Page 40 of Boyfriend of the Hour
“Joni!”
Nathan’s deep voice thundered over the bass. Seconds later, he was there, hopping up onto the platform, lifting me into his arms, and cradling me against his chest.
It was even warmer and more solid than I could have possibly imagined.
“Honey, goddammit. Are you all right?”
Tom appeared below us, worry crinkling his brow. Behind him, some of the bar patrons were pointing and laughing, even though they hadn’t stopped dancing.
“I—oh my God, it hurts!” I pulled my knee to my chest.
“She needs ice and elevation,” Nathan told him. “Where can I bring her?”
“Back into my office. Second door off the bathrooms. I’ll send someone back with a bag of ice.”
Nathan carried me easily down the steps and into Tom’s office, where he set me on the worn sofa in the corner. We were soon followed by Tom, who handed Nathan a bag of ice.
“I have her,” Nathan said as he removed his coat and laid it over the back of the couch.
Tom looked him up and down, observing his scrubs. “Doctor, huh?”
“Surgeon.”
Tom looked at me as he tugged on his mustache. “You good with this, honey? I gotta?—”
“Get back to the bar,” I finished for him. “I’m fine. Go.”
With another glance Nathan’s way, Tom walked back up to close the door to the platform, then left the office. As the door shut behind him, it muted the music out front, enclosing Nathan and me in quiet for the first time since he’d walked in.
“Hold this on it.” Nathan positioned a pillow under my knee, then placed the ice on top of it. He frowned. “I should probably take you to the hospital.”
“Absolutely fucking not,” I said quickly, despite the fact that pain was tightening my voice. “I mean, no, thank you. It’s the same injury; I just shouldn’t have danced. It will be fine tomorrow. Good enough to stand on, anyway.”
Nathan did not look convinced.
I rolled my eyes. “Do you have any idea how expensive a trip to the ER is? Why should I do that when I have a doctor here for free?”
“Joni, I’m a plastic surgeon, not an orthopedist.”
“Yes, I am aware of that, Dr. Hunt,” I replied. “It was a joke. But seriously, I’m fine. I’ll befine.”
I would be, too. The pain was already receding, and while, sure, I’d probably have a bit of swelling for a day or two, I’d be back on my feet in time to serve drinks and look pretty by Tuesday.
Just no more pirouettes.
Probably never again.
The idea was like a hand flattening me to the earth. Just like always.
“You said one thing.”
I blinked as Nathan’s voice pulled me out of the shadow. “Huh?”
“In my office.” His hand was still settled on the ice pack, a solid weight that I swore burned even through the ice. “You said your body was only good for one thing, and now that’s gone. What did you mean by that? What was the one thing?”
“Oh. Um. Dancing. Which I obviously can’t do anymore.” I gestured at my knee.
He looked a bit confused. “Then why did you agree to dance tonight?”
