Page 106 of Smitten with the Single Dad

He hated being late.

Growing up with a father in the army, and then joining the marines himself, Wyatt knew the importance of being on time. Of the respect it showed for someone else’s time and how much better life ran when things went as scheduled.

So he may have gone a little faster than he should have as he drove Jagger’s truck across the island to Wolfe’s clinic.

“I’m here,” he exclaimed, slightly out of breath as he burst through the clinic doors and into the luscious air-conditioning. “Sorry.”

“Dr. Unger is about five minutes behind schedule,” Ramona, his receptionist, said from behind the desk. “You’re all good, Wyatt.”

Chuckling at his own stress, Wyatt exhaled a big sigh as he flopped down into one of the waiting room chairs.

Although the clinic was not part of the kooky labyrinth that made up the group of kiosks and small shops surrounding the Town Center Grocery Store, it was directly across the street from it. Wyatt found parking on the street, since finding parking near the grocery store was impossible, and even though there was a sign outside of Unger Wellness that said “Parking for Unger Wellness Patients Only” nobody listened to it. Particularly tourists.

It was more like a ten-minute wait before Wyatt was called to go sit in anappointment room, but in truth, he didn’t care. He liked Wolfe, and the guy did everything he could—including house calls—to help his patients.

“So, are we taking it easy and pivoting at the waist?” Wolfe asked as he lumbered into the appointment room, his laptop perched open on his enormous palm He closed the door and sat down in a rolling office chair, setting the computer down on a desk. It was a running joke on the island that Wolfe should have been named “Bear,” based on the sheer size and breadth of him. He was probably close to six foot six and at least two hundred and thirty pounds. The man was pure muscle, which bode well for his job as a chiropractor, and as a volunteer firefighter.

In truth, he was a giant, blue-eyed, blond, German teddy bear that everyone on the island adored.

Wyatt exhaled and nodded. “When I remember, yeah. I haven’t been back to work yet. I’m not standing for long periods of time, and I’m trying to remember to alternate between ice and heat. I’m also weaning off the pain meds.”

Wolfe nodded. “Okay, well, face down on the table. Let’s see if you’re lying. Because Shakira says her hips don’t lie, but I say the spine doesn’t lie. If you’ve been overdoing it, your back will tell me. Then I will call you a liar.”

Rolling his eyes and snorting, Wyatt did as he was told and got face down onto the chiropractor table. “You should know as well as anybody how hard it is for me to sit still. But I am doing my best.”

“I’m sure you are.” Wolfe’s tone was pure sarcasm as he prodded Wyatt’s neck and back with his strong, thick fingers. “Actually, you are not a liar. The swelling has gone down quite a bit. It would seem you are resting.”

“I told you.”

“I would book in for some acupuncture with Suvi sometime soon though. Next five days for sure. Then plan for some physio with Rolph. Massages help too.”

“You trying to drain my bank account and pad yours, Wolfe? Do I even have whiplash or an aggravated disc?”

Wolfe grunted. “This here is tight though.” He cranked up the table, pressed his hands in the middle of Wyatt’s lower back. “Deep breath in. Good. Now out.”

Clunk.

“Oof,” Wyatt said, feeling that intense crack as the middle section of the table under his belly sunk into the table the way it was supposed to.

Wolfe prodded the same spot. “Good.” Then he did it higher up, more between Wyatt’s shoulder blades. Wyatt definitely felt that crack. “I am going to leave your neck alone. You have much better mobility there now, but the muscles are still swollen. Continue with the ice and heat, and the moving at the hips rather than the neck. Come back in three or so days and we’ll see how the whiplash is doing.”

“No decompression table today?”

Wolfe shook his head. “I don’t think you need it.”

“Cool.” Wyatt sat up and extended his hand to Wolfe. “Thanks, Wolfe. I really appreciate it.”

Wolfe shook his hand. “I don’t always take payments in the form of consumables, but if one of these appointments you would like to pay me in beer, I would not be offended. I hear Clint has a very nice Hefeweizen this summer.”

Wyatt smirked. “Duly noted. I will be sure to arrive with beer next time.”

“I also enjoy Belgian-style Witbiers. His one with orange peel and coriander is very refreshing.”

Wyatt opened the door, his hand on the knob. “It’s my new favorite.”

“Ice and heat,” Wolfe reminded him as Wyatt went up to Ramona’s desk to book his next appointment and pay.

In no time, he was out of the clinic and running across the street to the grocery store. Even after Vica and his intense sex early that morning, speaking with Isaac, and getting his back cracked by Wolfe, anger continued to simmer in Wyatt just beneath the surface. His fists bunched and flexed at his sides as he wandered down the aisles of the store, filling his basket with various things.Before Vica left for the restaurant, he asked her to give him a grocery list of things she wanted in the kitchen at home, and the woman did not disappoint.

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