Six years later, Willa rushed Sawyer through his stretches.
“Turn over, please,” she said, hating to short-shrift him on the stretching, but suddenly needing to get out of there.
However, Sawyer just laid there, stiff as a board.
“Turn over please,” she repeated.
He hesitated some more, but finally lifted up. She watch his muscles ripple underneath his thin t-shirt as he turned over…to reveal a tent inside of his sweat shorts.
One so huge, it made her whole body heat. But not with embarrassment. With memory. A memory so powerful, she didn’t realize she was staring until he said, “I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay,” she somehow managed to wheeze out, her mouth now dry as a desert. “It happens.”
Which was true enough. However, when it’d happened before with patients, she’d quickly and efficien
