I spot two tattoos—a butterfly on his left bicep, and script on the right side of his chest that I can’t quite read without giving away that I’m checking him out.
“I don’t think so, but we can go over all of that tomorrow when you’re feeling better. For tonight, I think you should stay here where we can keep an eye on you. It’ll be easier for everyone, considering your limited mobility with your shoulder and the concussion. Any more nausea or vomiting?”
“No,” he answers quickly.
Doctor Weston pauses, giving him a chance to change his answer.
“A little nausea, but it’s better. No vomiting.”
“Good,” she says. “Blurry vision? Problems walking or talking?”
“No.” His voice is more assured this time.
She nods, but still pulls out her penlight and checks his eyes. When she’s satisfied, she turns it off and stands tall. “All right. I’ll check back in a couple of hours, but for now, the best thing you can do is rest and let your body start to recover. Your pain level will likely increase as the adrenaline from the night starts to wear off.” For the first time, she looks at the other gentleman in the room. “Any questions?”
They’re both quiet, and with another nod, she takes a step toward the door.
“Thanks,” he calls after her.
I feel Ash’s gaze immediately switch to me, but the man in the polo shirt speaks first. “I should get home to the wife and let you rest up. If you need anything, give me a call. I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”
While Ash says goodbye to him, I finish reading his chart. Ash Kelly, twenty-nine years old, no allergies, shoulder separation and concussion, just as Hannah said. They didn’t list his six pack or panty-melting smile. An obvious oversight.
“I can’t believe it’s you,” Ash says when we’re alone.
My heart skips and I shuffle awkwardly, having no idea how to respond.
“It is you, right? I’m not hallucinating, am I? You’re the girl from the game last month?”
“Bridget,” I say, not directly answering his question.
“Bridget.” The way he says my name sends a shot of unprofessional heat climbing up my neck.
I should tell him I’m his nurse for tonight, but maybe I can still get someone to switch with me. I settle for smiling and asking, “Can I get you anything, Mr. Kelly?”
“Mr. Kelly?” He quirks a brow, then lets out a soft laugh. “Nah. Only thing I need right now is a shower.”
Now that he’s mentioned it, I can tell he came straight from the game. His hair is a little messy, though still somehow sexy. The dusty brown locks fall just below his chin, and he has it tucked behind his ears to keep it out of his face and covered with a backward hat.
His wrists are still taped, something I noticed at the game that a lot of the guys do. It’s a wonder he isn’t still in pads and skates.
“Sure.” I walk over to the bathroom and open the door wide. “Everything you need should be in there.”
His stunning blue eyes sparkle with excitement and disbelief. “I can’t get over it. You’re really here.”
I can’t get over it either. My stomach is doing a series of somersaults that make it hard to catch my breath.
“I’ve looked for you at every home game.”
Thrown off guard by that comment, but eager to guide us back to a more professional topic, I decide to take this moment to go through my usual spiel when entering a patient’s room. As much as my coworkers would love to trade me places, no one would dare go above Sandy’s head.
“I’m taking over as your nurse tonight. The room is all stocked, and I’ll put in a request for a late dinner tray. Any food preferences or dietary restrictions not noted on your chart?”
“I’m not hungry,” he says.
“Okay. Well, if there’s anything else you need, press the red call button on the side of your bed.”
I’d usually go show him, but stepping any closer feels like a terrible idea. Even six feet apart he can probably see the impact he’s having on me. “I’ll bring in a dinner tray anyway in case you’re hungry later. Do you need any help with the shower?” My face heats. “I mean getting out of the sling or getting undressed? I can ask a male nurse to assist.”
Do not think of him naked. Do not think of him naked.
His lips twitch at the corners like he knows exactly what I’m trying not to think about. “I can manage.”