Page 39 of Rescued by the Single Dad

“Ariel okay?” Grayson chirped with a child-like curiosity blended with dry medical follow-up. He approached Clint, his smile wide and showing off his deep double dimples.

Clint nodded to the doctor. “Feet are still pretty beat up, but she put some healing balm on them and bandaged them up again. She’s achy from the hard swim.” He made sure nobody was around to hear him, but kept his voice low nevertheless.

“Is she awake?” Grayson asked, glancing toward the houses behind the trees.

Clint nodded.

“I’d like to come check on her if I can. Since she is my patient and all. Even if it’s off the books.”

Clint shrugged, then nodded his head. “After you, doc.”

Grayson gave another toothy smile, then the two of them headed up the hill and around the trees to the five houses in a row.

He opened the door to his house to find Brooke on his tablet, a deep frown on her face and an angry red color in her cheeks.

Uh oh.

“You look warmer than when I saw you yesterday,” Grayson said, walking into the living room and around the coffee table to perch on the edge of the couch next to Brooke. His big knee knocked hers where she had her legs crossed, and something hot and uncomfortable shot through Clint.

He carried the beer to the fridge and unloaded the basket, then made sure to join Grayson and Brooke back in the living room.

“I think I’ll live,” Brooke said with a sigh, setting the tablet down on the couch between her and Grayson. “No chills. Just achy muscles from the swim. And of course, my legs and feet.” She extended her legs out long in front of her to better show off all the bandages. “Clint’s been great helping me rebandage. And he’s carrying me, too. Which I’ve said on more than one occasion, he doesn’t have to.” She leaned sideways until her shoulder bumped Clint’s.

His belly fluttered.

Jesus Christ, how old was he, fourteen?

This was worse than junior high when he developed a crush on Jenny Williams who sat behind him in math class. Would he get a random boner at an inconvenient time, too? Wake up sticking to his bedsheets?

“Can I check your feet?” Grayson asked.

Even though he was doing his due diligence as a doctor, Clint knew when Grayson was flirting. And the man was absolutely flirting with Brooke right now. His smile was more charming, his eyes more ... glittery, or something. Clint wasn’t sure how you could make your eyes glitter more, but Grayson was doing something to make himself more appealing. And it pissed off Clint.

Brooke nodded, and Grayson carefully took her legs into his lap. His lips twisted in thought after he peeled away the bandages. “Best to keep off this foot for a day or two. I’m concerned about the cut here on the left foot beneath the big toe. It’s in danger of getting infected.”

Brooke’s eyes went wide in panic. “So ... what should I do?”

“Saltwater washes three times a day, and when it’s not in the saltwater, antibiotic ointment and bandages. But feet are difficult because we’re always applying pressure to them and the skin is very thick. So it can be tricky for them to heal properly.”

Brooke pouted, then swung her gaze at Clint.

Clint felt her chagrin. If the doctor told him he had to stay off his feet for two days, he’d lose his mind. She was probably already thinking about how bored and useless she was going to feel.

“Doctor’s orders,” Clint said.

“At least I’ll have Talia to keep me company,” she said with a sigh.

“Uh ... she’s still in school, so ...”

“Crap.” Brooke’s shoulders lifted, then fell dramatically.

“It may only need to be a day. Did you rest today?” Grayson asked.

Brooke’s gaze shifted sideways to Clint.

Clint snorted. “No, she did not. She roamed around the hillside with the kids.”

Grayson clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Yeah ... that’s not going to help you heal.”

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