"Take your pants off and spread your legs a bit."
The curtain in the ER swished open, and a tall man stepped in, backlit by the hallway lights. He had a medical mask on, only revealing a pair of deep, unreadable eyes that landed straight on Samantha Bennett.
"Sorry, what?" Samantha blinked, thinking she might’ve misheard. Take off her pants? Really? And just… spread her legs?
Was this some weird kind of checkup? Sure, he had the scrubs and gloves, looked like a real doctor—but the request seemed a bit much…
"If you don't take them off, how am I supposed to check the injury?" he replied while slipping on a pair of latex gloves.
"Alright…" Samantha said reluctantly, feeling more than a little awkward about stripping down in front of a complete stranger, even if he was in a lab coat.
She slowly pulled her pants down. The man didn’t say another word, but his fingers—cool and sure—touched her swollen ankle as he pressed carefully.
"Does it hurt here? Or...here?" His tone was neutral, fingers moving gently upward as he felt along her knee and calf.
Still, something about his touch felt oddly familiar. Not quite inappropriate, just… too personal for an ER visit.
"I think... It's just above the knee. Like it's twisted or something," she murmured, her voice shaking slightly.
He gave a nod, straightening up. "We'll need to check your ligaments and meniscus. Lie back, raise your leg, and rest it at my side."
She froze. Wasn't that a little... intimate?
"What's wrong?" the man asked, leaning in just enough that his voice lowered—and suddenly, there was a subtle tension to his tone. A strange mix of teasing and control lingered under the mask. "Feeling awkward?"
Samantha’s heart skipped. She clenched the hospital sheet under her fingers, unsure if it was the pain or something else making it hard to breathe.
Her voice was sharp as she snapped, "Doctor, can you please stay professional? I'm here for a leg injury, not… whatever this is."
But instead of backing off, he took a step closer, those intense eyes locking onto her like he could see through everything—her hesitation, her flustered thoughts.
He raised his arm, adjusting the overhead light, but the movement brought him even closer, almost like he was pulling her into an embrace.
"I am being professional," he said, voice low and steady, eyes now flicking toward her slightly quivering lips. "Lifting your leg and relaxing the muscles helps assess the damage more accurately. Samantha, what's really on your mind?""What do you think I'm thinking?" Samantha was completely stumped by his question. Her face felt like it was on fire, and her heart thudded like crazy in her chest.
Wait a second—how did he even know her name?
She used her insurance card at check-in, and doctors usually only confirm the last name.
So how did he call her by her full name… did he know her?
The man had a mask on, so his full face was hidden, but even with the white coat in the way, the broad build of his body made her feel oddly familiar.
Then, just like getting struck by lightning, a wild and impossible thought exploded in her head.
"You…" Samantha's eyes widened in shock. For a brief moment, even the pain and embarrassment took a backseat. The words left her mouth before she could stop them: "You're Noah Avery?"
Noah Avery. The man she just married yesterday.
They'd decided to get married out of the blue that afternoon.
No wedding. No party. Didn’t even tell anyone about it.
After a quick ceremony at the chapel, her so-called brand-new husband threw out a rushed “There’s an emergency at the hospital. I’ll call you later,” then jumped into his Bentley and drove off, leaving her standing there alone.
Later that day, feeling all kinds of weird, she'd gone home and then somehow tripped in her little garden...
And now—this. Here she was.
The man didn’t deny it. Instead, he slowly raised his hand and pulled the mask off his face, like he had all the time in the world.
And there it was—that face. Sharp lines, stupidly handsome, with a high-bridged nose, thin, sexy lips, and a jawline that could cut glass.
There was the smallest quirk to Noah’s lips, almost a smirk. “Just now recognizing your husband? Seems like Mrs. Avery needs to work on her skills.”
“…” Samantha was completely dumbfounded, her brain just refused to process anything.
It really was him. Her just-married, already-missing husband.
He was a doctor? And not just any doctor, but one working at this hospital?
And right now, he was the one checking her leg injury—and had even told her to rest it on his waist?
Noah glanced at her flushed face, and something like silent laughter flickered in his eyes.
“So,” he said, calmly watching her, his gaze sliding between her red face and the injured leg. “Are we good to proceed with the check-up now, Mrs. Avery?”
Samantha stared in disbelief at his extended hand.
Was she really supposed to pick up her throbbing leg and place it on the waist of this man who was technically her husband... but basically a stranger?
Or should she just grab her stuff and run for it?
