Sure, he’s sexy and rugged and looks perfect as the actor in Dr. Davis’ demonstrations. But the same could be said for many of the veterans and current service members. Maybe it’s the fact that his story is so powerful— one minute he was rescuing people and the next minute Dr. Davis was rescuing him.
I’m still lost in thought, but trying to concentrate on Max’s balancing exercises, when Lance rushes into the training room.
“Girl, have I got some news for you.”
I look up at him and smile. He always cheers me up no matter my mood, and I’m reminded once against how lucky I am to have a boss like him.
“What is it?”
“Can’t say now, but come to my office when you’re done.”
“Sure,” I say, since I was planning to anyway, with the notes from Max’s session, to go over with and then give to Lance.
Maybe Lance will have some ideas for how to speed up Max’s recovery.
But once the session ends and I’m in Lance’s office, he doesn’t give me time to discuss Max.
“Guess what, guess what, guess what?”
“What? Geez, Lance, did you win the lottery or something?”
“You know I’d be in Ibiza right now if I did!” Lance responds. “This is work-related, which can never be as good as winning the lottery. But still. Do you remember that guy from the presentation last week? And that doctor you grilled?”
I try very hard to keep a straight face, knowing that Lance can read me very well. Of course I remember. But I try to remain nonchalant.
“More or less,” I say, shrugging.
“I knew you did, Girl. Stop playing coy with me.” He shakes his head at me, vigorously. “But anyway. Yes, this is the guy of which I speak. And, well, believe it or not…”
And then there’s a knock at the door, which is half-way open anyway. I turn around to see him. Harlow. The object of my thoughts— both good and bad— for the past few days.
He’s standing in my workplace, and he’s looking at me with eyes full of the same surprise that I feel. They’re also full of other things. Lust. Desire. Happiness.
I can’t help but smile back at him even though I have no idea what he’s doing here.
Chapter 14 – Harlow
I drove to Piñon Physical Therapy at 1:30 on Tuesday afternoon. It’s earlier than I need to be on the road, but I’ve never been to this facility and I hate being late.
The whole way to the clinic, I feel annoyed that I have to impress some medical nerds just to be cleared for active duty. I doubt they’ve ever been to war. They’re certainly not going to understand my desire to be back.
I walk through the office doors a bit early, but everyone I meet seems excited I’m here. Apparently I’m like a celebrity around here.
“I’m Dr. So-and-So and we’re excited to have you with us.”
“I’m Dr. Whoever and I look forward to helping you fully recover.”
The names and faces blur together.
I am fully recovered, I want to tell them. I’m just fine. I don’t even know why I’m here.
Instead, I smile and nod and look appreciative.
One doctor appears to be the head of the joint. After we shake hands and exchange the normal pleasantries, he takes me into his office and closes the door.
“Mr. Bradford, it is a pleasure to have you with us. The entire staff looks forward to working with you. Dr. Warren, whom you have already met, will be overseeing your treatment to make sure that everything is on course, but your initial sessions will actually be with our intern.”
I like the sound of that. They can’t think I’m that screwed up if they’ve assigned me to an intern. And it’ll be easy to impress a guy so new and low on the hierarchy.
“I’ll show you around and then I’ll take you to meet her. She’s our top and brightest intern right now. Her name is Whitney Reid.”
Her. A female intern. I can’t say that I expected that but I guess makes sense since some physical therapists are women. I’ll just flirt with her and it’ll be even easier to get her to sign off on my physical fitness.
“I’m looking forward to it,” I tell this doctor, whose name I already forget.
He takes me on a brief tour around the facilities, which do look to be rather state-of-the-art, and introduces me to more people I’m sure I’ll soon forget. Everyone seems to have been made aware that I’d be here, because they look impressed or even embarrassed, bowing slightly and saying things like “the pleasure is all mine” and “please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”
I feel like I’m fucking royalty or something. Sure, I’m used to being on stage and demonstrating my miraculous comeback, but it’s usually as Dr. Davis’ right-hand man. All the credit and glory usually goes to him. I guess I rather like this place.
“And now I’ll introduce you to Whitney,” says the doctor, rapping softly on a door that’s already open. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy working…”
But I’m not listening to him, or looking at him. The only thing taking up all my attention is the woman I’m looking at. The mystery woman.
Whitney.
The one with the ass.
The one with the tits.
The one with the tenacity to question Dr. Davis during an awards ceremony presentation.
It dawns on me that she might not be the best person to work with me. She seemed very skeptical of my progress.
But then she turns away from me, to whisper something to another physical therapist, and I catch a glimpse of her cleavage and then the shape of her ass. I guess maybe physical therapy with this intern won’t be that bad, after all.
Chapter 15 – Whitney
I blink when I see Harlow, as if it’s all in my imagination.
I turn to Lance and say, “Is that…?”
“I was in the middle of trying to tell you,” he whispers back.
“Harlow Bradford,” says my patient Max, taking a step forward with his good leg and stretching his arm out. “I’ve heard so much about you. Max Wishard. Senior Airman.”
“Nice to meet you too,” says Harlow, walking through the door and shaking hands with Max.
He’s mere inches away from me now, and I don’t know whether to feel excited or dreadful.
“Your story is so inspiring,” says Max. “It’s helped me get through so much worry and anxiety. I hope to be able to work with Dr. Davis too.”
Harlow bows his head in a grateful nod.
“And how are you doing?” he asks.
“It’s slow going, but I’ll get there. Right, Whitney?”
Max flashes a grin at me and I can’t bear it.
“Great, good to hear,” says Harlow. “Tell me about your story. What unit were you in?”
I’m kind of amazed at how sweet Harlow is being to Max. On stage he came across as some rough-and-tumble tough guy but now he’s being so gentle and encouraging.
And so damn hot. But I can’t let my hormones take over my rational thought process.
“Um, Lance, can I speak with you privately?” I ask, as Max launches into his story to Harlow.
We step into the hall and walk a few feet away.
“So that’s what I was trying to tell you, Whitney,” Lance says, his face an excited glow. “You know how during the conference they announced that we’d be working with Dr. Davis’ patients?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it also turns out that we’ll be working with Harlow, his original success story.”
“If he’s a success story then why does he need our help?” I quickly interject.
“Oh my god, Whitney. What’s up with you? This is good news. For the practice, for service members, and for you and your career. You’ve been selected as the intern to work with Harlow.”
“Why me?” I ask, suspicious all over again. “I’m only an intern.”
“You’re a great intern,” says Lance. “Although I hope you don’t let it go to your head. And you know that the interns wo
rk with the patients first— with my supervision of course— and then they’re seen further up the chain as needed. That’s really not abnormal.”
“Hmmm.”
I shrug.
Lance is right, but something still seems off.
“Lance, I just think it’s strange. I’m glad Harlow’s made such a turn-around but I don’t want the other patients to have false hope. Not everyone has access to Dr. Davis’ breakthrough treatment and there’s only so much we can do with all of the patients. I’ve worked with Max for the past year and he’s barely made any progress. Yet as soon as he lays eyes on Harlow, it’s like he’s some new religious savior and everything’s going to be great or something.”
“Well, what’s so wrong with that?” Lance challenges. “We both know it’s good for patients to maintain a positive outlook. Maybe Dr. Davis can work with Max, and can help him improve.”
“He’s a facial reconstruction surgeon,” I say, finally being able to put words to one of the nagging thoughts that’s been bugging me. “What does he know about physical therapy?”
“I don’t know, but he definitely improved Harlow’s cognitive and physical functions in addition to his face,” Lance says decisively. “We saw it with our own eyes. Plus, he’s always talking about this new integrative system of treatment that apparently works. And now we have the opportunity to be part of that system. Part of the team. It’s a good thing, not a bad thing, Whitney.”
“Okay,” I say.
All of my concerns have been dismissed. And I really trust Lance. Maybe I’m the crazy one.
“And I’m sure I don’t have to point out,” Lance continues, leaning in close, “that the clinic is very happy to be working with Dr. Davis and Harlow. You certainly don’t want to stand in their way.”
“All right,” I agree, a chill running down my spine at the thought.
It’s true. I’m just an intern here with no power or control, and the evaluations I receive from Piñon will make or break my career.
I think back to how lucky I felt to get this internship. I don’t want to blow it by thinking I know more than everyone else.
“Let’s get back in there. I have a job to do.”
I begin walking resolutely to the therapy room.
“I know I also don’t have to point out how fine that man is,” Lance says, under his breath with a giggle. “If there’s one thing that can convince you to work with him, maybe you should just focus on his appearance.”
I stifle a laugh as I enter the room where Harlow is still talking to Max. My heart pounds in a mixture of excitement and disbelief at the thought of working up close and personal with the man I thought I’d only ever get to see from a distance on stage, and maybe after that in my dreams.
Chapter 16 – Harlow
“So, what’s wrong with my little brother?” asks Ramsey.
We’ve met up at Gecko’s after work. This bar is more my style— more of both of our styles than Jensen’s dive bar, actually— and I can always count on Ramsey for good advice.
“I’m just confused,” I confess.
I hate admitting it even to my oldest brother. I’m no pussy but I guess I can’t be a tough guy all the time.
“I really thought I was fit to fight, and Dr. Davis thinks so too, but the military is putting me through all this stupid bullshit. Making me jump hoops to prove I’m ready.”
“Like what?”
“I have to go to physical therapy like some old geezer. And to make matters worse, I have to impress some young intern there, so she’ll side with Dr. Davis and certify me for service.”
“She, huh?”
Ramsey’s eyebrows had been crinkled close together with concern but now he raises them up into two arches, as if he’s curious.
“Yeah, my physical therapist is a chick. A total newbie. Younger than me, I think. And she has some bug up her butt about me.”
Her cute butt, I think, but I don’t say that part.
“Oh yeah? What is there to not like about an arrogant player like you?”
He takes a swig of his drink and laughs, but I’m not in a joking mood. I also hope Whitney doesn’t see me in the same way Ramsey just characterized me. Although I never seemed to have any problem with the “arrogant player” label until I met her.
That’s just further proof that some screw in my head has come loose. I shouldn’t let her get to me like this.
“I just think it’s going to be an uphill battle to convince her I’m ready to go back to the field. She was the one at the conference last week who was grilling Dr. Davis about me, as if she didn’t believe that I’d come as far as I have…”
“That’s the physical therapy intern you’re working with?” Ramsey sputters, nearly spitting out his drink with his laughter. “I didn’t get a great look at her, unfortunately. But she looked hot. And she was feisty.”
“Yeah, exactly. She just has had it in for me from the start, for some reason. I think I should ask the facility to place me with a different physical therapist.”
“You think they’d do that?”
“Yeah I think so. I mean, they were jumping over themselves with excitement that I was even there. This one poor former Senior Airman with a prosthetic leg was saying how I’m everyone’s hope. I’m starting to think I might let them down…”
“Stop it. You’re very inspirational. I’m sure your story helps a lot of them stay motivated.”
“Well, anyway, I’m sure they’d listen to my request and I don’t see the harm in asking for a new PT.”
“I happen to think you’re up for the challenge of this pain-in-the-butt intern,” Ramsey says. “Why not prove her wrong? If she thinks you’re ready for service, then anyone would. And I know you can convince her. Because I know you are ready for service.”
“That’s true.”
Suddenly I feel a familiar hand on my shoulder and hear my brother Jensen’s voice from behind me.
“Oh brothers, why do you diss my dive bar in favor of this stuck-up bar?”
“Hey,” I say, turning to him. “You get off of work early?”
“I did,” he says, “and thought I’d head over here to see what you two pansies were up to before heading home to the old lady.”
“Already that serious, huh?” Ramsey asks, with a laugh.
“We never expected this from you of all people,” I chime in.
Jensen just smiles in a way that’s boastful but bashful at the same time. My brother is really in love. I never thought it possible.
“I guess there’s still hope for all of us,” Ramsey ruminates.
“Not me.”
I pound my fist defiantly on the bar after I say it, which the bartender believes is a sign signaling him to come over and get me another drink. I may as well go for it. I don’t want to be deluded with false hope of some happily ever after story.
Chapter 17 – Harlow
Jensen’s face is glowing like a pregnant woman’s. I’m happy for him since he’s happy with Riley.
But his sudden turnaround in the romance department has the tendency to dredge up bad memories of our parents, and all the reasons we all three have always said we didn’t want to be in a committed relationship. Even though we never had an official pact not to settle down with any chicks, it had been long discussed and decided on among us, and Jensen had to go and betray Ramsey and me.
“We all know you just like to hit it and quit it,” Ramsey says to me.
“And on that note…” Jensen muses, mysteriously.
I follow the direction of his stare until I see Blondie, or at least a woman who looks a lot like her.
“Is that the same girl from Louie’s the other night?”
“Yep.”
Jensen’s laugh is mischievous now.
“What in the…?”
What is he up to?
“She may be a friend of Riley’s who I had told to come to Louie’s, to celebrate your fine performance on the stage. You were too tired and mope
y then, so I thought you’d like to make up for lost time.”
I glare at him as Blondie sidles up to me and says, “Hey there, Gorgeous.”
I don’t know why Jensen thinks he needs to set me up. I could have had any girl at the conference that night. I probably could have even had uppity Whitney.
My guess is that he’s trying to tame me, so that I can have a ball and chain like he has Riley now. Hell, it’s even one of her friends. That figures.
But I look at Blondie again and can’t say I blame my brother for trying. He certainly chose well for me. Blondie has banging tits and pretty blue eyes under eyelashes so long they have to be fake.
“What are you drinking?” I ask.
“I’ll have some Sex on the Beach.”
She winks at me.
“Too bad we’re in the desert,” Ramsey laughs.
“What are you boys up to tonight?” she asks, inching even closer to my bar stool.
“Just hanging out and having fun,” Jensen says. “At least these single boys here are,” he quickly adds.
“Actually, I was just complaining to Ramsey about the state of my life,” I tell her.
Both Jensen and Ramsey shoot me what-the-fuck glares. Jensen’s is accusatory in nature while Ramsey’s is more curious.
“You’re in the wrong place for that,” she says. “You have your two brothers-slash-BFFs-here, and your favorite drink…”
“And the company of a beautiful woman,” Ramsey chimes in.
I would love to fuck Blondie but the fact that she’s Riley’s friend complicates matters. I don’t even know what Jensen was thinking.
He knows I don’t like to have to see my conquests around again. And I would hate to put any strain on his relationship with Riley by using and losing one of her friends, as I’m prone to do with any chick I bang.
But maybe these are all just excuses. At any other point in the past, I’d hook up with Blondie without giving it a second thought.
Maybe I’m still too distracted. I’m mad at myself for letting Whitney throw me off my game. One minute I don’t even want her to be my physical therapist and the next minute I’m looking at Blondie and comparing her to Whitney. And there’s no comparison. Not at all.
Four Billionaires for St. Patrick's Day Page 95
