Page 13 of Property of my Boss

Truth be told, it is. I touched myself last night during my break. It was inappropriate, but I convinced myself that rubbing one out would shut down the thoughts that’ve been taking over my brain. Turns out, I was wrong.

Thankfully, the hiker laying on the ground comes into view before I get a chance to respond to Tucker’s question, and I’m jumping out of the truck immediately, even if it isn’t fully parked yet.

“What are you doing?” he sighs as though he’s displeased with my dismount, but I ignore him and keep my eye on the patient. He’s a bald man in his early fifties wearing jeans and a T-shirt, ink streaking up and down both arms, no wedding ring, no medical alert bracelet, no obvious bruising.

Focus, Tilly. Focus on the patient.

I repeat the mantra in my head half a dozen times, though all I want to do is jump back in the truck and ride out into the field somewhere to let Tucker finish the punishment he started back at the office.

I’m sick. I’m sick and I need help. My best friend is missing and I’m drooling and fantasizing about the man who last saw her alive. I’m pretty sure there’s an extra special therapist for girls like me.

“Hey,” I say, raising my voice at least three octaves, “I’m Tilly, a nurse.” I bend down next to the massive man who’s sprawled out on the ground and blocking the width of the pine swept path. “I’m going to take a look at you, feel around for any pain. Is that okay?”

“Sure is,” the man grins. “It’s been a long while since a woman as pretty as you has touched me. I’ll enjoy every second. For your sake, though, I hope they’re paying you well.”

“How about you shut the fuck up?” Tucker barks, casting a shadow over the scene. “She’s here to help.”

I drag in a deep breath of pine and let it out slowly, forcing my brain to go somewhere other than the way it felt to be bent over in front of Tucker’s giant frame.

“I’m sorry,” I say to the man in need of medical attention, “I didn’t catch your name.”

The man smiles as I begin to palpate his shoulders for pain. “Nick, and I’m sorry if my compliment was out of line. I didn’t mean to upset your boyfriend.”

“Oh, that’s not my boyfriend,” I say with a sneer. “That’s my boss, and I like being called pretty. So… thank you.”

I squint up at Tucker as I respond, watching the line in his jaw tick as I speak.

Why do I love this so much?

“Can you tell me how this happened?” I ask, redirecting my focus toward Nick as I feel the rest of his body for any points of pain.

He clears his throat before saying, “Well, it’s embarrassing, but that root back there took me down. Guess I’m not as good on my feet as I used to be.” A low laugh emanates. “I’m getting old.”

“Happens to all of us,” I say, studying his body for any cuts or bruises. “Does it hurt anywhere I’m touching?”

“No. I could probably hobble up and drag myself out of here, but this big guy insisted we call for help.” He nods toward Atlas as he talks.

“Well, that’s a smart move. You could injure your leg much worse if you’re not careful. Which side is it that’s hurting?”

He gestures toward the left, and though his jeans are a little scuffed where he fell, I don’t see any tearing of the denim, which is good, though I will need to cut them to see how intact the skin is beneath the fabric.

Tucker seems to read my mind as I’m working and leans down, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he grips hold of the hem of the man’s jeans and slices up the denim with the leather handled pocketknife I notice hasn’t left his side since we met.

It’s a simple gesture, but my chest tightens, and I’m warm in places that haven’t been warm in years. It’s not that big a deal. He just made a cut in some denim, yet for some reason, right here and now, it’s the biggest deal. He anticipated my needs like he’s paying attention.

“Okay,” I exhale slowly, forcing my attention back to the patient, always keeping one hand on his body for comfort. It’s something my first-year nursing teacher taught me, and it stuck. She said one hand supports while the other works. In practice, the theory doesn’t always function, but the message is clear. Touch is just as important to healing as the mechanics.

My hand is on Nick’s shoulder as I meet his dark gaze. “I’m going to take a look at your leg now. Please let me know if anything is painful, even a little bit.” I grin. “No tough guy act, okay? I need to know how you’re really feeling before we try and move you.”

“You got it, nurse.” He grins widely. “No tough guy act.”

On immediate inspection, there’s no swelling and I don’t see any bruising, which is positive, though it doesn’t mean the leg isn’t broken. It probably means we’re dealing with a minor injury.

“From what I can see here,” I say, palpating around the knee, “we should be able to get you up into the truck and back up to the front desk. Are you camping out here this weekend? Can we notify anyone to keep you company or come help?”

“Oh, no. Well, yes. I am camping, but I’m camping alone. I figured I’d try out this trail. Everyone was talking about how gorgeous the colors on the leaves were and how much water was coming over the falls.” He sighs. “That was a good idea, wasn’t it? Then again,” he says, gripping hold of Atlas’ arm to stand, “if I hadn’t fallen, I wouldn’t have met you, and you… are the sweetest nurse they have at that hospital. I guarantee it.”

“Okay.” Tucker groans under his breath as though he’s annoyed as he grips the man’s opposite arm. “Let’s get you back to the camp office. I’m sure the ambulance will be here soon.”