Page 24 of Beyond the Stroke

“Did you hear what I said?” I rush after him.

He stops in front of a deep green Jeep Rubicon. The windows, top and doors are taken off. It’s a rugged vehicle in a warm green that suits him, which is a weird thing to think about a guy I barely know.

He sets my stuff in the trunk, then loads the dogs into the backseat before turning in my direction.

“Medical services are on me. I’m the one who made you fall.”

The pain etched on his handsome face makes my chest squeeze. I don’t like it. Even though I’m the one hurt, I’d do anything for him to stop looking at me like that.

His large hand cradles my hurt wrist. Leaning closer, he brushes his lips delicately against my wrist bone.

“Please, Wildflower.” This time when he says the nickname, my hackles don’t rise. It’s got to be the endorphins released from my injured wrist putting me in this woozy, punch-drunk state. “We need to get it looked at. At least an X-ray to rule out a fracture or broken bone.”

“Is there any point in arguing with you?” I ask.

“No.”

Still in a daze, his firm hands wrap around my waist to hoist me up into the passenger seat. He reaches across my body to buckle the seat belt and the scent of him, laundry soap, sea salt and masculine sweat, invades my space.

“I could have done that myself.” It comes out as a faint whisper.

“I know. You’re incredibly capable.” He grins, as if he knows other people acknowledging that I’m competent is my jam.

Chef, Lulu, and Scout sit obediently on the floor, while Rory sets Cali on my lap, snuggling her beneath the seat belt to keep her safe.

“I’m taking you to see my team’s athletic trainer. She’ll examine your wrist.”

I nod, the throbbing pain making me more agreeable than I would normally be. The pain makes me notice unusual things about Rory. Like how his long fingers wrap around the steering wheel, leaving his thumb to slide over the front of the smooth leather.

On the drive, I can’t help but think about how hot he looks. His muscular thighs pressed against the confines of his board shorts. Big hands, long fingers.

He catches me staring and grins.

I inhale sharply. Maybe the pain is making me delirious.

We make four stops, dropping off each dog along the route, and Rory helps me get them inside and settled.

Finally, he pulls into the Coral Cove Aquatic Center parking lot and rushes to open my door.

Inside the aquatic center, the smell of chlorine hits my nose, clean and sharp.

“The athletic trainer’s office is this way.” Rory guides me through the lobby and down a hallway.

We enter a room, and inside Rory waves to a young woman with coppery blonde hair braided over her shoulder.

“Hey, Rory.” She wraps him in a big hug, before pulling back, her brows drawing down with concern. “Please tell me your knee isn’t bothering you.”

“It’s not me.” His palm, warm and secure on my lower back, ushers me forward. “My friend fell. She hurt her wrist.Ihurt her wrist, and I was hoping you’d look at it.”

There’s a clearing of a throat, and the woman at the front desk to our right shakes her head. “Rory, she’s not a member of the swim club. She’s not under our trainers’ care.”

“I need you to make an exception.” Rory’s usual friendly grin is replaced by a hard line. “Please, Winnie.”

Winnie waves off the woman at the front desk. “I got this, Karen.”

We follow Winnie to a room down the hall and she shuts the door behind us.

“I’m Elowyn Mitchell, the Carolina Current’s athletic trainer. Everyone calls me Winnie.”

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