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I cover my face with one hand and mutter, "Myslat."
"Your what?"
"My cock, ye daft woman." I spread both palms over my face, then drop them. But I still can't look at her. "I have—Bod an Donais. I told ye not to touch me there."
Finally, she glances at the offending body part. Her eyes go wide, though only for a second. "Oh. Sorry."
She pulls her hands away.
But it's too late.
Chapter Two
Kate
Callum is embarrassed. I get that, and I feel bad for putting him in this situation. But honestly, I've seen men with erections before. It doesn't bother me, though it clearly bothers him, and I need to figure out how to soothe his wounded pride. Men can be so sensitive about their dicks. But I never would've expected Callum to react that way, not after his grumpy behavior leading up to this little incident.
Not that his dick is little. Oh no, even before the erection issue, I could tell he has the kind of equipment every woman dreams of experiencing. I won't do that, though. No sex with clients. I don't like grumpy guys anyway, and I absolutely do not like bikers. At least Callum wears a helmet, but I will never get anywhere near his "equipment" or his motorcycle.
"I'm sorry," I tell Callum. "Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. But I've seen this reaction before when I start evaluating a man, so you have no reason to feel weird about it."
"No reason?" He scowls at me. "It's your fault.Coinbheineadhmyslatis not professional."
He told meslatmeans penis, but the other thing has me flummoxed. "What did you just say? Is that Gaelic?"
"Aye. And I said feeling up my cock is not professional."
"There was no feeling up of any part of you. I was doing my job."
He still looks annoyed, but at least he's not scowling anymore. "Fine. I'll let it go. But donnae be putting your fingers anywhere near—" He scrunches up his face. "You know where I mean."
I guess he can't even bring himself to say the wordslatanymore, much less erection or penis. But I have to ask, "You said a couple of other Gaelic things. What did they mean?"
He scratches the back of his neck, his head bowed. "Mhac na gallameans son of a bitch. Andbod an Donaismeans, ah…the devil's penis."
"I see."
"They're curse words."
"Uh-huh." I step back. "The physical evaluation is over. Let's move on to phase two."
"How many phases are there?"
"Three. We did the exam. Later, we'll start your physical therapy, but now it's time for the mental portion."
Callum groans and shakes his head. "Ahmno talking about my feelings with you."
"Who would you talk about that with?"
"No one." He pushes up into a sitting position. "Psychotherapy is rubbish."
"Do you tell your brother that? He's a psychologist, after all."
Callum rolls his eyes. "Jack is different."
"Because he's your brother." I want to point out the hypocrisy in that, but it would be unprofessional. Instead, I drop onto my stool and wheel it backward to give Callum some space. "Tell me about your relationship with your brother."
"It's fine."
