Page 7 of A Spark of Luck
“I heard.” His voice gave away no impatience, but she hurried to the sink anyway. She washed her hands and dried them, taking more time than necessary to snap on gloves because she needed calm, confident control. The silence weighed on her, but she stifled an impulse to be chatty.
She pulled the light over to the table. “Let’s have a look. You’ve put weight on the leg?”
“Yeah, Doc. Several days now. It’s pulling, but I’ve been babying it like you said. Had my full weight on it yesterday with no problem.”
“No pain?”
“Some, but mostly soreness. Stiff. Not pain.”
She imagined his body was more accustomed to the vagaries of discomfort, so she didn’t comment. “Pulling will minimize after I get the top stitches out. A few rounds of therapy after that should solve the problem.”
She picked up the scissors. “My hands are cold, so heads-up.”
He nodded. “No worries. Air conditioning is turned down against the heat.”
“Yeah, I read the weather graph, too. The heat here is ridiculous.”
“You have a favorite time to be here?”
She paused at the sarcasm in his tone and couldn’t stop the snort of humor out of her mouth. “No, but I’m not a fan of cold weather. I’m from California originally.”
“Cali girl, huh?”
“All my life.”
“Second tour?”
“Yeah, my first was during the spring. Can’t say I’m loving September, either.”
She pushed the sheet aside, exposing pale skin and the results of her handiwork.
She dropped into silence, studying the stitches. “The wound looks good. Let’s get these out.” She started snipping and continued her silence with an extreme force of will. LT followed suit. He had his head on his arms and stared at the wall, not watching her like he had last time.
Twenty minutes later she stretched her back and dropped the scissors on the tray. She reached over and pulled the sheet over his bare hip. Out of sight out of mind was a lie, but necessary to the fragile nature of her emotions.
She picked up her iPad and started typing into his chart. “Finished. The skin is a bit puckered from the stitches, but it’s healed and that shouldsmooth out. Go easy stretching it until the skin gets elastic again around the scar. Might try rubbing Vitamin E in the surrounding skin. That should help. There’s no bleeding so you’re well on the way to being healed. You can work out again, but start gradually, wear a wrap on it when you exercise, and seek out help from physical therapy if you have problems. Test out the flexibility and use that as your guide.”
He finally shifted to look at her. “Cleared for duty?”
She couldn’t help giving his face the once over from green eyes to stern mouth. “Yes, you’re cleared. Go slow for a couple of days until you know your limit.” She pushed back in her chair, putting distance between them, and continued her entry.
He sat up, shifting the sheet over his lap. Breath jammed in her throat. She wanted to see this man naked in a personal way, and the feeling rose to choke her. A hum throbbed between them.
“Need authorization for your command?”
“Yeah, Doc.”
His voice caused an epic tremor to skitter from her girl parts to the tips of her toes. “I’ll get that taken care of. Pick the authorization up from the head nurse. Take care now.” She turned to exit but he stopped her.
“Thanks, Doc. I appreciate the care.”
She was a sucker for sincerity. Because his tone was laced with professionalism, she followed his lead.
“You’re welcome, LT. Be safe out there.” She escaped, determined to let this feeling go. This was no place for romantic entanglements, regardless of whether other people did it. People were dying and needed her, and the LT’s life was a mass of classified assignments and handling nasty situations. Sex wasn’t a commodity for her, and entanglements were exhausting, emotional, and messy. If regret niggled, she refused to listen.
§§§§
Hunt stared at the ceiling in his quarters, damn sure it was time to rise but not moving. He would make any trade for a decent cup of coffee. He could journey to the mess instead of drinking the swill made in the Command Center, but he couldn’t find the necessary motivation. The team had spent tedious days sweeping miles of travel routes before dignitaries arrived in Kabul for a summit. In the interim, he hadn’t slept. He could make an excuse that his leg was bothering him, but he didn’t lie to himself. It was a constant irritant, but that wasn’t his sleeplessness problem.
