“Let’s get back to the tournament,” said Cole as he handed Steph’s license back. “Hey, Stephanie. Don’t be upset. Shock and awe looks good on you.”
“Cole, you are walking on thin ice,” Jarrett replied. “Did you see the look Steph gave you? She’s about to put you in time-out.”
“Time-out, I can handle.” Cole held up his palms in mock terror. “I was afraid she might stick that license where the sun doesn’t shine.”
Branson had a concierge doctor waiting in the lobby when they returned to the hotel. He insisted on remaining behind with Stephanie, since he needed to authorize his employer insurance, but sent the others back to the tournament. Carina hesitated, giving Steph a dirty look, but Cole propelled her forward, whispering something hilarious in her ear, her strident laughter echoing off the high ceilings.
Though the baby-faced guy wore a white coat with M.D. emblazoned on the pocket, Steph could hardly believe he was a doctor. With wide eyes and sparse beard, he could’ve been high school aged. As he poked and prodded her ankle, Steph bit her lip to keep from crying out. Breaking out in a cold sweat, she quickly shed her wrap and gripped the arms of the chair.
This innocent-looking kid is a sadist.
She hissed in pain as he twisted it one direction and back the other.
“You sprained your ankle,” he said.
Duh. Thanks for nothing.
“How did it happen?” he asked.
“Walking in those.” She pointed to the abandoned heels beside her chair. “It’s a good thing I changed shoes earlier tonight. The other pair had even taller heels. I’m obviously meant to wear flats.”
“Are you sure her ankle’s not broken?” Branson asked. “Should we go to the emergency room?”
“I don’t think it’s broken,” he explained as he placed a boot on her foot. “But if it doesn’t seem to be improving in a few days, you should go see an orthopedist. Rest it. Ice it. Elevate it. You should be fine.”
“Can you give her something for the pain?” Bran asked.
“It’s not that bad,” Steph interrupted before the doc could answer. “I’ll just take some ibuprofen.”
The doc nodded. “Good idea. Anti-inflammatories like ibuprofen or aspirin or Naprosyn sodium, around the clock. Elevate to reduce swelling. Use these crutches for at least the first twenty-four hours to keep the weight off your foot. This air cast ought to keep you from twisting it while it’s healing.
“I’ll be sure she uses the crutches,” Branson assured the doctor, as he completed some sort of online transaction via his accessible cell phone.
With a few forms signed and final instructions given, the doctor was on his way. The entire appointment took less than fifteen minutes. Bran stood and offered his hand to Stephanie. She accepted his help, irritated that his touch still sent tingles up her spine.
She had to get over him. He belonged to Carina, now. She resolved to forget all about him. She willed the tingles away. I need to concentrate on something else. Okay, I’m at the dentist, and she’s about to drill on my tooth. It worked… right up until the moment Branson spoke.
“Stephanie, I can’t stand that you’re hurting.” His brows were knit in anguish. “I wish it was me, instead.”
Melting. She was literally melting. Her resolve turned to mush. Carina didn’t deserve him. Yet, she had to accept that Bran had chosen her, whatever his reasons.
Bran passed her the crutches, and she attempted to balance on one foot while holding a crutch and a shoe in each hand, her purse strap slung over her shoulder.
“Woops,” she exclaimed, as she wobbled.
Bran’s steadying hand grasped her arm, holding her firmly until she was stable. Then his fingers slid across to the bare skin of her back, eliciting a new set of quivers, more intense than the first.
“You’re shivering.” The tender concern in his voice almost broke her heart, as he dropped his cane and used both hands to rub her arms, warming them with the friction.
Thank goodness that’s all he did. If he’d chosen to share his heat by pulling her against him, she would’ve dissolved in a puddle, right there on the lobby floor.
Her back shouldn’t have been bare. She spied her lace wrap, still on the chair.
“I didn’t pick up my cape. Don’t think I can reach it without dropping something.”
Before she finished her sentence, Branson was groping for the wrap. He retrieved it and draped it over her shoulders, smoothing it in place with gentle hands. “Is that better? It feels really lightweight. You could wear my tux coat.”
“I’ll be fine.”