She also did a neurological exam to be sure he didn’t exhibit signs of a head injury.
“I agree. You seem fine. But I still think we’ll get an X-ray of your leg and knee, just to be on the safe side.”
“That’s a waste of time.”
She lifted her gaze to his. “Remind me again—which one of us is the doctor?”
He shrugged. “Whatever you want.”
She wrote the orders. “Wait here and someone will be in to take you to X-ray.”
She closed the file, then started for the door.
“Wait. You’re not staying here with me?”
She turned to face him. “I have other patients, Tucker.”
“Sure. Right. You do. See you later, Doc.”
Aubry sensed something bothered him, but it wasn’t physical. She was waiting on labs for one patient, discharge papers on another. She had a few minutes, and her staff knew where she was if something came up. She leaned against the door. “Is there something you wanted to talk about?”
“No.” He waited a few seconds, then asked, “Did you watch the game tonight?”
“I’m working, as you can see.”
“Game was on in the waiting room when I came in.”
“I don’t work in the waiting room. Besides, I don’t watch baseball.”
She tried not to laugh at his horrified expression.
“How the hell can you not watch baseball? Your dad owns the team.”
“Which doesn’t mean I’m required to like baseball.”
“I have to say, I’m really disappointed in you, Aubry.”
“I’ll try to get through the rest of my life with your disappointment.”
“Okay, but, can I head out to the waiting room to watch the game? I don’t know what’s going on.”
She looked down at him, trying very hard not to appreciate his very fine thighs, or what was going on between them. “In your underwear?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’d put my pants back on first.”
“How about I put a rush on the X-ray, then you can get back to the game.”
He heaved a heavy sigh. “Fine.”
She left the room, handed off the paperwork and ordered the X-ray, then went to check on her other patients. In the meantime, several other patients came in so it was an hour or so before she made her way back to check on Tucker. His films were ready, so she took a look, then went back into the room.
Tucker wasn’t in there. She had a pretty good idea where she’d find him.
The admissions area wasn’t full, but the television was on, and there was Tucker, sitting with a group of what Aubry could only assume were fans, since they had grouped around him like he was the freaking Dalai Lama or something.
He was watching television. The other people in the waiting room weren’t watching television. They were ogling Tucker, especially the young, extremely attractive woman sitting behind him who looked like she was seconds away from running her fingers through his hair. Or possibly hurdling the chairs and climbing onto his lap.
No way. Not on her shift. Besides, there were kids in the waiting room.
She headed that way and stepped in front of him.
“Tucker, I have your X-ray results.”
He looked up at her. “Okay, great. Gotta go, folks. Thanks for keeping me company.”
“Bye, Tucker,” one of the kids said. “I hope your leg isn’t too bad. I hope you don’t miss your next spot in the rotation.”
“Not gonna happen,” Tucker said, bending over to shake the boy’s hand. “And I hope your tonsils are going to be okay, too.”
“Mom says they gotta come out. Does it hurt?”
“For a few days. But you get ice cream. Come on—how bad is that?”
The boy grinned.
Tucker stepped beside her as she led him down the hall and back to the exam room. “We won.”
“You’ve made my entire night with that news.”
“Yeah, I can tell.”
She closed the door behind her. “Take a seat.”
“Okay.” He scooted back up on the table.
“You were supposed to stay in here.”
“I got bored. And you know, the game.”
“Uh-huh. Anyway, your X-rays are clear.”
“As I knew they’d be. It’s just a cut on my leg. I’m fine.”
“You will be. Keep the wound dry for the next several days. Your team doctor can remove the stitches after a week. Try not to do anything to pull the stitches out.”
“But I can pitch, right?”
“Yes. You can pitch.”
He hopped off the table. “All right then. So I can go now?”
“Yes, you can go now. Stop at the front desk where you can pick up your release paperwork.”
“Great. Thanks, Doc.”
“You’re welcome. Try to avoid getting hurt again.”
He leaned against the table and crossed his arms, giving her a smile that did strange things to all her feminine parts. “Trust me. I’m not doing it on purpose. I could have finished the game. I was pitching like a superstar, you know.”
“So modest, you athletes.”
“I take it you don’t like baseball players.”
She was making notes in the chart, so she looked up at him. “I have nothing against athletes.”
“I sense a ‘but’ in there.”