The Cowbear's Christmas Shotgun Wedding (Curvy Bear Ranch 3) Read Online Free PDF

belly.
    After locating the first aid kit, he set it on the sink counter. He rifled through the contents. Bandages in all shapes and sizes were strewn throughout the box. He pulled out a bottle of iodine and a tube of antibiotic cream. He checked the expiration date on the cream. Fortunately it was good for another month.
    He grabbed a roll of gauze and found a stitching kit. Living this far away from a hospital meant they had to be ready for any medical emergency. Fortunately, Jack had kept his medical supplies up to date.
    “We’re going to have to wash out the wound first,” he said. “It’s going to hurt.”
    “It already hurts.”
    “It’s going to hurt more.”
    Asking her if she needed help standing was pointless, so he wrapped an arm around her waist and supported her as she wobbled to the sink. He turned the water on and waited. Too hot and it would burn her flesh, too cold and it wouldn’t do enough to clean the cut.
    Tension crackled in the air. She didn’t want his help, but that was too damn bad. His bear’s protective instinct wouldn’t allow him to leave her, not when she was bleeding all over the place.
    “How did you cut yourself?” When she hesitated he added, “I need to know what you cut yourself on to know whether or not you’ll need antibiotic shots.”
    “A piece of glass was hanging in the window. When I knocked it out, it fell and cut me.” She kept her gaze fixed on the flowing water.
    “You could have cut off your hand. If you’re going to insist on doing the repairs yourself, then you need to be careful. My offer still stands. If you need help, I’m here for you.”
    “Why are you doing this?”
    “What? Helping you? Because it’s the decent thing to do.” He could have sworn a flash of disappointment crossed her face before vanishing. Interesting. Maybe she did want his help but was too proud to ask for it. Like father, like daughter.
    As he moved her hand off of the cut, blood dribbled into the sink. At least the bleeding had slowed. He held onto her hand as he drew her arm into the water.
    She winced.
    “I’m sorry. I know it hurts,” he said.
    “Have you ever been cut like this?”
    He flashed back to his time in the Marines. “Once. I was in Baghdad on a supply mission. The convoy came under attack and the truck in front of us ran over an IED. The damn truck exploded, shooting shrapnel every which way. I was one of the lucky ones.”
    “I didn’t know you served.”
    “You’ve been gone a long time. There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said.
    “I suppose not.”
    With his free hand, he reached for the iodine. “This is going to sting.”
    He gripped her wrist and straightened her arm. As he poured the antiseptic, it splashed onto the skin around the wound, turning it a sallow orange. To her credit, she didn’t make a sound. He admired her strength. Most women would be reduced to tears by now.
    “You’re doing great. Almost done,” he said.
    When he finished, he screwed the cap back on the bottle and set it aside. Now came the tricky part. He needed to stitch it together, but he didn’t have any numbing agent. Would it just be better to wrap a bandage around it and drive her to Bozeman?
    A quick glance out of the window made the choice easy. Another storm was blowing in from the north. They’d never make it all the way to Bozeman before it hit. He could take her to the clinic in town, but they weren’t usually open on Sundays. By the time he hunted down a doctor, she could be in serious trouble. The best option was for him to sew her up.
    “I’m going to have to put a few stitches in your arm,” he said.
    “What?” Her face paled. “I don’t think I need—”
    “You need stitches. Trust me.”
    She narrowed her gaze. “What makes you so qualified to sew me up? Shouldn’t we just go into town?”
    “It’s Sunday. No one will be around and I’m more than qualified.”
    “Really?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm.
    “I was a