Page 21 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

Well, all right, then. Apparently, the bee in Theo’s bonnet is going to have to stay his problem.

Which is good.

It’s none of my business, anyway.

7

BLAKELY

Once Russ was finished showing me the motions for a proper leg massage, he went to his small desk in the back corner and has been flipping through paperwork ever since.

“That’s enough,” he says without bothering to look over at us.

I stop touching Burrows’ knee and rub my hands together. “Uh, I guess that’s it for the day. Thanks.”

He slides off the black-cushioned table similar to one you’d find at a doctor’s office. Once he’s on his feet, he asks, “For what?”

You’d never know the guy had knee surgery. He’s strong. Athletic. Practically indestructible. You can see it in the way he carries himself.

Well, carried, since I kind of put him through the ringer during our PT session. He bends down and rubs at his knee gently while I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from ogling him. The guy’s good looking. So sue me.

Once he’s back to his full height, he looks at me, waiting for an answer.

Oh. Right.

I meet his gaze and smile, clarifying, “Thank you for being my first patient.”

Burrows digs into his pocket and offers me his phone. “Glad I could be of service. Any chance you’d give me your number in exchange for my glowing review?”

I snort but take his cell and plug in my number, handing it back to him. “Only so you can let me know if your knee starts hurting or something.”

“I’ll be sure to keep you in the loop. Maybe I can even give you an update during dinner? I believe I owe you after our Beer Pong game.”

“Pretty sure the offer expired,” I tease.

“Then, I guess I really will need another rematch.” His brow arches with a silent challenge.

“Maybe some other time.”

“All right,” he returns, clearly unperturbed by my dismissal. “See you around, Blake.” He walks out of the PT room with a slight limp, and I watch him leave.

He’s cute.

Safe.

I should want safe.

“It’s normal,” Russ says.

Tearing my attention from Burrows’ backside, I clear my throat and turn back to Russ. Shit. I’d almost forgotten he was here.

“What’s normal?” I ask.

“The slight limp.”

“Oh.” I nod and cross my arms. “Gotcha.”

“You did good today,” he notes, standing up and heading toward the door.

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