Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 157672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 788(@200wpm)___ 631(@250wpm)___ 526(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 788(@200wpm)___ 631(@250wpm)___ 526(@300wpm)
“Fuck me.”
“Sorry, you really tweaked it. What was your initial injury?”
“Dislocated it.”
“Hmmm,” she hums, continuing to prompt. “That’s painful.”
“I survived.”
“Dislocated shoulder must have put you out of commission for a while at work.”
“You could say that.” As well as a punctured lung and a list of other injuries. I don’t mention these, knowing the motherfucker responsible and the details are mostly classified. Bringing down a domestic smuggling operation made the news. Our involvement was a special assignment.
We were the silent operatives working with a specialized group.
Until someone came after Rowan.
Then it became a different sort of mission.
“Mr. Simms, breathe through it.”
I break out of my thoughts, realizing Willow is now resting her fingers against my pulse point with a troubled expression. “Your heart rate is elevated. Breathe through the pain.”
I should correct her, but that could lead to questions. Instead, I say, “Call me Talon.”
She studies me, her concern fading. “Talon, think you’re up to some exercises?”
The coaxing in her voice reminds me of my mom when I was a boy. “You have me for the hour.”
“We don’t want to overdo it.”
My pride gets the best of me, not willing to let this woman think I’m a pussy. “Babe, that wasn’t pain that sent my pulse racing. Pretty sure it was the fact your hands are roaming all over me. A little more and there’d be a whole different reaction.”
Her skin flames again. “Mr. Simms—”
“Talon.”
“Talon, this is my job. And well…”
“Well, what?”
“I just… this is my job.”
“Heard that the first time.” I can’t stop my grin.
“What happened to scouts honor?”
“Keeping it real, babe. Get used to it.”
“For some reason, I highly doubt you talked like this to Dr. Koch.”
“Dr. Koch isn’t a gorgeous woman who I happen to know tastes like peaches and kisses like she was made for me.”
I’m pushing hard, but fuck if I don’t enjoy seeing her flustered.
There’s a flicker of heat in her gaze before it switches to a mix of disbelief and irritation. Without responding, she walks away, coming back a minute later rolling a cart with weights and kettlebells. It’s been a long time since I worked with free weights. In the last few months with Dr. Koch, we skipped the basics on my insistence.
“We doing the kiddie exercises today?”
She purses her lips. “Standard initial discovery. New injury, new protocol.”
“I can respect that, but I can handle much more.”
“Humor me, tough guy.”
I resist the urge to argue that this is a waste of time. For the next forty-five minutes, she guides me through exercises, constantly measuring my range of motion. With each rep, she increases the weights.
Before the incident in December, I could bench press over two-hundred-and-fifty pounds without a thought. But fuck if I’m not feeling this as sweat trickles down my neck.
“That’s enough for today.” She eases my elbow down from the extension.
I bite the inside of my cheek at the throbbing in my shoulder. Her lips curl at the slight twitch in my arm.
“Something amusing?”
“Hmmm.”
“You enjoying this?”
“Kiddie exercises kicked your butt.”
“Take a lot more than that.”
“I’ll remember that.”
She bends to load the cart and my eyes zone in on her ass. “Eyes off my ass, Mr. Simms.”
“Just making sure you didn’t need help with the cart.”
“You able to control your reaction if I assess the muscles before you leave?” She points to my shoulder. “Or should I ask Lucas to come back?”
“Want me to take my shirt off to help you out?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
She eases her hand under the collar of my shirt. I close my eyes, enjoying the softness of her hand gently massaging. The ache eases with each rotation.
“You’ve got a way with your hands. Can’t say Koch ever did this.”
“Different techniques.”
“I can get used to this.”
There’s a beat of silence before she speaks low. “It was the vodka. I was drinking peach-infused vodka.”
“Drink of choice?”
“On occasion. Not many bars carry it. I was surprised Tom’s had it.”
“Why? Because it’s a blue bar?”
“Didn’t know it was a blue bar before we went in. My friend Bex picked the place.”
“The pretty blonde?”
Her pressure increases on my joint. “That’s her. She’s single.”
“Any reason you’re letting me know that?”
“You obviously noticed she’s pretty. Most men would want to know she’s single.”
“I’m not most men. Plus, I’m partial to brunettes.”
“Does that line work?”
“Go out with me tonight and I’ll tell you.”
“You’re a natural flirt.”
“All part of my charm.”
“Your charm is wasted here.”
“Because you don’t date cops?”
“Something like that.”
“Maybe I can change your mind.”
“Doubtful. And now you’re my patient. Your efforts are useless.”
“Oh, firefly, you have issued a challenge.”
She veers off the area and freezes when her fingers come into contact with the scarred skin covering my pec.
My body tenses and she yanks her hand out of my shirt. Her coloring has paled and eyes clouded over.
“How did you say you injured yourself?”
“Occupational mishap.”