Simon turned to look at the construction worker, who held his hand.
“What happened?” Simon asked just as blood started to slide through Trevor’s fingers.
“Nothing. It’s okay.”
Great. The construction worker cut his hand before Simon had even decided if he wanted to give the man the job or not. That couldn’t be a good sign.
“Let me see it,” he said. “And what did you cut it on?”
“Nothing. It’s okay. It’s not bad. My mistake. Either myself or Blake will call you in a day or so with more information.”
Simon reached out and grabbed Trevor’s hand. His vision swam a little, not because he had a problem with blood but because he had a problem with injured hands.
“It’s deep. You need stitches.”
“No, it’s okay. I—”
“It’s not,” Simon cut him off, just as he saw a nail, the end broken off, sticking out of the wall. At least he knew the culprit. He added a tetanus shot to things Trevor might need. “Let’s go inside. We need to wrap it up to stop the bleeding and then get you to the ER for stitches.”
A hospital. The one place he didn’t want to go again, yet the place he used to consider home. This day was shaping up to be a real doozy.
CHAPTER TWO
The tone of Simon’s voice told Trevor the man definitely wasn’t happy about having to do this. Welcome to the fucking club. Trevor wasn’t either. What he really wanted to do was tell Simon to pull the stick out of his ass and relax. Oh, and Trevor could get himself to the hospital, thank you very much, but he managed to bite his tongue. Telling the guy off wasn’t the best way to get this job.
Not that he probably had a chance now. Ripping his hand open on a nail sticking out of the wall wasn’t the best way to show the guy how capable he was.
Perfect. Just perfect. Blake would be understanding about it like he always was, but Trevor knew what he’d be thinking—that if he’d gone himself, this wouldn’t have happened.
And he’d be right.
Simon’s steps were quick as he led Trevor back to the other house. If his hand wasn’t bleeding all over the damn place, Trevor would take the time to admire the man’s ass. It was tight, sexy, but definitely nice handfuls to grab ahold of. Too bad he was an uptight prick.
Simon’s movements were smooth as he cleaned Trevor’s hand and wrapped it with gauze and tape from a first-aid kit. Either Simon cut himself a lot, or he had experience. Not that it surprised him. The guy reeked of money, and a holier-than-thou attitude. It would make sense if he was in the medical field.
“Really, I can drive myself to the hospital. It’s a cut on my hand.”
“No. It’s my responsibility. It happened on my property,” he said tensely.
Shit. “You don’t have to worry about that.” They definitely weren’t getting the job now. The guy felt like he had to pay for Trevor’s injury. And maybe technically he was supposed to, but it was Trevor’s dumbass mistake, not paying attention. That was important to him now, taking responsibility for his own actions.
“Actually, I do. My car is this way.” He looked at Trevor like he was an idiot.
Don’t hit him, don’t hit him, don’t hit him, Trevor repeated in his head. It was an easy way to handle conflicts before. Things were different now. He was a twenty-five year old man. He could and would take care of himself. Still, he didn’t want to screw this up more than he already had, so Trevor followed Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass to the car, wishing like hell he could tell Simon a dick was a lot more fun.
They were silent the whole way to the hospital. When they got to the Emergency Room, Simon walked up the counter. “I’m Dr. Simon Malone, part of the cardiac team at Roosevelt Heart and Vascular Institute in San Francisco. We had a little accident on my property. Mr...”
Simon turned his determined eyes on Trevor.
“Dixon,” he supplied his last name for the second time.
“Mr. Dixon cut the palm of his hand pretty bad. It’s going to need stitches.”
“I’ll let the nurse know, Dr. Malone, and they’ll get him right back.” The receptionist scampered to the back.
“You shouldn’t have done that. I can wait like everyone else.” Shit like that pissed Trevor off; Dr. Malone, throwing his title around like he was more important than everyone else.
Trevor ignored the throb in his hand as Simon raised a brow at him. Of course. This wasn’t about Trevor. It was Simon who couldn’t wait.
“Why don’t you go? I’ll have someone pick me up. I don’t need anyone here holding my hand. As far as I’m concerned, this didn’t even happen on your property.”
