At Grant’s protest, multiple snorts sounded around the kitchen.
“Thirty seconds, and I’ll know for sure,” Eve pressed, holding her hands in the air and wiggling her fingers. “I promise, it won’t hurt a bit.”
Grant turned and nailed Adam with a piercing rust-colored gaze.
“Don’t look at him,” Eve said. “He’s not going to help you.”
“He could order him to do it,” Davis said.
Adam shook his head. “Sorry, bud. I can’t order him. If Grant wants to suffer, it’s his call.”
“Oh, for the love of—” Gray banged her glass of orange juice down on the table, pegging Grant with a sharp look. “We all know your ribs are fucked, and it’s my fault, so take your shirt off, dickhead, and let Eve help you.” Grant shifted his gaze to Gray. “Please,” she added, her expression softening. Her eyes pleading. Thefor mewent unsaid, but the result was the same.
His goateed expression carefully blank, Grant one-armed his T-shirt over his head, and Eve didn’t need to lay her hands on him to see the source of his problem. To the untrained eye, his physique might appear normal, if you disregarded the stunning eight-pack and variety of scars.
To her eye, his rib cage looked lopsided, higher on the left than the right.
He held himself still, his gaze pinned to the wall as she circled around him. Exploring, absorbing, diagnosing. Her palms laid flat on his skin, she felt along muscle and bone. Her fingers floated over a recently healed gunshot wound, down his sternum, and along his ribs.
“Doc, can you come here a second?” At Eve’s request, he slid off his stool. When he reached them, she took his hand, and placed it where she wanted it, guiding his fingers over a couple of broken ribs that hadn’t set properly. “Feel it?”
He nodded and prodded a little deeper, causing Grant’s jaw to clench. “At least two ribs out of place.”
“Yeah. Number five and six. Maybe seven.”
“Can you fix it without surgery?”
“Not sure,” she replied. “I’d need to see the films.”
“Don’t have any.” Doc lifted his head. “Z, can you get your hands on a portable x-ray machine?”
“Yeah, no problem. Have it here this week.”
She turned her attention back to Grant and patted his side. “You can put your shirt back on now.”
He complied without comment, and chest once again under the protection of Wile E. Coyote, the super genius grabbed his coffee and left through the closest exit into the rear hall.
“Was it something I said?” Eve joked to cover her flare of embarrassment.
She hadn’t asked if he wanted to be treated, and she hadn’t stopped to consider the possibility he might not want her help. She’d just plowed right over him, wanting to add value, be of worth, use the skills she’d spent years honing and perfecting.
God, that little stunt had been more about her than him.
Yes, he needed physical therapy and maybe even surgery, but she’d put him on the spot, and now, she felt downright foolish.
“Don’t worry about Grant.” Coming to a stop in front of her, Adam planted a reassuring kiss on her lips. “He’s hard on the head and needed the shove.”
“What about Cody?” Doc asked, turning on the water to wash his hands. “Can you fix his butt? I’m tired of listening to him moan and groan.”
“I’m not dropping my drawers in the kitchen,” Cody protested, pointing the spatula across the room. “Besides, Chase’s back is worse than my ass.”
“Hell, whatever I can do to get rid of these muscle spasms, I’m all in, numbnuts. If you’re taking new clients, Eve, can you sign me up for the first appointment?”
Adam looked around at his team, and then dropped his gaze to hers. “What do you say? Think you can physio these assholes back into shape?”
“Oh…well…yeah. I mean, I can do that. It’ll take a bit of time, and I’ll need to get a few things…” A TENS machine, therapeutic ultrasound, acupuncture needles, heating and cooling pads. Already planning in her head, her list kept growing.
“We’ve got time,” Adam said, picking up a mug and handing it to her. “Let’s have some breakfast, and then you can sit with Z to order what you need. Does that work for you?”
