Page 35 of Careless Hope

Caroline, if this is about improving our waltzing skills, I’m all in. I’ve been practicing my twirls.

Walker’s response sparkled with humor, and despite my resolve, a smile tugged at my lips.

Twirls, huh? I’ll believe it when I see it. Are you free around 6?

Anything for you. Meet at your place?

Perfect. See you then.

Looking forward to it, darlin’

As I pocketed my phone, I couldn’t help but feel a strange blend of relief and anticipation. The teasing exchange felt natural, easy even, which was odd considering how I usually clammed up around men like Walker—confident and effortlessly charming. I shook my head to clear away the rising warmth in my cheeks.

This wasn’t an actual date. It wasn’t a date at all, it was an . . . educational booty call. Oh God. I hadn’t had sex in years, and the very few times I’d had it had been less than pleasurable. I wanted it to be pleasurable for me, of course, but I was mostly concernedwith making a fool out of myself. I needed to learn how to have sex with a man without looking like a novice.

Learning how to please a man in bed was a rite of passage for women. One I had never earned. Better late than never, I supposed. And with a man like Walker on my side, I figured I’d soon gain at least a passable knowledge of it.

But how awkward will it be admitting I had no idea what to do in bed? This man was a Lothario. I’ll probably look like like a damn fool.

Crap. I needed to focus.

I looked around my office, hoping the sight of it would settle me back in work-mode. The afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting stripes of golden light across the linoleum floor. The faint hum of the air conditioning mingled with the muffled voices from the waiting room. My degrees hung proudly on the wall.

I’d just finished jotting down notes from my previous appointment when a soft knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts.

“Come in,” I called.

“Not tryin’ to rush ya, but I just put a new patient in room three,” Lisa said.

“I’ll be right there.”

I stood and pocketed my phone, putting thoughts of Walker out of my mind. Or at least as far back as they would go.

The door to room three was closed, so I took a moment to grab the chart from the holder on the wall and scan it before knocking.

Lily Michaels, female, twenty-six years old, complaining of wrist pain. Should be easy enough.

I knocked twice, then slowly opened the door to find the woman sitting on the exam table. Her hair, what couldonly be called mouse-brown, hung limp around her face and was due for a wash. Her eyes, brown, wide, and rimmed with the slightest pink, darted around the room before landing on me.

“Hi, Lily,” I said, offering her the kind of smile that usually puts people at ease. “I’m Dr. Cressley. What brings you in today?”

She sniffed, clutching her wrist close to her chest. “I, um, tripped and fell down the stairs,” she mumbled, her voice so soft it nearly got lost in the quiet of the room. “My wrist hurts. I don’t think it’s broken, but . . . I guess I wanted to make sure.”

“Let’s take a look.” I stepped toward the examination table, watching as she perched on the edge like a sparrow ready to take flight at the slightest disturbance.

“It’s your left wrist?” I asked. It seemed obvious from her stance, but one thing I’d learned was to never assume, always verify.

“Yes.” She extended her left arm, wincing even at the slight movement. The woman was obviously in pain, but I could tell it was more than that. She was nervous. I put on my most calming, empathetic armor.

“Okay, Lily. I’m going to be very gentle, but I need to feel around to see what might be wrong. Just tell me if it hurts too much, okay?” My fingers probed expertly along the bones and tendons, noting the swelling and heat radiating from her skin. Lily’s breath hitched but she didn’t stop me.

“Looks like a sprain,” I diagnosed, keeping my tone light. “I do recommend you going to get an X-ray to rule out a hairline fracture, but?—”

“No, I can’t,” she interrupted. “I mean, it’s expensive, I can’t afford it. It’s just a sprain.”

My physician Spidey Sense tingled at her immediate refusal, but I didn’t want to push it. I knew lots of people didn’t haveaccess to health insurance, and sometimes even with it, the cost of things could be overwhelming. But there was something in her voice . . .

I couldn’t force her to get an X-ray, only recommend it, which I’d done. And I didn’t want to alienate her in case she needed me in the future.

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