Page 11 of Scorched

Declan stared at her, stoic.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Declan. Just show her your chest. It might help her decide what to do first so you can get out of here sooner,” she said, playing to his desire to go home.

“Fine,” he ground out. He yanked down the zipper and slid the sweatshirt down his arms.

The doctor rolled closer, her eyes on the bruising. “Boy, she wasn’t wrong. That’s quite colorful. Does it hurt to breathe?”

“Yes.”

“In general? Or just when you take a deep breath?”

“Mostly just deeper breaths.”

“That’s good. I don’t see any deformations, and I won’t go probing around to find any bumps or dips that shouldn’t be there, because that looks painful. An x-ray will tell us everything we need to know. Now, about your hip. Do you notice any clicking when you walk?”

“No. It just aches.”

“Any swelling?”

“Maybe some.”

“Bruising?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I think we’ll x-ray that too, just to be safe. After your films come back, we’ll go from there. Sound good?”

Declan nodded.

She rolled to the computer and entered information into his chart, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

“Someone from radiology should be down soon. We’ll talk in a bit.”

“Okay. Thanks, Doc.”

She exited the room, the curtain fluttering behind her as she pulled the door shut.

Maggie kept her eyes on her files and not Declan’s sculpted chest. He’d opted to leave the shirt off rather than shrug into it again. She couldn’t really blame him. He’d just have to take it off for the x-ray.

True to the doctor’s word, an x-ray tech showed up minutes later. Maggie stayed in her seat and continued to work while Declan left. He returned a short while later, still shirtless.

She did her best not to stare. The man was too sexy for his own good. She knew he wasn’t trying to be—especially right now—but he still was. With his wavy reddish-brown hair, deep blue eyes, and chiseled body, he embodied the type of man that went on a firefighter calendar.

“How are you not cold? I would freeze, walking around without a shirt.”

He flashed her a grin. “I’d like to see that.”

Maggie’s cheeks flamed as she realized what she said. “I didn’t mean it that way. And I thought I wasn’t your type.”

He sat down on the bed, letting out a little moan as he settled. “I never said you weren’t my type.”

“Not in as many words, but you made it clear what you thought of the idea.”

“It’s not because I don’t find you beautiful.”

His words produced a warmth in her chest, but it was tempered by the fact that something about her he found irritating.

“What is it, then, that you find so abhorrent?”

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