Page 53 of Still The One

‘You need a nursing award,’ he says. ‘The fact that I need a pill organizer makes me feel a tad elderly.’

‘Considering you’re nearly scientifically middle-aged, I’m not surprised. Did you know that the average death rate in America is in your seventies?’

He bellows a laugh. ‘Mid-thirties are now middle-aged?’

‘Double thirty-five, and you’ve got seventy. You think with your career, you’ll live past that?’

‘Yes,’ he insists. ‘I’m not even the oldest in the industry, Evie. Jeff’s in his forties.’

One by one I separate his bottles of pills into the organizers while we talk.

‘I’ve watched Jeff slam energy drinks like a chain-smoker, before and after performances, so I won’t be surprised when his heart explodes on the track at age forty-five,’ I remind him.

‘He is playing a dangerous game,’ Foster remarks, shaking his head as if he doesn’t do the same thing. It’s hard not to, considering Red Bull and Monster are some of the biggest advertisers of the sport.

‘I’m going to focus more on not dying sooner than average. No more accidents, and I definitely gotta quit the energy drink slamming.’

I laugh. ‘I’ll cross my fingers for you. Now let’s take a look at that arm.’

Once I get the sling off, his shirt delicately peeled over his head and the bandages removed, I have to grab us both water. He’s sweating, and I’m just remembering how incredibly beautiful he is shirtless. I have to force myself not to kiss his glistening chest because my mind was telling me to go there.

I force him into the shower, insisting he keep the shower chair in with him, mostly because my knees were weak at the sight of him partly unclothed and maybe his are too? That’s stupid. I divert my eyes as he walks out of the bathroom, ina pair of lovely black and white checked yoga pants that really accentuate his ass, much to my demise.

‘How’s it look, doc?’ he asks once he’s back on my bed.

I down half a bottle of water while unintentionally staring at him. My eyes just won’t look away!

Do not jump his bones, Eve. He’s injured. What if you hurt him worse by crawling on top of him to seduce the guy?

‘Evie?’

‘Yeah?’ I ask between sips, then remember he asked how it looks. ‘Looks really, really good.’

He laughs under his breath. ‘You’re daydreaming about that sponge bath I asked about right now, aren’t you?’

‘No…’ I lie. ‘I’m thinking my shower will be cold later because I’m having a hot flash.’

He lifts a single eyebrow. ‘Menopausal in your late twenties is rough.’

I groan, pretending it’s completely plausible – which medically, it is. But there is no getting away from the fact that I’m overheating from my panties up.

‘Fine, I’ll admit it, there’s no denial on my part that you’re handsome and things. Obviously I’m attracted to you, I married you.’

‘True,’ he says. ‘But “handsome and things”? What kind of “things”?’

I bite my lip, holding back a growing smile.Don’t answer that question.

‘No flirting, mister,’ I say, grabbing the bin full of medical supplies the hospital sent home with us from the top of my dresser, and sitting at his side near his injured arm. ‘Not within the apartment walls.’

‘Fine,’ he says, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as I clean the surgical sites and rebandage him. With him not looking, my gaze can go anywhere it wants and it pauses on histattoos. His skin is sun-kissed, and soft enough to lick.No, Eve. Do not lick him.

‘It’s healing great,’ I say, hoping words will distract my screaming libido.

‘Good,’ he says, glancing down at the freshly bandaged shoulder and wrist. ‘You think maybe I could sleep without the straightjacket tonight? It’s so uncomfortable.’

‘Will you promise me you won’t sleep wild like a tornado?’ I ask, standing and placing the medical supplies back in their place.

‘Sure, but I’m not sure my subconscious will pull through.’

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