Page 39 of Doc Defence

“Yeah. Sorry, it’s all a bit fuzzy.” He shrugged. “But I know I was behaving like a total ass.”

Hel relaxed a little bit. He didn’t remember her practically throwing herself at him. A small part of her brain reminded her that he moved towards her. He kissed her.

Although she wouldn’t call it a kiss, their lips had barely brushed. Which, okay, was technically a kiss. But he didn’t remember, so it didn’t matter.

“That’s okay. Occupational hazard for me. I work in an emergency department. It’s a good day when no one takes a swing at me. Dropping the green whistle on the floor to annoy me doesn’t even register on my radar,” she reassured him.

But kissing did register on her radar, and she had replayed it over and over again. So many times, she was getting sick of telling herself to forget about it.

“People take swings at you?” Frost sounded surprised.

“Yeah. It’s part of the job. We see people at their absolute worst. The worst day of their lives, the worst pain, the worst drug trip, their worst mental breakdown. They often take it out on us.” Hel shrugged.

She wore trainers at work and was now excellent at getting out of the way, having developed a sixth sense of when it was time to run away and fetch the security guards to deal with the patient.

“That’s awful.” Frost sounded really concerned.

“Don’t you play a sport where you all seem to fight all the time?”

“Ahh. Yeah, but there are rules to the fights,” Frost explained, sitting forward on the sofa and putting his elbows on his knees.

He winced, and Hel didn’t even think, she was on her feet and moving around to the sofa.

“Why are you sitting like that? You should have your leg up. It’ll help the swelling.” She pushed him gently to lay back down and helped him lift his leg up onto the cushions. Then she grabbed one to put under it.

When he looked uncomfortable, she grabbed a few more and pushed them behind him, shuffling them around until she was satisfied.

For a moment, she forgot he wasn’t a patient but, in fact, a very handsome hockey player with the most gorgeous green eyes she had ever seen, which were now looking at her full of amusement.

She flushed and took a step away from him, then scuttled back to her chair.

“You were telling me about the fighting?” she prompted to distract from the awkward moment.

“Yeah. You’re only supposed to fight if both players agree.”

“And how do you agree? You shake hands and then put your fists up?” Hel held her hands up in front of her face as if she was a boxer.

Frost laughed. “Not quite. If both players drop their gloves, then that’s the signal you want to fight.”

“That sounds very civilised,” Hel said sarcastically. “The referee doesn’t mind?” she added.

“They mind,” Frost chuckled, then winced as the movement jolted his leg. “But it’s become so ingrained in the game they have to accept it.”

“That is truly bizarre.” Hel shook her head. She tried to avoid the fists that came her way at work at all costs. She couldn’t imagine voluntarily getting punched. “Do you get into many fights?”

“Not as many as I used to. I was much more hot-headed ten years ago.” He grinned ruefully.

“Has age slowed you down?” she asked cheekily.

Frost laughed again. “Yes. It has, and things which seemed so important at twenty-six, seem much less important at thirty-six.”

“People in their twenties really are morons,” Hel supplied.

“They really are,” Frost agreed.

“Speaking of. Where’s your girlfriend?” She couldn’t bring herself to say her stupid name.

“Did you call Star a moron?” Frost looked very serious, and Hel’s eyes widened.

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