Wedding at Willow Lake Read Online Free Page B

took his boat without permission.”
    “The fishing hook went in clean. I could have done without the stitches but you salivated over the opportunity to test your skills.”
    “That hook may have gone in clean, but it came out ugly. You tore your arm to shreds trying to remove it because you got impatient. You should have gone to the emergency room.”
    “And then faced my dad’s wrath when he found out? No, thanks.”
    “He found out anyway, when you bled all over the boat seats and failed to clean them up.” She frowned and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “Plus, there was that little issue of an infection that set in.”
    “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Brody rubbed a hand across his forearm. A few days following the accident, poison had attacked his system. “That staph infection was worse than any wrath Dad might have lobbed my way. I still have the scar to prove it.”
    “You fibbed about the tetanus shot, and it came back to bite you too when you had to have a shot for that on top of the antibiotics for the infection. So…” Catherine stood and rounded the room, searching for the kit. “Is the box mounted to a wall, on a shelf in here…or perhaps hidden beneath your desk?”
    “Hiding it would be foolish, and definitely against city regulations.” Brody stood to block her path. “This isn’t necessary. I’ll wash up and be fine. Besides, our sandwiches are getting cold.”
    “The sandwiches can wait.” She gave him a death glare, and then jabbed a finger over his shoulder. “Oh, there it is. Nice planning, Brody. It’s right where I might have imagined.” She winked at him and grinned. “I hope you’ve stocked a needle and some thread, along with a bottle of antiseptic. The kind that leaves a good sting. This is going to be fun.”
    “Hey, aren’t you bound by the Hippocratic oath to relieve pain, not cause it?”
    “Sure. But that doesn’t apply to former boyfriends—I mean, fiancés—who break a girl’s heart.”
     
     
     
     

4
    “Ouch, than smarts.” Brody gritted his teeth as Catherine swiped peroxide across his tender wound. “I’d appreciate it if you’d leave a little skin, please.”
    “I see some sawdust flakes embedded. I’ll need to flush them out.” She glanced up at him. “Hold still. You’re worse than a five-year-old.”
    He cocked an eyebrow, offering a sideway glance. “I think you’re enjoying this.”
    “I enjoy helping people feel better.”
    “Well, I don’t feel better.”
    “Trust me. You will.” She gave the wound another swipe, held tight to his finger as he flinched once again. “But you’re so impatient. I see nothing has changed—in that department, at least.”
    “Maybe you should give my finger a little kiss.” He leaned forward in the chair, grinning though the wound stung like the dickens. “That’ll do the trick.”
    “Very funny.” She paused her swiping to glance up at him. “And, no. I won’t even blow on it. Germs, you know.”
    “Doesn’t hurt a guy to try.” He sighed and clenched his teeth, shifting back in the seat again and resigned to accepting her purely professional care. “Will it need stitches?”
    “I think you dodged a bullet this time. A butterfly bandage ought to do the trick, if you’re careful. But if you tear it back open…”
    “I promise I’ll take it easy for the next few days, doc.” Brody crossed his heart. The scent of her perfume, soft flowers, made it hard to process a single clear thought. Long, silky hair skimmed his thigh as she leaned over him, launching his pulse into overdrive. He cleared his throat, hoping his voice didn’t betray his tangled emotions. “No sawing or hard labor for at least the next twenty-four hours. Scout’s honor.”
    “Make that forty-eight and you’re good to go.” Catherine applied the bandage, smoothed it, and then stepped back, satisfied. “There. I think you’ll live.”
    “Not if I don’t eat something soon.” Brody flexed his