His Healing Touch
Maggie Pruitt can take care of herself, thank you very much. She doesn’t need the drool-worthy ER doctor carrying her away from her problems. Although, she is pretty impressed that he’s strong enough to carry her size fourteen muffin-topped butt away if he wanted to.
Only Maggie doesn’t want him to. She’s worked hard to make her life her own. She’s a web designer who makes her own hours, which might be twenty four hours or until she drops, whichever comes first. She has her own apartment that might feel and be empty even after living there for four years, so what. She makes enough to indulge her passion for traveling and she prefers going alone because then there’s no one to tell her they don’t want to spend hours in a museum. She has a best friend who keeps her connected to real life and can pull her away from her laptop, even if it’s just one friend it’s still a friend. She has a good life, and most days she’s fine with it. She’s been taking care of herself for years and she doesn’t need anyone’s help.
Okay, maybe just this once, and just until she can walk without crying. Besides, this is a one-time kind of thing. It’s not every day a nearly one hundred pound Rottweiler takes off on her without warning. As soon as her right ankle doesn’t explode in pain when she steps on it, and her left knee stops feeling like it’s being poked with a sharp object, she’s out the door.
She’s gone this long by herself, and really, she’s happier that way... really. Now, if it’s sex he’s after that’s something she’s very willing to have the doctor’s healing touch for. Besides, it won’t last long, it never does. So she’ll enjoy it until he comes to his senses and realizes he could do better.
Because, as far as everything else in her life is concerned, she’s fine. Really.