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My brother has tricked me into psychotherapy, that's the situation. And he paid in advance to make sure I'd have no choice but to stay. At least I can go home to my cousin Evan's luxury apartment after my thrice weekly torture sessions. Having a billionaire for a cousin has its benefits.
"Come with me," Kate says, turning toward the doorway she'd come through a moment ago. "We'll start with your body, then move on to your mind."
I might like that if I didn't know she means to rummage around in my head after tormenting every muscle in my body.
Kate leads me through the door and down a hallway that has more doors on both sides. Most of them are closed. The therapists here wouldn't want anyone to see them strapping their patients on the rack while asking how it makes them feel.
At the end of the hall, we stop beside the only open door.
She waves for me to go inside the room. "Welcome to your home away from home for the next four weeks."
I limp into the small room, which has a padded bench in the middle of it and a wheeled stool nearby. Cabinets line the wall at floor level and up higher too. She must store her torture devices in there.
Kate shuts the door.
When I stop halfway into the room, she walks past me to pat the bench. "Have a seat, and we'll get started. You can hang your jacket on the hook over there."
She points toward the coat rack in the corner.
I dutifully remove my jacket and hang it on the hook. Then I rest my erse on the bench, wincing a wee bit when I bend my knee.
Kate settles her bonnie erse on the stool and rolls it closer to me. She's sitting an arm's length away, and thanks to the fact her stool is shorter than my bench, I can see down the front of her T-shirt, giving me a glimpse of her breasts. But the shirt isn't low-cut enough to reveal much.
"Let's get started," Kate says. "Tell me how you injured your knee."
"I was building a cabinet when I dropped my hammer and had to bend down to get it. My foot slipped, and my knee got wrenched."
"Start at the beginning, Callum. How many times have you injured your knee?"
"Three. The first time was nine months ago."
"I see." She folds her arms over her chest and tips her head to the side while she studies me. "You were a firefighter, right? Before you became a carpenter."
"Aye."
"Why did you quit?"
I huff. "Because I injured my bloody knee. A firefighter needs to be agile."
"Can't be just your knee. There's something else going on under the surface, and together, we're going to dig down to the root cause."
"Sounds like fun." Aye, my tone implies the opposite. I donnae want therapy of any kind, but Jack has ensured I have to go through with this.
"Therapy isn't supposed to be a party. This will hurt, and you'll probably want to swear at me often. But if you do what I say, I guarantee you'll feel better when we're done."
"Never heard of a therapist guaranteeing results. Are you sure you're licensed for this?"
She shakes her head. "That won't work. I've dealt with men who are much more pigheaded than you."
"I am not pigheaded. Donnae want to spill my ruddy guts to a stranger, that's all."
Kate is still eying me with her head tipped to the side, but now she's squinting too. "Jack led me to believe you're a cheerful, laid-back guy. But you're grumpy and uncooperative."
"Ye met me two minutes ago. Isn't it unprofessional to make snap judgments?"
Her sexy mouth curls into a smug smile. "You just proved my point. Grumpy, uncooperative,andargumentative."
I groan and rub my eyes. "Can we get on with the physical therapy?"
