It’s Complicated (Her Billionaires #5)(100)
Author: Julia Kent

She would have to remember to ponder, sometime, how it was that they had moments during what were usually considered emergent situations—births, accidental traumas. No time for that speculation now—or for the possibility that the emergency at hand might, indirectly, be her fault.

Struggling to stand, Alex put his weight on his right leg, Trevor supporting him as Darla crouched, then stood, continuing pressure on the wound.

“I’m fine,” he groused.

And then nearly fell as his left hip went on him. Only Trevor’s strength kept him upright.

“Let’s get you over to Josie’s,” Trevor said in a low, authoritative voice. It made Josie’s backbone straighten, and Darla’s eyes flashed with surprise.

The biggest shock was that Alex acquiesced, regarding Trevor a second time, now with some respect. Hopping at first, by the time they crossed the street and made it to Josie’s steps, Alex had modest control of his left leg.

“I don’t think I fractured anything,” he stated.

“You couldn’t walk if you had,” Josie answered, carrying the first-aid kit and thunking it on the porch.

“Actually, I’ve seen patients who could walk with hairline hip fractures,” Alex replied, his voice taking on that doctor tone Josie had come to associate with rolled eyes.

Her own eyes, that is.

“Your X-ray vision powers are duly noted, doctor. If you ever leave medicine you can always go into a career as a medical intuitive. Or Superman.”

“I’m fine.”

Josie fished around in the first-aid kit and—ah, yes. There it was. A small mirror. Holding it up to his cheek, she gestured to Darla to peel back the gauze.

Alex’s eyes searched the mirror. “Fuck,” he rasped.

“You need medical attention,” Josie insisted.

“I am getting medical attention,” Alex said. “From you.”

“But I’m not a doctor,” she said, acid in her voice.

Alex winced again.

Pride goeth before a fall. If only his ego had been there to catch him. He’d have landed on a bloated sack of overinflated importance the size of Cleveland.

What the hell had he been thinking? Between going for a fourth lap, staring down the dark-haired dude as if he could crush his trachea with his corneas, and not paying attention to where he was going, he’d not only made a complete ass of himself, and caused moderate injuries to his face, hip, and shoulder, but he’d inadvertently reminded Josie of why she had reason to be pissed at him. And efficiently set her up to skewer and disembowel him with a barb from his own big fat stupid mouth—mere moments after she’d used a lovely little term of endearment.

That was some skill.

“Let’s get you in my apartment and we can start icing your hip and shoulder. And wait for an ambulance,” Josie said, nudging the blonde guy to help support Alex.

“No,” he said, turning lamely toward the sidewalk that led to his house. God, this hurt. He wanted to rage and cry at the pain coursing through him. He must have fallen on his left side, because his shoulder was throbbing like a bitch and his hip was a solid chunk of pain-filled granite.

But the hands were fine.

Mission accomplished.

“Alex, you’re acting like a petulant schoolboy.” He froze. The words, the tone—it was like she’d channeled his mother.

Dear God.

“Then I’m a petulant schoolboy who is a board-certified physician and who can take care of himself,” he said stiffly, acutely conscious of not-whining. “What’s your name?” he asked blonde dude.

“Trevor.”

“I’m Alex. And who’s the other guy?”

“Joe.”

“And you are…?” The words came out in a menacing tone. He kind of liked that.

“Darla’s boyfriends.”

“Boyfriend…zzz…?” Alex looked at Josie. If it wouldn’t have caused searing pain, his eyebrows would be at his hairline. “You have a thing for threesomes?”

“No, my friends and relatives have a thing for threesomes,” Josie retorted. Trevor looked extremely uncertain and pulled back.

“And her new job’s all about—” Darla piped up.

“SHUT UP, DARLA!” Josie shouted. Darla wandered into the apartment building, muttering under her breath.

Motioning for Trevor to help him limp home, they made it about twenty feet before Josie huffed and caught up to them, carrying her first-aid kit.

“You’re impossible.”

“Then we’re a match,” he shot back.

“Seriously? C’mon, Alex. This is about your permanent health. You need to go to an ER.”

“I need to get home. My first-aid kit is better—it has way more supplies.”

“Size matters. Who knew,” Josie cracked.

The blonde guy snorted, but stopped when Alex glared at him. “Do you have Lidocaine in there?” Alex’s tone was supercilious, and he knew it, but he just wanted to get out from under the humiliation and pain. Being at home would help. He could make real decisions there, with his own kit, good lighting, and away from the ongoing misery that being so stupid was shelling out.

“Why would I?”

“I’ll need it to stitch this up.”

“You’re going to sew your own face? Hardcore, old man,” Trevor said in awe.

“Shut up,” Josie and Alex said in unison.

“I know! Shut up. Who does that? Who stitches their own flesh? It’s like that old movie from the 1960s—Rambo?” Trevor reached around Alex to shake his good hand.

“Really,” Alex frowned at him. It hurt his eye. “Seriously, how old are you?"

“We meant shut up as in stop talking.” Josie cleared her throat. “Darla, can you go get my keys? We need to get Alex down the street to his apartment.”

“You want to fold me into your little car? Like this? Absolutely not. Just get me home.” Lurching down the sidewalk with Rambo-lover his only support wasn’t cutting it.

“What do you suggest? We prop you up on a skateboard and roll you home?”

“Mama actually won one for us, Josie!” Darla said excitedly, coming out of the apartment holding a glass of water for Alex. “Drink this. You need it.” She turned around and rushed back inside.

“You are not putting me on a skateboard and rolling me home. That would be unsafe.”

“I know!” Josie exclaimed. “You might, oh, hit a sign or something!”