Page 38 of Under His Guard

It’s not like I can risk checking for myself, so I just focus on what I do best—assessing wounds and helping patients.

Which Luke still is, remember?

“Let’s take another look, okay?” I nod down at his bandages.

“Sure thing, doc.” His deft fingers go for the tape. “At least I didn’t bother with a shirt this time.”

I force a laugh, helping him as best I can to unwrap the bandage just enough to check if the wound is seeping or if there’s anything else I need to be concerned with.

“All right. It looks good.”

We wind him back up again, our fingers brushing as we deal with the loose wrappings, and my heart rate ticks up.

Again.

“Okay, so we’re going to go through some basic range of motion activities. You need to be honest with me about what’s pulling or hurting or doesn’t feel right. It does you no good to act tough, got it?”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

He fake salutes me, and I roll my eyes.

“Okay, lift your arms out straight in front of you to shoulder level.” He does, keeping up that easy smile. “All right, now slowly raise them higher and let me know where you feel something.”

Luke gets pretty far, and it’s not until the very apex of the raise that he stops and offers a nod.

“About there.”

I actually smile back at him, happy about the progress. “Hey, that’s great.”

With a playful eye roll, Luke sticks his lips out in a mock pout.

“Yeah, I’m not too shabby, huh, doc?”

“All right.” I narrow my gaze at him. “Let’s try sideways movement.”

I take his wrist, keeping his arms at shoulder level.

“Stay here in terms of height, but try to twist from your middle.”

Luke starts to move, and I notice he’s moving from his upper back, not his midsection.

“No, here.” My hands go to his waist, holding him where the bandage wraps around him. “Twist from here, not your shoulders.”

Heat crawls through my cheeks, burning there like a furnace when Luke glances down at me with his arms up and my hands still on him.

Our eyes connect and hold, locking onto each other as Luke decidedly does not twist. He’s just staring down at me as I look up into those deep eyes.

“Um, Luke, can you…” I finally break eye contact and gesture at his midsection with my head. “You know, twist.”

“Right.” He swallows hard and then does as asked, rotating his body.

When he turns, angling toward the side that matches his injury, he seems all right. But then Luke goes the other direction, and he stops short.

“Oh, okay. So what’s that feeling like? Muscle immobility or just the stitches?”

Luke laughs a bit, lowering his arms and I step away, dragging my hands from his sides and trying to ignore how I wanted to leave them there.

“How am I supposed to tell?”

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