A Date with a Turkey (The Dating 11) - Page 5

As soon as my knee hits the surface of the road, I roll. I learned this in football and used it to avoid an onslaught by a defensive back coming to tackle me. Although, most times, they held onto you to break their fall. However, no one is here to take me down to the ground, and I’m not wearing my pads.

Or my lucky headband, for that matter.

The stinging of my knee scraping against the road causes me to cry out. Rocks are poking my ass, but I’m in no shape to worry about those right now. Runners race past me, not giving a shit that their local bank manager is on the ground, injured, and in pain. They’re much like me; they race to win. I try to stand, but the pain is excruciating, and I collapse onto the ground and clutch my knee.

Once every racer has passed by, I see a volunteer coming toward me with a wheelchair. Great, if this wasn’t already embarrassing enough, now I’ll be on display for all to gawk at until I get to the medic tent.

The medic tent.

“Can you stand, sir?”

I shake my head and hold my hand out. The young kid hooks his thumb with mine, grips my wrist, and heaves my ass up. His friend holds onto the chair and keeps it steady as I sit down. My savior props my leg up and surmises that I have a “nasty gash” on my knee cap. I don’t bother telling him that I think I tore my ACL. I’ll leave that diagnosis to the cute medic. This must be a sign, albeit one that hurts like a son-of-a-bitch.

“Hey Maeve, I have a live one for ya,” the young kid says when we arrive at the booth. She looks at me quickly and then smiles at the boy.

“Put him on the table.”

He and his friend do as they are told and lift me with little to no effort. I try to fight them off, thinking I can do it myself, but they don’t move away. After they set me down, Maeve thanks them, and they leave with their wheelchair.

“Hey, Maeve,” I say, breaking the ice.

She ignores my greeting as she slips her gloves on. “Took a fall, I see.” Her thumbs press into the area around my cut, and I hiss. “Does that hurt?” she asks, keeping her eyes on my wound.

“Yeah, a little bit,” I lie, needing to keep up my bravado.

Maeve goes to her big black bag and rummages through until her hand is full of medical supplies. “Can you lay down?” she asks, once again avoiding eye contact. “Make sure your injured leg is close to the edge.” She returns the table and examines my leg once more. I can’t take my eyes off her. It’s not because I’m fascinated by what she’s doing, but because she’s so damn beautiful.

“So, where’d you go after graduation?” I ask, figuring this is a great opening line.

Instead of answering, she pours something onto my leg, which makes me groan out in pain.

“This might sting a bit.”

Now she tells me.

“Hold still, please,” she says as she shows me the longest set of tweezers I have ever seen.

Holy shit.

“Um, what are you doing with those?”

“Pulling the rocks out of your wound. If they don’t come out, they might cause you serious damage once the cut heals.”

“Oh,” is all I can say. I decided that I should lay back while Maeve’s working. Watching her makes my stomach queasy. I make another attempt at small talk, but she ignores me each time I ask her a question.

Once she has the bandage in place, she tells me I can go. I sit up and slide down the table until my feet touch the ground. I wince and let out a yelp. Maeve turns and looks at me and then down at my wound.

“Did you do something else to your knee?”

I start to shake my head but stop when she’s crouched down in front of me. All I can think about is a nasty crotch odor because I’ve been sweating. Teddy and Dotty’s words come running back to me, reminding me that I stink.

“Uh, maybe I should sit back down.” I heave myself back onto the table and marvel at the fact that Maeve barely moves and continues to assess my knee. She starts poking around my kneecap with her thumbs and slides her hand down my leg to lift it.

“What happened to make you fall?” she asks.

“I had some pain. I might have heard a pop.”

Still, she won’t look at me.

“How often do you run on the pavement?”

Never. “All the time.”

Maeve continues to work on my leg, pushing and moving, and each movement causes me pain, but I don’t let her know. She steps away and then says, “Cameron to Wilcox,” into the radio device attached to her shirt’s shoulder.

Tags: Heidi McLaughlin The Dating Romance
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