three hours for the pain to worsen. Whatever shock he'd been in after the fall had long since worn off.
There wasn't a damned spot on his body that wasn't battered, broken or bruised. But he couldn't risk a pain pill yet. If he did, Ken would likely abandon him. She'd confess to the doctor she barely knew him. In his drooling state, he wouldn't be able to argue. They'd wheel him into a noisy, sterile room and he'd be trapped for the weekend– or longer.
But damned if he didn't want a pill. Or five. Jesus, he felt like hell. He eyed the pharmacy bottles in Kendall's hand. If he could just get to the truck . . . He'd allow himself one . To take the edge off. Despite the mother-huge headache assaulting his brain, he ran through the list of tasks to be accomplished before he could collapse into bed.
He had to get home. He had to get into his home. Christ– he had to find his briefcase containing the keys to his home. Harry bit back a groan. His mind wandered over the logistics. Did he have any food? The way he felt, he wouldn't be leaving the damn condo for several days. Of course, the way he felt, he probably wouldn't be eating anytime soon, either. Could he even make it up the stairs to his bed?
"You okay?" Ken's croaky voice interrupted his disjointed thoughts.
Glancing down at the cast on his ankle, Harry regretted it as a wave of dizziness threatened to topple him on his ass. Praying he wouldn't throw up all over her, he blinked owlishly and sucked in a few cleansing gulps of cool night air. Through clenched teeth, he answered. "I'm fine."
"You look like hell."
Kendall had the bedside manner of a truck stop waitress. She would be the one snarling at you to hurry up and order– while she sloshed coffee down your pants. Harry had trouble imagining what it would be like to endure her presence for an extended
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