“I don’t care if you’re paralyzed, you need to walk out of here and make those paparazzi believe you are totally one hundred percent. The hot bartending nurse understands that, right?”

“What’d you call me? And understand what?”

Duke sighed. “He’s saying he wants you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

“Wha—Oh. You want the reporters to think Duke came to see me.”

“Right-o. She smart, Duke.” Aaron rocked up and down on his two-thousand-dollar heels. “Angel, no offense, but I saw you lay one on our man here. A famous pitcher. VIP. Beloved by the people. This should be your dream come true. He’s the perfect date, right?”

“Are you serious?” Her hands clenched. How dare he talk to her that way? Besides, Duke might be the perfect date, but he is not the perfect man. How can someone so talented and wealthy be so messed up?

“Aaron, shut up.” Duke turned to Angel, stepping between the two of them. He glanced down at her closed fists and put his hand out to her. “He’s a jerk. He can’t help it.”

His fingers were warm, wrapped around her hand. She yanked free. I’m not about to get sucked into him again.

Dr. Collins strode in with the X-rays just in time to see her pull away from Duke. Irritation flitted across his face. The small room grew smaller. Angel composed herself, tried to get back her professional demeanor, and began cleaning up the wrappers and extra gauze, straightening the exam room counters. I’m all business, Dr. Collins. Nothing to see here.

The doctor hung the films on the light box and flipped the switch. “You’re not broken, Duke. See? Whole bones. Like I said, the muscles damaged by the gunshot wound are taking their time to heal completely. You can see the wound is closed and knitted back together. You simply need to let the muscles have more time to strengthen. You tweaked them good. We should put on a cast as a precaution.”

“Nope. Not happening. Thanks for your time, Doctor. Let’s go, Aaron.” Duke turned to Angel. “Coming?”

She felt her face redden. “Are you crazy?”

He put his hand out to her again, this time palm up. “Maybe. But I need you. If you can walk outside with me, let the press take your picture, and pretend like we’re going on a date, you’ll be saving my career.”

“No way. Besides, what’s it matter if they find out now or next week that your ankle is sprained?”

Duke’s voice was steel. “I will be ready for practice. End of story.”

Aaron butted in. “You thought it was broken, Duke? It hurts that bad?”