Badge of Honor by India Lord
Scars—a badge of honor denoting strength.
Milly
My hellish month is looking up!
I’ve scored a private nursing job.
No more sleeping in my car, stressing about my debts.
My patient is a military man. Gorgeous. Tattooed. Built. He’s also temporarily blind and tries to sack me during my first hour on the job.
I’m way past desperate, so let him try to banish me.Connor
All I want is to recover and return to my men in Afghanistan.
The problem is without my sight, I’m helpless as a kitten.
My family treats me like a child. When they get tired of my temper, they hire her.
The woman is determined, I’ll give her that. But there’s something about her that intrigues me, makes my mind wander to kissing and pleasure and soft curves.
Too bad we have no future.Contains a grumpy, injured military man, a scarred nurse, and a little small town instalove, which makes everything better.
“Hold still while I clean your face. You’re bleeding everywhere. I’m going to place my hand on your shoulder.” A verbal warning, so he didn’t freak at the physical contact. I continued to inform him of my intentions.
The tension left his broad shoulders, and his frown relaxed maybe a millimeter. Up close, he was a handsome specimen. More rugged than pretty, his skin a golden bronze from sun exposure. A shaggy beard framed his mouth and jawline, and he wore a pair of black shorts and nothing else. Tattoos curled across his biceps and decorated sculpted pectoral muscles.
“Are you staring at me?” he asked, his bandaged gaze turning in my direction.
“Yes.”
“Well, stop.”
“I’m a nurse.”
“It doesn’t feel like a nurse stare,” he muttered.
A snicker escaped me. “Hold the gauze to your cheek while I open the iodine.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“True, but you’ve bled over the sheets.” I seized his right hand and lifted it to his cheek.
“You’re bossy.” Now he sounded intrigued rather than grumpy.
“It comes with the job.” I deftly opened the iodine bottle and transferred the yellow liquid to a blob of cotton wool. An instant later, I lifted his hand and covered the wound with the pungent liquid.
“Ow.”
“Don’t be a baby.” I lifted the cotton wool and applied a plaster covered with cartoon characters. “That should do the trick.”
“What have you done?” He’d heard the grin in my words.
“Nothing.”
“You’ve used my niece’s plasters,” he said after a long pause. He stood abruptly, anger and frustration returning to his features. “Dammit, I don’t need a nurse. Talk to Carolyn on your way out, and she’ll pay you for today. You’re fired.”
An incurable romantic and a lover of reading—romance, of course—it was inevitable India Lord turned to writing next. India writes sassy, steamy romances with strong alpha heroes, curvy heroines who are no pushovers, and a happy ending. A must, in India’s opinion.When India isn’t writing, she loves to walk and explore the countryside. She’s also a dedicated researcher of cheese scones—her favorite treat to eat with a cup of tea.
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