Ramsey: A Military Bad Boy Secret Baby Pregnancy Romance (The Bradford Brothers Book 3) (42 page)

At eight o’clock on Monday morning, I report to Dr. Davis’ office as instructed. He’s not here yet, and I’m annoyed. All weekend I’ve been waiting to talk to him and find out more about my status.

I head to my own “office,” which is makeshift at best: a large, windowless supply closet that he set up with a desk and computer chair when I first started working for him. Neither he nor I have felt inspired to do anything else to improve it since then. I look at the clock hanging rather haphazardly from the drab wall of my office and tap my foot impatiently.

While the rest of Dr. Davis’ offices are modern and elegant, my office is the only one lacking any kind of curb appeal. No one except Dr. Davis and I have to see it, though, because my job is to assist him and to talk to the patients who are scared of upcoming procedures, just as I once was.

He doesn’t pay me that well for the work, but it gives me something to do besides sit at home brooding over the fact that I can’t be serving with my unit. Dr. Davis keeps telling me that my work will pay off tenfold once his patented technology is bought out and the stocks go public. At that point he is going to give me a large share of the sale. He’s even mentioned the possibility of making me a partner in his business.

Finally, at quarter after I hear him come through the front lobby. I give him a minute, thinking he will head back to my office, but he doesn’t. So I walk back over to his.

“Jensen,” he says, as if he’s surprised to see me. “You make it home okay on Friday night?”

“Yes sir. I just…”

“Oh yes, you wanted to talk about your certification status.”

“Yes sir.”

“Have a seat.”

I sit down at the chair in front of his desk, trying to appear as patient as possible. He walks over to his locked filing cabinet and then retrieves my file, first having to search for a few seconds to find it. He had clearly forgotten about meeting with me, even though he was the one who had set it up.

“Now, I have some good news and some bad news.”

“Sure.”

My palms are sweaty and I can feel my own heartbeat racing. I don’t like the phrase “bad news.”

“The good news is that you are progressing remarkably well. As you know, you were at death’s door step and had significant physical injuries and brain trauma. But now you have come so far. I believe that you are ready to return to combat, but the Powers That Be don’t agree.”

“The Powers That Be?”

“Oh yes. You know, those in the military who look over your file and decide whether you’re fit to fight. They don’t think enough time has passed from your accident until now in order to be assured of your recovery, and they want to see your continued improvement. So, that’s the bad news.”

“But you’ve worked with me this whole time, and everything is back on track,” I tell him. “What else could there possibly be to improve?”

“That’s what I told them,” he says, his hands up and his face showing a look of amazement. “But they don’t believe little old me. Probably because I’m not in the military. So I’ve decided to refer you out for physical therapy, so that another person will be on board and will be able to give you tests and assessments to independently verify that you’re fit to fight. The physical therapy program is through one of the military’s own clinics, so I’m thinking they’ll have to give that person’s opinion more merit than they’re giving mine.”

“Okay. So where do I go for this treatment? I’d like to get it done as quickly as possible, to show them that you’re right, that I’m good to go back.”

I sigh, feeling completely defeated. I was hoping I might be able to go on the next deployment but apparently I’m not going back any time soon. I guess I have no choice but to jump through the hoops they’re setting up for me.

“Of course. One second.”

Dr. Davis types something into his computer and then writes down the name and address that comes up on Google.

“I’ve already set you up for an appointment there at 2 o’clock tomorrow,” he says. “They already know all about you because of the presentation last week, and they’re looking forward to meeting you.”

I wish I could say the feeling was mutual.

“Now, let me fill you in on the patients we have coming in today,” Dr. Davis says, switching the subject of the conversation as if it was no big deal.

Except that to me, my world has ended, again. Without the military, I’m nothing. Or worse— I’m stuck here being Dr. Davis’ pet project and trying to reassure other guys who are way worse off than I am that Dr. Davis can work miracles for them too. It’s beginning to feel like I’ll never be back to my comfort zone.

Chapter 13

It may be Tuesday, but to me the day is dragging as if it’s a Monday. I’m at work helping Max. He’s an airman who is learning to adjust to walking with a prosthetic leg. But his progress has been slow- going and I can’t stop thinking about the Harlow guy. Of course, I think about his banging body and handsome face, but mostly I’m lost in thoughts that are a bit more negative in nature.

I wish all my patients had access to the kind of treatment that Harlow is receiving. I’m glad that Dr. Davis will be working with more military members, but we’re so overloaded with those who need physical therapy services that I’m not sure how one doctor could possibly see all of them. And I can’t stop wondering why Dr. Davis chose Harlow instead of many others I have seen come and go.

Sure, he’s sexy and rugged and looks perfect as the actor in Dr. Davis’ demonstrations. But the same could be said for many of the veterans and current service members. Maybe it’s the fact that his story is so powerful— one minute he was rescuing people and the next minute Dr. Davis was rescuing him.

I’m still lost in thought, but trying to concentrate on Max’s balancing exercises, when Lance rushes into the training room.

“Girl, have I got some news for you.”

I look up at him and smile. He always cheers me up no matter my mood, and I’m lucky to have a boss like him.

“What is it?”

“Can’t say now, but come to my office when you’re done.”

“Sure,” I say, since I was planning to anyway, with the notes from Max’s session.

Maybe Lance will have some ideas for how to speed up Max’s recovery.

But once the session ends and I’m in Lance’s office, he doesn’t give me time to discuss Max.

“Guess what, guess what, guess what?”

“
What
? Geez, Lance, did you win the lottery or something?”

“You know I’d be in Ibiza right now if I did!” Lance responds. “This is work- related, which can never be as good as winning the lottery. But still. Do you remember that guy from the presentation last week? And that doctor you grilled?”

I try very hard to keep a straight face, knowing that Lance can read me very well. Of course I remember. But I try to remain nonchalant.

“More or less,” I say, shrugging.

“Well, believe it or not…”

And then there’s a knock at the door, which is half- way open anyway. I turn around to see
him
. Harlow. The object of my thoughts— both good and bad— for the past few days. 

He’s standing in my workplace, and he’s looking at me with eyes full of the same surprise that I feel.

Chapter 14

I drive to Pi
ñ
on Physical Therapy at 1:30 on Tuesday afternoon. It’s earlier than I need to be on the road, but I’ve never been to this facility and I hate being late.

The whole way to the clinic, I feel annoyed that I have to impress some medical nerds just to be cleared for active duty. I doubt they’ve ever been to war. They’re certainly not going to understand my desire to be back.

I walk through the office doors a bit early, but everyone I meet seems excited I’m here. Apparently I’m like a celebrity around here.

“I’m Dr. So- and- So and we’re excited to have you with us.”

“I’m Dr. Whoever and I look forward to helping you fully recover.”

The names and faces blur together.

I
am
fully recovered
, I want to tell them.
I’m just fine. I don’t even know why I’m here
.

Instead, I smile and nod and look appreciative.

One doctor appears to be the head of the joint. After we shake hands and exchange the normal pleasantries, he takes me into his office and closes the door.

“Mr. Bradford, it is a pleasure to have you with us. The entire staff looks forward to working with you. Dr. Warren, whom you already met, will be overseeing your treatment to make sure that everything is on course, but your initial sessions will actually be with our intern.”

I like the sound of that. They can’t think I’m that screwed up if they’ve assigned me to an
intern
. And it’ll be easy to impress a guy so new and low on the hierarchy.

“I’ll show you around and then I’ll take you to meet her. She’s our top and brightest intern right now. Her name is Whitney Reid.”

Her
. A female intern. I can’t say that I expected that but I guess makes sense then some physical therapists would be women. I’ll just flirt with her and it’ll be even easier to get her to sign off on my physical fitness.

“I’m looking forward to it,” I tell this doctor, whose name I already forget.

He takes me around the facilities, which do look to be rather state- of- the- art, and introduces me to more people I’m sure I’ll soon forget. Everyone seems to have been made aware that I’d be here, because they look impressed or even embarrassed, bowing slightly and saying things like “the pleasure is all mine” and “please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

I feel like I’m royalty or something. Sure, I’m used to being on stage and demonstrating my miraculous come- back, but it’s usually as Dr. Davis’ right- hand man. All the credit and glory usually goes to him. I guess I rather like this place.

“And now I’ll introduce you to Whitney,” says the doctor, rapping softly on a door that’s already open. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy working…”

But I’m not listening to him, or looking at him. The only thing taking up all of my attention is that girl.

Whitney.

The one with the ass.

The one with the tits.

The one with the tenacity to question Dr. Davis during an awards ceremony presentation.

It dawns on me that she might not be the best person to work with me. She seemed very skeptical of my progress.

But then she turns away from me, to whisper something to another physical therapist, and I catch a glimpse of her cleavage and then the shape of her ass.
I guess maybe physical therapy with this intern won’t be that bad, after all.