Wedding Date with the Army Doc by Lynne Marshall

he’d seen her chest. That’s pretty extreme, Charl, and to think it wasn’t even necessary. Who was she kidding? It wasn’t just what he’d said but the shocked, nearly horrified and unaccepting expression that had accompanied it. Pain radiated through her chest as all these thoughts and memories flashed past in less than a second. Think fast! He’s waiting for a response to his comment. “That you’re not perfect? I think I already knew that, Doctor, the day you said you didn’t like my all-time-favorite chocolate bars.”
    He laughed, and she felt good about dismantling the bomb he’d expected to leave her with.
    Then, like the fact he was missing part of a leg meant nothing, they forgot about it and ran on, Jackson prodding her along and scooping her away from another zombie attack as they closed in on the last half-kilometer mark. For someone who hadn’t trained, she’d make sure to finish this race if it killed her, rather than let her new running partner down.
    â€œI take it you run a lot,” she said, having to gasp the words since she was so out of breath.
    â€œIt’s the best stress reliever I know.”
    â€œHey, Dr. Hilstead, isn’t this your second time around?” one of the OR techs called from the crowd on the sidelines as they approached the finish line.
    â€œI’m helping my friend be safe from the zombies,” he shouted back.
    â€œWait, so you’ve already finished this race?”
    â€œI ran the ten kilometers.” He looked straight ahead, rather than rub it in with a self-satisfied look.
    Yeah, I run five in my sleep. She mocked how she figured what his smug thoughts were about now, though using the last of her quickly disappearing breath. Now she’d have to finish this race even if she had to crawl over the line, just to save face.
    He laughed again, and she was happy a guy who’d taken a big chance and shown the entire hospital his secret was in such a good mood. She hoped she’d had something to do with it, too, because she wanted to think the biggest risk he’d taken had been with her reaction. That would make her special, and she’d passed with flying colors. She hoped so anyway. Was she special?
    â€œGot any steam left?” he asked. “Let’s finish strong.”
    She understood the “let’s” meant “her” and he wanted her to kick it up for the next several meters. Typical guy. Show him a finish line and he’d have to make a run for it.
    She nodded, lying, and pushed into a sprint, well, her version of a sprint anyway—no hint of form, arms nearly flailing and her feet kicking up in a girlie run way behind her. But in her world she finished strong, simply because she finished!
    He grinned and grabbed her shoulder again, this time not scaring the life out of her but guiding her to the SAG station for water and a banana. Her knees were wobbly, she gulped for air, and her pulse tore through her chest, but other than that she felt great.
    â€œGood job, Dr. Johnson!” several of the hospital volunteers said in unison.
    She wasn’t able to speak just yet, so she smiled and sipped some water to prove she was still alive. Jackson stood there grinning at her, his chest hardly moving, only a sheen of exertion on his skin. She, on the other hand, was sweating big fat drops, her sports bra with the “natural-looking” silicone padding nearly sliding out of place. He nabbed a towel from the volunteers’ table and put it around her neck.
    â€œThanks.” She could finally talk.
    â€œYou did great.”
    â€œYou made me.”
    â€œThen I’m glad I found you.”
    Oh, the things she could imagine with that statement. I’m glad I found you. Wait, he’d been looking for her? Further proof he might be interested, and now that she’d passed the test, why not go for it? She’d finished the run, was now high on