I fought to keep my attention on his injuries, summoning the professional doctor area of my brain. The bruising went all the way down to the top of his thigh. “Did they x-ray your hip?”

“They x-rayed fucking everything,” he said. “I was there for hours.”

“Okay, you can, um, pull your pants up. I’ve seen enough.”

“Have you?” he asked with a smug grin.

Christ on a crawdad. This man…

“Pull ‘em up, Broxton, or I might decide you need an ice bath,” I retorted smartly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, pulling up his shorts to cover the promised land, but the bulge was still clearly visible. And what a fine bulge it was.

Feeling him watching my face the entire time I was wrapping his ribs, I received a tingle every time my fingers brushed against his warm, smooth flesh, and by the time I had finished, we both had a fine sheen of perspiration coating our faces and necks. I had him move his arms and bend in different directions to see how much pain he was in, but he didn’t so much as wince.

“Would it be weird if I said I don’t even mind being injured because I got to feel your hands on me?” he asked in a low, sexy voice.

“If you want to be injured, I could get Carrie to come kick you in the chicken nuggets,” I said dryly.

He burst out laughing. “She seems like she’s quite a character.”

“You have no idea,” I said with an eye roll.

“Would you still be willing to come over and talk to me about her? I know I fucked up, but I really want to know everything, Blaire.” I looked up at him, and his eyes were more sincere and serious than I had ever seen them. I nodded, and he pressed, “Tonight after the game?”

“Okay, where’s your phone? You can put my number in right now, so you don’t lose it this time,” I teased.

“It’s in my locker. You can go get it and put the number in if you want.”

“I will after I make sure everyone is taped and wrapped. I’ll do it when y’all go out for pre-game. Do you have a passcode on your phone?”

Axel froze, his spine stiffening, and said nervously, “Uh, yeah. Why don’t we just wait until after the game, and I’ll put it in myself?”

Hmmm. There was obviously something on his phone he didn’t want me to see. Texts from other women? Pictures? Was he so arrogant that he thought I would actually care? Did I actually care?

Newsflash: YES! I did.

Dammit, why should I give a shit what was on his phone? We hadn’t been together for over five years. He could screw anyone he wanted and probably had. “Fine,” I said tightly, turning to go.