Mystic Cowboy(9)

Albert smiled and nodded his head. He said nothing.

Madeline tried again. “Thank you for cleaning up. I appreciate it.”

“He doesn’t speak much English,” Clarence said as he carried the sheets they’d used as table covers back to the world’s loudest washer. Apparently, it had been invented before ball bearings.

“Oh.” That was a problem. She was unable to talk to a full one-third of her staff? Big problem. She made sure to slow down this time. Keep it simple. “Well. Thank you.”

“He can hear, you know.” Rebel was at her side again, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “You don’t have to yell.”

It should sound like a criticism, but the way it came out of his mouth was something much closer to a sweet nothing he was whispering in her ear. The heat spread from her stomach up to her face. She hated blushing, that betrayal of a physical reaction. And this Rebel was making her blush with every single word he said. She took a deep breath and ignored the heat. “I wasn’t yelling.”

He moved his hand, like he was about to reach out and touch someone—her—but he caught himself. “You got louder, Doctor.”

“I apologize if I offended your delicate tympanic membranes…” She couldn’t bring herself to say Rebel. Just couldn’t. The man had to have a real name. Even something like Tall Trees.

“If?” A lazy grin snuck across his face, and for some reason, Madeline was reminded of one of the movies she’d watched in preparation for the big move—Dances with Wolves. The way he moved, the way he looked at her—he was like the wolf moving through the grass. He didn’t miss a trick. If she wasn’t careful, he’d have her outflanked before she knew what was happening.

Not like that would be a bad thing. Not all bad, anyway.

She remembered he’d translated for Tara earlier. “Do you speak Lakota?”

He shifted, and his hips stilled. Thank goodness, Madeline thought. She had no idea how much more of that she could take.

“More than most people.” And with that, he began to tap a heel onto the aged linoleum.

The perfect ending to this day was a sound like a ball-peen hammer beating itself into her brain. Which was nice, actually, in that it reminded her that no matter how hot—literally and physically—this man was, flirting did not belong in her clinic. “Please tell him I appreciate the job he’s doing.”

Rebel nodded his head and said words she didn’t have a hope or a prayer of ever understanding, much less pronouncing. She must have been out of her mind thinking she was going to get that from a book. But Albert smiled again. “Thanks,” he said, his accent so thick it was almost unintelligible.

Okay, she thought with a genuine smile. We can start at thanks and go from there. She turned her attention back to Jesse, who had at least stopped moaning. “When was the last time you had your vaccines updated?”

A hush fell over the clinic as they all turned to stare at her like she’d farted in the elevator. “Uh, there’s a new adult booster shot for the chicken pox,” she went on and wondered what she’d done this time. “Reduces the chances of getting shingles.”

“Not interested,” Rebel said, dismissing the very idea in the same tone he might use to shoot down a suggestion that they all picnic on the moon today.

Not interested? Madeline didn’t care if he was interested or not. As far as she was concerned, the flu shot was not optional. “But I don’t see where he’s even had his hepatitis vaccinations. And everyone should get the flu shot—do you know how many people I saw today that had the stomach flu? This whole population is susceptible to H1N1 and other seasonal flu viruses.”

“Not interested.” Rebel dropped his head as his shoulders hunched forward.

He looked like he was going to spring at any second, and all that nervous energy was going to uncoil on her in the worst way possible. Oh, shit. Outflanked. And he was going to rip her to shreds.

Clarence came to her rescue, God bless the man. He cleared his throat and stepped between the two of them—ostensibly to carry the scissors back to the autoclave be sterilized. “Even when Rebel pays us for the X-rays, we won’t be able to get that stuff. We’ve got too many other things we need.”

Payment? All she’d heard all day was that no one paid. She looked at Rebel. “You pay?”

Rebel narrowed his eyes, but he started shifting his weight again. “I need an invoice first. But I pay my bills.”

Amen and halleluiah, someone who did. If someone else was going to help cover the cost of supplies, she’d do her damnedest to make nice. “I’m sure Tara will have one for you in a few days, after she runs it through insurance.”