Page 54 of Fool Me

“I landed back in Wyoming without a clue on how I was going to manage. Then you kiss me out of the blue, and it was like finding a four-leaf clover in a field of weeds—rare and beautiful.”

Everything spins and I’m not sure if it’s from the rock I took to the head or the way he just cracked the stone encasing my closed-off heart.

Without elaborating, he leaves me to put away the first aid kit and gear.

But I’m stunned. Almost-kisses, flirting, and sweet gestures all add up to one thing in my head: maybe I’m not alone in thinking this could be more than fake.

With everything packed, he slings a pack over each shoulder and walks over to me, offering his arm for support. “Let’s get you checked out. No arguing.”

I sigh, knowing he’s not letting this go. “You already looked at it and patched me up. Going to the hospital now is a waste. Between the two of us, we can handle it.” Just the thought of the hospital has me fighting down rising bile.

His lips pull down into a frown. “It could be more than a cut. You could have a head injury.”

“So assess me.”

“I can’t treat you.”

“I’m not asking you to. We both know there’s enough overlap that you can do a neurological assessment. Tell me what you see and I’ll make the call.”

His jaw tightens.

“Please,” I plead.

He nods, stepping closer. “Fine. But if I don’t like what I see, I’m taking you to the emergency room.” His fingers graze my chin, tilting my face toward the light as he studies my pupils. His eyes flick between them, his own brows furrowed in concentration.

“You’re cute when you concentrate,” I blurt out.

“Patient seems confused,” he deadpans, before releasing my chin. “Your pupils are equal and reactive.” He shifts, angling his phone light toward my eyes, watching them contract.

“See, I’m fine,” I insist.

His lips press into a firm line. “We aren’t done yet.”

Next, his hands skim down my arms, his thumbs brushing the inside of my wrists as he lifts them. His grip is steady, warm, and I can feel the heat of his body just inches from mine.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs.

I do.

“Hold your arms out. Palms up.”

I obey, and for a second, all I’m aware of is the sound of our breathing—the faint scent of chalk, sweat, and him between us.

“Any dizziness?” he asks, voice softer now.

“Nope.”

“Good.” His fingers trail down to my hands, testing my grip. His hold is firm on mine.

I squeeze back, putting everything into it, because I have no plans to go to the hospital and don’t want to disappoint him. “What’s the verdict, Doc?”

His lips twitch, but the worry doesn’t leave his expression. “Let’s check your balance.”

He steps back. I miss his touch immediately.

“Feet together, arms at your sides. Close your eyes again.”

I do, and the moment my eyes shut, my world tilts. My foot shifts to steady myself. So, I guess it wasn’t him making me dizzy. Fuck.

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