Page 4 of Temptation and Tyranny

I entered the gym and held open the door for him as he clambered into the room. I was surprised he was still limping; I’d had patients with similar issues—broken legs from car accidents—heal much more quickly. However, they followed all my advice and adhered to my treatment plan, unlike my current patient.

Cooper sat on the chair nearest the treadmill, and instead of standing over him, I pulled up a chair and sat. He looked surprised, his brown eyes meeting mine.

“Here’s the deal, Mr. Moreau,” I started, foldingmy arms firmly across my chest. “I—”

“Cooper,” he interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

“Fine, Cooper,” I responded, “I—”

“Can we get started?” He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. “I have places to be.”

“That’s just it, Mr. Moreau—”

“Cooper,” he corrected again, a slight smile playing on his lips.

“Unless you start listening to me and adhering to your treatment plan, you’re never going to get the range of motion and strength you had previously.” The words tumbled from my mouth; I was a bit nervous now that the words had to be spoken aloud. My speech had sounded much better in my own head.

His eyebrows narrowed, and the smile disappeared from his lips. “I am working hard, I work out every single night—”

“That’s not it, you need to be doing the right type of exercises. I can tell you’re in amazing physical shape, but it’s important to—”

“You think I’m physically fit, huh?” His grin returned, and I felt my face redden.

“That’s not what I meant—”

He leaned back, his legs spread apart and his hands going back behind his head. He always wore athletic clothing to his appointments, sweatpants and tight tee-shirts, brand new tennis shoes. His biceps bulged and his pectoral muscles tested the limitations of the cotton in his shirt. “So, you don’t think I’m fit?”

“We’re getting off topic here...”

“Maybe I like the way this conversation is going.” He lifted his head, and I could see his amusement over my frustration. It irritated me even more and made meblush harder. I knew he was flirting with me to make me more flustered, and I was angry that it was working.

“You need to be properly motivated. There has to be something that you care about, something that you miss—”

“Yes.”

His instant admission stopped my rambling. For a split second, his haughty and cocky demeanor dropped, and I could see the wounded individual underneath the hard exterior.

“What is it?”

He lowered his voice, almost bashfully. “I miss riding my motorcycle.”

It wasn’t what I expected him to say, but it was the perfect motivation.

“Then let’s get you there, Cooper. I promise, if you just listen to me, I’ll have you riding your bike within the next month.”

He looked at me, his tan skin an odd contrast with his blonde hair. He extended his hand, and I felt a jolt of warmth move through my body when I took it.

“You’ve got a deal.”

A wave of dread washed over me when my ex-boyfriend’s voice came over the intercom, desperate and pleading.

“Tomas, I don’t know what you think you’re going to do, but I certainly won’t let you in.”

“Come on, baby. I’m sorry, you know I didn’t mean it—”

“Oh really? I don’t want the same things you want, so you try and force me? I should call the police!”

I heard an angry thud, and then rustling. He’d kicked something. Probably the trash can next to the building’s entrance. “Fine. But you’ll miss me, baby. You’ll want me again.”

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