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ridiculous. I told you I'll be fine."
    He nodded, not focusing on her, but trying to decide where to go now that they were through the doors. "I have no doubt you will be fine. But you need a doctor to verify that."
    "The doctor is just going to tell me to go home and take it easy for a few days."
    "Probably," Christian agreed. He frowned up at a sign that read «Emergency» with an arrow pointing down the hall. He quickly strode in that direction.
    "So why not skip the middle man and take me home so I can start taking it easy," she said, her voice sounding a little frantic, even to her own ears.
    "Stop arguing," he ordered, his attention still on the signs leading to the emergency room.
    She wanted to argue, especially since she didn't care for how he'd just spoken to her, but her head was throbbing. And she knew an argument was pointless. He was a brick wall.
    Still, she couldn't see a doctor. Her bank account couldn't afford the cost. Even if they billed her. Even if they let her make payments. She had to get out of here.
    "Please. Stop."
    The desperation in her voice finally got through to him. He stopped instantly.
    He frowned at her, his face just inches from hers, his pale eyes alive with worry. "What is it? Am I hurting you?"
    His gaze roamed over her body, looking for signs of problems.
    "No," she told him, then hesitated. She didn't want to tell this guy she couldn't afford to see a doctor. Not when he'd made it clear he already looked down on her. But she didn't have a choice. As usual, she'd have to set her pride aside, and do whatever was necessary to survive.
    "I don't have any insurance," she finally stated flatly.
    He stared at her for a moment. Then his frown deepened. "Insurance?"
    "Yes, coverage to see a doctor. To help cover the cost of medical care."
    He shook his head as if to say he had no idea what she was talking about. How could he not know what medical insurance was? Then she realized that he likely wasn't from the U.S. originally. That would explain his unusual accent. Maybe he had lived somewhere with universal health care.
    "Are you Canadian?"
    His brows drew even closer together as he stared at her as if she'd gone nutty.
    "Canadian?" he finally asked, but didn't wait to discuss the topic further. "Jolee, are you stalling?"
    "No. Here you need insurance to see a doctor."
    "Well, that's preposterous. You need a doctor, and you will see one."
    Jolee almost smiled. Almost. She had to remember this man was a first-class snot. Even if he was being rather gallant at the moment. Of course, he did nearly run you down with his car. Although she'd been a little responsible for that, too. She hadn't been paying attention, her thoughts on the run-in at the bar, and what she'd do if Rick and his buddies returned while she was walking home.
    "This woman needs to see a doctor."
    Jolee blinked to see that he was obviously done discussing insurance, and was now talking to a custodian who pushed a gray mop around the glossy linoleum flooring.
    The custodian, puzzled by the odd man carrying a dirt-and leaf-covered woman, pointed at the alcove labeled "Registration."
    Jolee found herself headed to a window where a woman in a white coat, with large-framed glasses and tightly curled hair, looked up at them.
    "My goodness," she said, her eyes looking abnormally wide behind her thick lenses. "What happened?"
    "She was nearly hit by a car. She needs to see a doctor."
    "Please put me down," Jolee hissed, feeling even more ridiculous now that they had observers.
    "Have a seat over there," the woman suggested, pointing to the waiting area behind them. "I'll be right out with some paperwork, then we'll get you in to see a doctor."
    He didn't look pleased with that answer, but when she pointed again to the waiting room, he did go to the small area, setting Jolee carefully onto one of the metal and plastic chairs.
    He sat down beside her, still looking very confused.
    "I don't understand," he said. "Why can't you see the