Running Game(12)

And I knew, after my brief visit with him earlier, that Jesse wasn’t going to make it easy on me.

I walked back to his room, determined to keep my guard up, no matter how much he tried to penetrate it.

I knew how he worked. He’d worked his charms on me once before, but I wasn’t going to let it happen again.

I nodded to the big guy he’d called Grady who was still standing outside of his door like a pit-bull on guard duty and knocked quietly on Jesse’s door and walked in. He was standing by the window leaning on his crutches with his back to me, looking out the window.

The hospital gown opened in the back, giving me a perfect view of his bare ass.

“Oh!” I said, turning around quickly and covering my eyes. “You should have left your underwear on! I’m sorry, I guess I should have said that.”

“I don’t wear underwear,” he said, “unless I’m on the field.”

“Please turn around,” I asked, shaking my head as I stared at the wall and feeling a wave of heat rise to my cheeks.

“Already did,” he replied.

Slowly, I looked over my shoulder, just to make sure he wasn’t lying. He’d sat down on the treatment table, his long bare legs hanging over the side.

“Okay,” I said, turning to face him. “Next time, you should wear comfortable clothes, work out clothes, or something you can move around in, and um…underwear.”

“I came here straight from the hospital,” he shrugged, flashing those blue eyes at me. It was so hard to look right into them.

They were so blue, so familiar. Too familiar.

“Okay, so today I’m going to do an exam and we’ll go over your treatment plan,” I said, getting right to business and picking up the clipboard I’d left lying on the counter earlier. I buried my nose in it and kept going, full steam ahead. The faster I finished this, the faster I could get out of here. “I’ll have some questions for you. Let me know if you have any for me.”

“I already did,” he said, a crooked smile spreading across his handsome face. He was so much more handsome than I remembered. And even better looking than he was on television. He’d filled out, turned into a man. He wasn’t that same cocky lanky teen that he’d been back then. Now, he was a cocky, ripped, muscled masterpiece.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“I asked you a question. I asked if you were married. You didn’t answer. I don’t see a ring, so I’m guessing not.”

“Oh!” I replied. “Right. No, not married.”

“A girl like you? I can’t believe you’re single.”

“So,” I said, completely ignoring his comment. “You were hit by a car going how fast?”

“I was told the asshole was going about 35 miles per hour around the corner.”

“And the impact was completely on your left side?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Boyfriend?”

“What?” I asked, looking up from my clipboard.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he said. His hair fell over his forehead and I couldn’t help but stare at it, wonder how soft it would be if I reached out to touch it.

“Mr. Collins, I —,” I began.

“—Jesse! Come on, Maisey, you act like we barely know each other!”

“Jesse. I’m not here to answer personal questions. I meant, you can ask me anything about the treatment plan, or the services we provide here. I’m not at liberty to discuss my personal life.”

“At liberty? God, Maisey, when did you become so uptight?” he asked.

“I’m not uptight!” I demanded.

“Sure, whatever,” he replied. “So you aren’t going to tell me if you have a boyfriend? Maybe you have a girlfriend?” he winked.

“No!” I replied, doing my damnedest not get flustered. “I don’t think those questions are appropriate.”

“Okay, I get it, you’re at work. You’re obviously very driven. You don’t want to fuck up your good job, I get it. I can respect that. How about we get a drink later tonight? Catch up on old times?” he flashed that grin at me again and I averted my eyes as fast as I could. If I didn’t see it, I couldn’t be affected by it, right? Wrong. My knees were quivering at this point and my hands were shaking even more than they had been in Larry’s office earlier.

“No, that won’t be - no, thank you, Jesse.” I shook my head vigorously.

“Wow, you’re a tough sell, aren’t you?” he murmured.

“Back to you,” I said, my voice annoyingly high-pitched and squeaky. I cleared my throat and started again, flipping through his chart so I could keep avoiding those eyes. “Your injuries are listed here. Torn ACL in the left knee, severe contusion of the upper thigh, hip and lower back, and - um - and —,” I stuttered, blinking at the words in front of me. This couldn’t be right.