His Private Nurse Read Online Free Page B

home.”
    Royce cut his gaze sideways. “Succinctly put.”
    Dale sighed and hunched forward, hanging his sharp chin on the edge of the chair back. “So that leaves us right where we’ve always been. Square one.”
    â€œNot exactly,” Royce said, disciplining a yawn. Blinking, he fought off the drug-induced lethargy. “I want you to find a therapist for Tammy. She has to have been traumatized by all this.”
    Dale fixed him with that no-nonsense, lawyer glare of his. “Royce, did Tammy see her mother push you? Is that what this is all about?”
    â€œNo. And even if she had, I wouldn’t let anyone badger her about it. She needs to talk to someone she can trust, someone neutral. I mean it, Dale, someone neutral. This isn’t part of the case. This isn’t discovery. This is my daughter. She needs help.”
    Dale straightened and nodded. “Right. Sorry. I’ll get on it as soon as I leave here. You know, though, that Pamela’s going to fight us on it.”
    Royce nodded wearily. “I’m going to ask my doctor and the kid’s pediatrician to recommend it.”
    â€œThat’ll help,” Dale said doubtfully.
    The door swung open then, and Nurse Gage walked through bearing a green plastic tray. “Dinner.”
    Despite his fatigue, Royce’s stomach rumbled and he smiled. “I think I’m hungry enough even for hospital food.”
    â€œI didn’t know anyone got that hungry,” Dale quipped as the nurse slid the tray onto the bed table.
    Apparently unamused, she pointed a finger at Dale and said bluntly, “You have been here long enough. He needs to eat, take his medicine and rest.”
    Dale’s thin brows arched. With an amused glance at Royce he stood and threw his shoulders back, emphasizing his height. Executing a smart salute, he winked at the diminutive Nurse Gage. “Aye, aye, sarge.”
    She barely spared him a glance as she elbowed him aside, lowered the bedside rail and rolled the table into place, positioning it over Royce’s lap. Royce chuckled. “Thanks for coming by, Dale.”
    Defeated, Dale started toward the door, saying cheerily, “I’ll be back this evening.”
    â€œSee you then.”
    Nurse Gage bent to depress the button that lifted the head of the bed. When his body was adequately contorted, semi-sitting with leg suspended and right arm propped on a stack of pillows, she shook out a thin paper napkin and tucked it into the too-high neck of his hated hospital gown. “Now, then,” she said briskly, “let’s get you fed.”
    She lifted the domed cover off his plate, revealing grayish meat and limp, overdone vegetables. Taking knife and fork in hand, she began cutting up the meat. He wondered, with some amusement, right up to the moment she placed the fork in his left hand, if she was actually going to feed him.
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    Ping, ping, ping, ping.
    Glancing at the alarm board, Merrily shrugged into the roomy lab coat she preferred to wear over her simple scrubs. Room 18, Royce Lawler. Lydia Joiner, the charge nurse, groaned.
    â€œNot again.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Merrily asked, checking her voluminous pockets.
    â€œEighteen’s on a rampage,” Lydia said, rising from the desk. “Found out he’s got to have surgery again on that leg, and he’s taking it out on the whole nursing staff.”
    â€œI’ll go,” Merrily said, aware that she didn’t have to, since she was early for her shift.
    Lydia inclined her head appreciatively. “Thanks, kid.”
    Kid. Always the kid. Lydia was no more than three years her senior, but due to her appearance, Merrily was “the kid.” Sighing with resignation, Merrily moved toward Royce’s room. The alarm board ping-ping-pinged again as she pushed through the heavy door.
    â€œThank God!” Royce Lawler exclaimed, tossing the bell remote into his lap.