Page 12 of Rushing Into Love

“It’s Bree Hart, but I don’t technically have an appointment,” I said, as she clicked-clicked-clicked away at her keyboard.

She paused mid-click, narrowing her eyes. “We don’t take walk-ins,” she informed me, in a tone meant to brook no argument.

“It’s okay, Shelly, I have her down.” Ryder strode up to the desk, looking even hotter than I’d remembered. He grabbed a clipboard off a metal rack.

“Oh, okay.” Shelly’s cheeks flushed pink as she handed Ryder a stack of paperwork.

“C’mon this way,” he nodded at me, taking me gently by the elbow and leading me down the hallway. “The PT area is right through here.” We walked a few more feet and then turned to the right, into a fluorescently bright gym space. Several exam tables lined the back wall and various pieces of exercise equipment were scattered around the room. An elderly woman rode a recumbent bike, another did arm exercises with a stretchy band. A man grunted on a back table in the corner, as he attempted to straighten his knee.

“Let’s go over here,” Ryder pointed to the far-left corner of the room, which was unoccupied. “It’s all yours.” He motioned at the black vinyl table. I turned around and lifted myself onto the table, legs dangling off the side.

“Do you want me sitting up or lying down?” I asked, blushing as soon as the words were out of my mouth.Seriously? Great choice of wording.

“Lying down would probably be more comfortable for you,” he said, dropping a white pillow onto the table.

I swung my legs gingerly onto the table and laid down, shifting a little on the pillow to get comfortable.God, this was awkward.An unbidden zing of nerves shot through my body.Stop it!I chided myself.He asked you to come in strictly as a nicety.

“So, how’s the knee feeling today?” Ryder sat down on a rolling stool and scooted up parallel to the table. He was so close, I caught the woodsy scent of his cologne, mixed with a hint of spearmint.

I met his gaze, his marine eyes locking onto mine. “Uh, it’s okay. Not as good as it was yesterday—before I got tackled,” I joked.

He chuckled, revealing his dimples. “No, I’m sure not. Let me check your flexion.” He moved down the table, closer to my knee, taking my leg and lifting it gently into the air. “Okay, bend,” he instructed. I did as he asked, trying not to wince.

“Does that hurt?” he asked.

“Yes, kind of. It’s stiff.”

“How about this?” He straightened my knee, holding most of the weight of my leg in his strong hands.

“That’s better.”

“Relax your leg now, that’s it,” he said, encouraging me as I allowed my muscles to go limp in his firm grasp. “Now release your leg, let it fall towards me.” I relaxed my muscles, allowing Ryder to support my leg fully in his hands. “Good. I don’t think you have a tear, but I see it’s swollen.” He ran his index finger lightly down the side of my kneecap and I shivered under his touch.

“Are you cold? Sometimes you get a draft on the table,” he said.

“Uh, no, I’m okay,” I stammered, willing myself not to squirm under his gaze.

“I’m going to wrap your knee up for you. Ice it as much as you can today and tonight. I’ll give you a few stretches and strengthening exercises to do at home. If you need help with them, give me a call or stop back in. I’d be happy to walk you through them. I think you should take it easy for now, though, and let the swelling go down.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

“Let me go grab that wrap.” He walked away, to some back supply room, I guessed.

I lay flat on the table and let my body relax. Apparently, I’d been in a state of high alert with Ryder so close to me. My leg was freezing cold where his warm hands had been a few seconds ago. The man had a very direct effect on my central nervous system, that was for sure.

“Alright, here we go.” Ryder was back, holding a nude-colored bandage.

I lifted myself up on my elbows, watching as he quickly and efficiently wound the stretchy fabric around my knee. I couldn’t help but notice his tanned biceps, straining the sleeves of his polo shirt. Even though he was a retired football player, he was still in fine shape—emphasis on the word “fine.”

“Okay, that should do it.” Ryder secured the bandage. “How does that feel? Is it too tight?” he asked, his brow knitted with concern.

“No, I don’t think so.” I sat all the way up and moved my knee around, bending and straightening it, just to be sure. “It feels a lot better, thanks.” I smiled shyly at him.

“No problem,” he said, smiling back. “I’m sorry you got injured at practice. Hopefully it will feel better in the next day or two. If not, just check back. Here are a few exercises to try at home,” he handed me a print-out demonstrating several knee mobility moves, “and here’s my card with my extension. Call me anytime.”

I slid off the table, standing unsteadily. He stepped toward me, gripping my hips to help me gain my balance. His touch sent another thrill through my body; I’d swear the man had electricity coursing through his veins. I gazed up at him, my breath hitching in my throat.

“So, are you just visiting Peachtree Grove then?” he asked. Noting I was steady now, he dropped his grip on my hips, took a step back.

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