Page 12 of Deking at Love
Her smile slid away.“Special as in especially difficult.”She flapped her hand at him in a lie-down gesture, but he refused.She propped a fist on her hip.“Lie back so I can get through this evaluation.”
He pushed an exasperated sigh from his lungs and reclined.“You did that to get back at me, didn’t you?”
“Get back at you for what, Sam?”Her voice was all syrupy innocence.“I’ve been using that same joke on all my patients today.”Why this disappointed him, he wasn’t sure.“And if I was trying toget back at you,” she continued, “believe me, I have much more effective ways of doing that.”She glanced up at him, an evil glint in her eyes.“Keep that in mind if you decide to misbehave.”
What kind of misbehavior was she talking about?Several different scenarios streamed through his consciousness, and only one involved his ankle.
“This isn’t half bad, actually, and that’s no joke.It’s turning a lovely shade of bluish purple, which is normal, and the swelling’s about where it was yesterday, maybe even a smidge improved.”
“A smidge?What does that even mean?”he huffed, his frustration on a knife’s edge.
“It means ‘slight.’I see slight improvement.”
“That’s bad, right?Shouldn’t it be going down more?”
“It will.Right now I call it a win because what we don’t want is for it to go the other way.Overall, it looks like you followed directions and took care of it last night.I’m going to try some range-of-motion exercises, so you tell me if you feel any pain, okay?”
Her touch was firm yet gentle.Only once did she manipulate his ankle in such a way that made him wince.
“That hurt, huh?”
He clenched his jaw.“No.”
“You’re not going to help meoryourself by holding back.Look, I get it.You’re a hockey player, and you think you’re a tough guy.”
“Iama tough guy,” he protested.
“Not right now, you’re not.”She upped the pressure on his ankle.“Do you need me to prove it?”
“No!”
“Good.I’d hate to have to hurt you.”
He let out a sarcastic chuckle.“Yeah, I bet.”
She released his foot and stood back.“You’re going to need to be honest with me so I can gauge what’s going on.”She unfolded her arms and motioned between them with two fingers.“We’re both on Team Sam here, and Team Sam’s only purpose is to get Sam back on the ice.Are you on board?”
“Yes,” he gritted out.
“Okay.Now we’re going to play a little game.”
He eyed her suspiciously.“What kind of game?”
“I want you to pretend your foot’s a pencil.You’re going to draw me the alphabet.”
“The whole thing?”
She nodded.“A to Z.”She paused and tapped her index finger against her cheek.“Oh, I see how this could be a problem.Do youknowall the letters?I can get you a cheat sheet if you don’t.”
If he’d had a pillow handy, he’d have chucked it at her.Instead, he grumbled, “Smartass.”
“Let’s see if you’re smarter than a first grader.”
“Yes, teacher,” he snarked.
“If you cheat and skip letters, I’ll know.Don’t make me sing the song while you do it.”Her eyes were perfectly clear but completely unreadable.She was a regular ice princess when it came to giving away her emotions, but she hadn’t always been like that.
“Thesong?God forbid,” he muttered as he began manipulating his foot.
