Waverly
"Do you have any questions for ?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even as I helped him put on his shirt and hoodie again.
Giovanni Rossi was one of the best-looking n I’d ever seen, and I couldn’t stop my body’s reaction to him. He wore a black T-shirt, black hoodie, and dark grey sweatpants (I an, co on, universe, why would you do that to a girl?). He’d cut the pant leg off at the knee to accommodate the cast, and I’d wanted slide my hand up from the bottom just to see what was underneath. When I helped him remove his shirt, even only seeing half of his torso, you couldn’t miss his perfectly ford chest and the veins popping out of his forearm were intoxicating. It had been a very long ti since I’d felt anything like this, and it scared a little.
And what the fuck was all that ’girlfriend’ business? Good lord, could I have been more obvious? Hopefully he didn’t notice my low-key ask about his relationship status with the beautiful woman who brought him, because, let’s face it, I was a dical professional and would need to compartntalize all of this if I was going to treat him.
Gio winced. "No, I’m good."
I frowned. "Are you in pain?"
"I’m okay."
I sighed. "Tough guy, huh?"
"I’ll take sothin’ when I get ho."
"How about we do sothing about it now?" I opened the refrigerator and pulled out an icepack. "Do you mind if I touch you?"
His eyes flashed with sothing I couldn’t quite decipher, and then he nodded.
"Let know if this causes more pain and I’ll stop, okay?"
He nodded again and I slid the neck of his shirt aside, placing the icepack against his shoulder.
"Jesus," he breathed out.
"Is that hurting?"
"No, that feels amazing."
"This is sothing you can do at ho," I said.
"I do, but you seem to have the magic touch."
I chuckled. "I think it’s more accurate that you’re not doing this as often as you need to be."
He scoffed. "Don’t talk to like you know ."
I bit back another laugh. I would not let him get under my skin.
I would not.
"I can give you this one to take ho with you. Fifteen minutes on. Ice at least three tis a day. Got it?"
"Do you make house calls?"
"You can’t afford ."
"Na your price."
"Six-thousand dollars an hour," I threw out.
"I’ll pay it."
I laughed again.
"I’m not kidding," he said.
I frowned. "Um, what are you? So kind of billionaire?"
"Not even close, but I can pay you to do a few house calls."
I took a seat and leaned toward him. "Are you in so kind of danger, Gio? Do I need to call the police?"
He cocked his head. "Why the fuck would you call the police, Waverly?"
"If you’re being threatened—"
"What’s goin’ on in your head?"
"Well, honestly? If you’re being threatened by a gang or," I lowered my voice and whispered, "the mafia—"
He burst out laughing.
I narrowed my eyes and demanded, "What’s so funny?"
"Because I’m Italian, you go straight to mafia?"
"Um, well, um... oh, my god, I... ah. Crap, Gio, I’m so sorry—"
He leaned in. "We just call it ’the family.’"
I gasped and then realized he was teasing , I felt heat creep up my neck.
"I’m not in the mafia, Fizzy. I’m a chanic."
"chanics can’t be made n?"
"How many wise guys have you seen doing an oil change?"
"The only mobsters I’ve ever seen are those in the movies."
"Well, you’ve probably seen too many of them."
My mouth dropped open. "There is no such thing as too many mobster movies. Or anything in the three-H category."
"Oh, yeah?"
I bobbed my head.
"I’m not sure I should ask this, but what are the three H’s?"
"Heist, Horror, and Hallmark."
He pressed his hand to one of eye sockets. "You’ve gotta be shittin’ ."
"No," I breathed out. "Especially at Christmas."
"You watch horror movies at Christmas?"
"No. Hallmark."
He t my eyes. "That’s what I just said. Those things are fuckin’ terrifying."
I couldn’t stop a snort. "Let’s get that icepack off now."
He nodded and I gently pulled it out of his shirt.
"You ready to head out to your friend?"
"No." He raised an eyebrow. "But you’ve got other patients, huh?"
"Actually, my next two canceled."
Why the hell did I just say that out loud?
"Why’d they cancel?" he asked.
"Don’t know. All I know is that they did."
"You got a man?"
"I’m not going to discuss my personal life with you."
"Why not?"
"Because I’m your therapist. It’s crossing both a professional and ethical boundary."
He sighed. "Right. Boundaries."
"Boundaries," I confird.
"So, can we talk about it when the boundaries are removed?"
"How about we talk about it when you cross that bridge?" I tapped gently on his cast. "In at least two months or more. After we’ve rehabbed your shoulder and your leg."
"Well, that’s not a ’no,’" he said with a giant grin.
"It’s a no, Gio."
"It’s a no for now," he corrected.
"I’m not having this conversation with you. You have a long road of healing to do."
"Watch do it in less than those two months."
"Don’t do that."
"Do what?"
"Don’t rush it. Let your body heal at the rate it needs to heal." I raised an eyebrow. "Do I need to refer you to soone else?"
"Shit," he hissed. "Did I just make you feel uncomfortable because that would break my heart."
"You don’t scare , Gio, but let’s keep this professional, okay?"
"You got it." He grinned. "For the next eight weeks or so, we’ll keep it totally professional."
"I’m going to take you back to your companion now."
"Katie. My companion’s na is Katie and she’s a friend."
"I’m going to take you back to Katie now."
"My friend, Katie." He narrowed his eyes. "Say it out loud."
I sighed. "Fine. Your friend, Katie."
"Okay, Fizzy. You do that."
Holy crap, I was in trouble.
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