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Rachel’s initial assessment had been right. The scrape on her knee was nothing. Little kids did worse to their knees every day in playgrounds across the country. As for her hands, the skin was superficially scratched in a few places but that was it.

“What an asshole,” she muttered, finishing her work. “He just came right at you?”

“Yeah,” Rachel confirmed. “Well, he or she. Mister Rogers and I couldn’t tell who was driving.”

“Mister Rogers?” Ainsley asked.

“I didn’t get his real name,” Rachel said before telling Ainsley of the guy who had helped her.

“I get it,” Ainsley said when Rachel was done. “Mister Rogers—the good neighbor. Cute.”

“That’s why you keep me around,” Rachel said. “I’m cute.”

Ainsley laughed.

“I keep you around because you’ve become important to me,” she said, immediately wondering if she had said too much.

Rachel quirked an eyebrow.

“How important?” she asked.

Ainsley stared at her.

“Important enough to want to kill this guy who tried to run you over.”

Both of Rachel’s eyebrows shot up this time.

“Ooh, murder! I must be important to you!”

Ainsley laughed.

“Yep,” she said, “you are.”

Rachel leaned forward and looped her arms around Ainsley’s neck, bringing her face only inches away.

“How important?” she repeated, softly.

Ainsley stared into those brown eyes that were at once playful and searching. She felt as if she was floating now, that Rachel’s eyes were transporting her somewhere blissful, where everything her heart ever wanted would be granted.

“Important enough,” she began, “to not want to have this conversation in a bathroom. I’m sitting on a toilet, for Christ’s sake!”

Rachel laughed.

“Okay,” she said. “You’re off the hook for now.” She brought her face the rest of the way to Ainsley’s and kissed her, her tongue immediately entering Ainsley’s mouth.

When they broke, Rachel said, “Thanks for treating my badly wounded leg. I was worried I’d never dance again.”

“I didn’t know you danced,” Ainsley said. “Consequence of the pandemic: we haven’t been able to go out clubbing.”

“Well, when we do,” Rachel said, “you will see what an amazing dancer I am. You’ll hardly be able to keep your clothes on.”

Ainsley purred, knowing instinctively that Rachel wasn’t doing a bit of empty bragging.

“I can’t wait,” she told her. “But…as your doctor, I can tell you that there is no way we’re going clubbing now or in the immediate future. We may be vaccinated but there are still too many stupid people out there who aren’t and the combination of an enclosed space, lots of sweat and heavy breathing and strangers bumping up against each other is too petri dish for my medical brain.”

Rachel furrowed her brow.

“Yes, Dr. Janowicz,” she said with mock seriousness.