Page 20 of The Backup Plan

First day. Dream job. I can’t mess this up.

My mouth opens before my brain can stop it.

“You—”

Her brown eyes flick to mine. And while it takes a fraction of a second for her to see the clean-shaven face and associate the rest of me with the man from the hotel earlier—I see the second recognition hits.

There’s shock first and foremost, a parting of her lips, a quick intake of breath, and then a fleeting glance at the busy room around us to what? See if anyone saw a glimpse of recognition between us?

Next came the warning. I watched as she straightened and as she slipped the mask back on. It was a clear but silent line drawn between then and now.

Her expression doesn’t soften like mine does. Doesn’t acknowledge that we even know each other and sure as hell doesn’t invite questions or gratitude or concern.

It shuts me down without a word.

“Dr. Emery Porter,” she says, tone even and professional as she motions to the examination table. “Have a seat.”

Not Emery.

Doctor.

Message received. Can I blame her?

I’m still impressed that she managed to pull herself together, so I can also respect her need to keep our interaction professional.

I hop up onto the table, looking for a way to put her at ease. “You don’t look old enough to remember my rookie season.”

Her brow lifts. “And you don’t look fragile enough to be avoiding rotating your shoulder like you are, and yet here we are.”

Touché.

I like the glimpse of defiance that was unapologetically taken from her last night.

I grin. “Guess we’re both full of surprises.”

“That’s a way to phrase it,” she mutters, before she flips open the cover on a tablet and starts swiping at something on the screen.

There’s a brief moment where she looks up, where our eyes lock, and I see gratitude there. I also see a woman trying to keep her shit together so she can be the doctor the letters after her name earned her, and not the vulnerable mess I left her as this morning. It’s quick and fleeting but again it makes me respect her more.

“So, it’s important to get something straight before we start. I don’t care about your highlight reels or how phenomenal you were in the past. I care about you now. About your tissue response, your mobility, and whether or not you’re pushing yourself too fast and too far because your ego lies to you and tells you that you’re fine.”

I blink once, then laugh. “Well, you’re blunt.”

She looks up from the tablet and meets my eyes again. That glimpse of vulnerability is completely gone. “I think the words you’re looking for are efficient and educated. Exactly what you need.”

I like her already.

That’s probably a problem.

And not just because I’ve seen her scared and sick and trusting me with her safety. But because this version of her—the demanding, determined one—is remarkable.

“Okay.” I draw the word out. “They really gave you me on your first day?”

“Not sure if it’s a punishment or confidence in my work. Guess I have time to decide that.”

I chuckle. “Just tell me you think I’m cleared to play a full game, and neither of us will have to find out.”

“The man has jokes,” she says and moves toward me. “Let’s get started, shall we? Any pain today?”