Mr. Owen’s face twisted. “Little slow, honey? Let me repeat myself. I don’t want a woman botching up my goddamn tooth. Why sit here and have you strain your little arms for an hour just to have you go and get a man to come and fix your mistakes? The tooth is in there deep and good, the other doctor told me so. It’s retained.” The man gave a cocky smile like he was some sort of Einstein instead of a rotten-mouthed dipshit. “You don’t have what it takes.”
He folded his arms over his chest and shot a smug look between Harper and Dan, as though his logic was foolproof. Dan’s heart sank when he saw Harper nodding. Nope, not while he was around.
“Listen up, dic—”
“Dan.” Harper’s voice cut through the room.
He met her heated stare. Why was she getting mad at him? Why wouldn’t she let him handle this guy for her?
Harper cleared her throat and moved to the computer. She clicked through a few screens before pulling up an X-ray of Mr. Owens’s lower jaw. The remaining teeth in the man’s mouth glowed white on the image, jutting at unnatural angles and littered with dark shadows that even Dan’s untrained eyes knew meant decay. Two twisted roots were buried partially below the bone near the back, the tooth next to it almost completely black and tilted at an odd angle.
“So, here is your panoramic. As you can see”—she pointed to the small line of jaw bone the teeth rested in—“your lack of oral hygiene and neglect of your gums has left you with severe alveolar bone loss. This means that your periodontal ligament is almost completely worn away from the root of your teeth, including these retained roots and molar geared for removal today. This bone loss means your teeth are so weakly held in your mouth, they don’t need a lot of force for me to remove them.” She shot Mr. Owen a tense smile.
“Believe me,” Harper continued, “I’ve removed much sturdier teeth from men with drastically stronger, thicker bone. In fact, an excess of force—the force you seem to expect from a male practitioner—would likely shatter your delicate, rotten tooth and bone, leading to excess trauma.” She leaned against the sink counter.
“Any excessive trauma could result in the piercing of your inferior alveolar nerve, causing paresthesia, or the molar fracturing in the socket and the need for a surgeon to lay a flap, causing greater wounds. Your years of smoking mean you have disrupted wound healing and would put you at risk for infections and possible necrosis. I don’t believe in laying unnecessary flaps and prefer to do the least invasive methods of removal to also prevent alveolar fracturing during the procedure—a common complication seen when big, strong men whip impacted teeth out with too much force.”
Harper wore an expressionless mask. Dan couldn’t look away. He wished he had popcorn. She was good.
“So, Mr. Owen, my womanly hands are the best to handle the fragility of your neglected tooth. It will likely pop right out.” She made a loud popping noise that made both men jump.
“You see, you aren’t special, Mr. Owen. You’re one of the least exciting cases I have, compared to something like an orthognathic surgery or trauma intervention.”
She paused again and gave him a beaming smile. Both Dan and Mr. Owen gaped at her.
“But,” she continued, unfazed by the shock bouncing between the men, “as this was supposed to be a fast procedure, I have another patient scheduled in half an hour. Since we have wasted so much time arguing, I’m going to have to dismiss you as a noncompliant patient. I hope you have a great day.”
Harper pushed away from the counter and moved toward the door.
Mr. Owen’s mouth flapped open and closed like a dying fish. “Get me your supervisor!” he croaked.
Dan bit back a laugh at the crack in Mr. Owen’s voice.
“Gladly,” Harper said, barely turning her head over her shoulder. “I’ll send Dr. Ren in to speak with you. Dan, could I have a word in the hall?”
Dan followed her out, wanting to prop her up on his shoulder and carry her around the clinic for a victory lap. But as soon as the door clicked behind them, Harper turned on him.
Slight cracks showed in her calm composure. Anger heated her cheeks and her dark eyes were sharp and alert. He felt his own temper rise at the fact that the idiot had hurt her, and he prepared to apologize on the man’s behalf.
“Harp—”
“What do you think you’re doing?” Her voice was harsher than he expected.
“W-what?”
“What was all that about? You were two seconds from exploding in there and the last thing I needed was another hotheaded man to deal with.”