Chapter Six
Harper
I should’ve known it was going to be a day when I woke to find the sky gray and overcast, but it took a pothole and about four ounces of scalding hot coffee in my lap to drive the point home. Fortunately, the coffee stain mostly blends in with my navy scrubs, so I’m rolling with it. Lesson learned.
Even nursing students should keep a clean set of scrubs handy.
I make a mental note to throw an extra pair in the car as I make the rounds with Nurse Rogers, checking vitals and pushing meds. She’s quiet this morning, and I’m calling it a win because at least she’s not critiquing my every move.
When we get to Chase’s room, he’s awake and watching SportsCenter, his leg propped up on a stack of sad-looking pillows. Something’s off and it takes me a minute to realize he’s wearing real clothes. His faded hospital gown has been replaced by navy athletic shorts and a white tank top.
The better to show off his muscles.
Chase’s sculpted pecs are on full display, the thin material of the tank leaving little to the imagination. He’s got a deep tan that hasn’t yet started to fade, and there’s a smattering of gold hair on his chest that’s just a few shades lighter than the dirty blond curls on his head. My throat is suddenly parched. It’s all I can do not to pour myself a glass of water from the pitcher on the nightstand.
My gaze travels down the ropy muscles of his biceps and lingers on his large, capable hands. Hands that were on my body last night. Sure, he only touched my feet, but technically? Still my body.
Pressure coils low in my belly and—Nope. Not going there.
Chase chuckles and I shake off my reverie. I am a professional, after all. And it’s not like I’ve never seen a male chest before.
“Good morning, ladies.”
“Morning,” I say, pulling up his chart on the computer. “I see you’ve upgraded from your hospital gown.”
“It took a little convincing, but I finally wore the doc down,” he says, ruffling a hand through his hair. “And I gotta tell you, I feel a thousand times better. Who knew putting on real clothes could be such a game changer?”
Literally everyone who’s ever had to bare their ass in a hospital gown.
That’s what I want to say, but I don’t, because…Nurse Rogers. She stands beside me, looking over my shoulder as I scan the most recent updates to Chase’s file. It’s almost a relief when I step away to take his vitals.
The woman gives the phrasebreathing down my necknew meaning.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better today,” I say, moving to the sink to wash my hands. That’s it. Just keep it professional. And hope like hell Chase doesn’t bring up last night’s foot massage.
“I am,” he replies, flashing me a devilish grin as I grab a paper towel and dry my hands. “And what about you? You’re looking ratherrelaxedtoday.”
So much for that. I’m starting to think the guy doesn’t have a subtle bone in his body.
“How’s your pain this morning?” I ask, ignoring his question. No need to encourage him, especially with Nurse Rogers scrutinizing my every move. He shifts slightly when I approach the bed, and though I’m sure he thinks he’s doing a great job of hiding his discomfort, I don’t miss the way his lips tighten when he moves.
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
I nod, but say nothing, giving him a chance to elaborate. The doctor scaled back the dose on his painkillers, which means we’ll need to keep an eye on his pain level. Something tells me Chase will suffer in silence before admitting there’s anything he can’t handle.
“Your pillows are looking a little flat,” I say, gesturing to the thin stack under his leg.
“It’s this damn brace.” He glares at the metal contraption, and I can’t really blame him because it looks hella uncomfortable. “The weight just crushes the pillows every time I fluff them up.”
I turn to Nurse Rogers. “Can we try a few blankets?”
She nods in agreement and a few minutes later, I’m carefully tucking folded blankets under Chase’s leg as he watches me work. His left leg is heavily bandaged below the knee, but repositioning him requires that I elevate the entire leg. That means I also have to touch his upper thigh, and every time my fingers dig into the taut muscles, I can’t help but remember the Sig party when he told me his legs were his best asset.
He’s not wrong. His thighs are thick and well-defined, and it doesn’t take a whole lot of imagination to picture myself wedged between them.
Which I definitely shouldnotbe thinking about right now. Heat floods my cheeks, and I give silent thanks he’s wearing shorts and not a hospital gown. The last thing I need is actual images of Chase’s cock to keep me up at night.
The guy is already taking up far too much real estate in my brain.
