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Fifteen minutes later, he met Ian and Maggie in his office. She was still in the wheelchair and frowning up at Ian as he pushed her into the room.
“I really don’t think the wheelchair is necessary. I can walk. My hip is good. Nothing came up, did it?”
“The good news is that there are no signs of tissue tearing or fractures. The X-ray showed us where the old breaks were. It looks like it was a bad injury.”
“Yes. But I’m all good now. So, no more wheelchair?”
“I’d like you to take it easy for the next week. Rest when it hurts. And no carrying anything heavy or long walks for the next few days, at least.”
“You got it, Doc.” She saluted him.
Little brat.
“You’re going to take it easy, Little Misfit,” Ian told her firmly.
She huffed out a sigh but nodded.
“We’ve got the photo shoot rescheduled in three days’ time. Is that enough for her to rest?”
“Should be fine. As long as the swelling and pain have gone down.”
“Goody. That’s done. No more wheelchair or stupid tests.” Then she turned to Jameson. “You said there was going to be a treat?”
Something like unease filled him. Would she not want what he was offering? Was she expecting more?
“I thought I’d take you to the cafeteria for lunch. My treat.” Actually, now he thought about it, that sounded lame. “I mean . . . it sounds like it’s not very nice, but there are actually two chefs and a vast array?—”
“Does it have pizza?” she interrupted.
“Uh, it might.” He didn’t know. He’d never noticed.
“Doesn’t matter. It’s food and I’m fading away here.”
“Why didn’t you say you were hungry?” Ian asked. “This is because you barely ate breakfast. I packed snacks.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You tried to feed me oatmeal. Oatmeal! And the snacks you packed are fiber bars and apples.”
“What?” Ian said defensively. “There’s nothing wrong with those as snacks.”
“No, but pizza sounds way more interesting.”
“Hey! He’s the one who said we had to feed you better.” Ian pointed at Jameson.
“But this is a treat,” she said. “Bars that keep me regular are not treats. Now, let’s go. I can’t wait to get out of this place. No offense.”
“None taken,” Jameson said dryly, holding out his hands to help her up.
Ian hovered as they walked slowly to the lift. She grew tense as they got closer.
Fuck. A lift after she’d just been in the MRI machine seemed like too much to ask. Plus, she’d already had to take the elevator up here once today.
Suddenly, Ian moved around in front and picked her up, cradling her against his chest.
“Ian? What are you doing?” she asked.
“Carrying you.” He headed away from the lift.
“But why? I can walk. And where are we going?”
