Page 60 of Wild Card

“Fine.”

“Not hungover?”

“Luckily, I don’t get hungover.”

“Good to know.”

“Or at least I was fine until I learned you listened to my private conversation.”

“Add it to my observation skills.”

“You’re shameless,” she snaps.

“I’ll take any advantage I can.”

“Like bribing my dog?”

“Wolf loves me. I give him bliss.”

“The phrase was blissful exhaustion.”

“Same thing.”

“Wait, did you say you’re at the gym?”

“I am.”

“You’re not released to work out.”

“Never stopped me before.”

“You could reverse all the progress. The original injury paired with the second need?—"

“Babe, I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re putting my sign-off on your release in jeopardy.”

“Not a chance.”

“Cocky!”

“Confident.”

“Can you at least pretend you’re not doing upper body?”

“Sure, I can pretend.”

“I’m hanging up before my head explodes.”

“Enjoy your lunch.” I disconnect and prepare for the examination.

“You sent the dog a stuffed unicorn?” Ford groans in disappointment. “I’d deny a date with you on principle.”

“Are you trying to date her or the dog?” Major goads. “Because it’s a damn shame if you’re wooing a canine.”

“Hardy-har-har. Fucking hilarious.”

“Listen, no shame in admitting it.”

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