As her hands wandered to his jaw and stoked his soft beard, her fingertips delighted at the texture of his hair. He was the first man with facial hair she had kissed, and she found the sensation titillating.
He slowed his ardent advances, kissing and caressing her lovingly and gently. When his lips released hers, he pressed them to her forehead and held still.
With a forced exhale, he released her. Stepping back, he whistled a long breath and said, “Sorry. That shouldn’t have happened.” He hauled himself a few steps away. “I don’t get involved with anyone related to my business, not clients, not parents, not mothers or sisters of my athletes—not any longer. It won’t happen again.” He retreated.
“Jacob, it’s okay, I—”
“So I’ll leave this playbook with you.” He collected his jacket and reached for the doorknob. “See you at practice.” The door closed behind him.
What happened? I won’t be at the next practice—and I didn’t get a chance to tell him. He’ll think I’m making an excuse after that kiss—and his rejection. Ugh!
Chapter Six
Jacob
Jacob made his way through the gym to the basketball court for his Friday afternoon practice. Persistent thoughts of seeing Olivia again created an unfamiliar nagging ball in his gut. After the stupid move he made on her last weekend, he was genuinely relieved when she texted why she’d miss practice on Tuesday.
One hundred times he scolded himself. Irresponsible mistake. Why did I kiss her? It breaks all the rules. He didn’t want things to be weird between them. Besides, she’s definitely not my type. And yet…she felt amazing in his arms—as if her curves were molded for his hands alone. Oh, and her mouth, from the kissable bow shape to the forbidden nectar within…do bees become as intoxicated with their honey? His unquenchable curiosity to taste her lips had made him lose control. He sampled the forbidden fruit…but he must forget it. It wouldn’t happen again. Couldn’t…
Entering the lower level of the building, he noted a few boys warming up. He scanned the room for her, unable to shake the memories of what had happened. She looked so damn cute with crumbs on her shirt and chocolate smeared on the corner of her mouth, smelling sweet and irresistible…but I don’t date women from this gym. He wiped his mind of her and barked, “Logan, tuck your elbow.”
“Okay, Coach,” Logan responded.
Within a few minutes the rest of the team showed up, laced up their sneakers, and began warm up drills. Olivia and Dylan walked in together.
“Hi, Coach,” Olivia said cheerfully, without a sign of awkwardness in her voice.
She wasn’t making things weird between them. That gave him pause—perhaps he wasn’t her type either. Well aware of her presence from the moment she walked into the gym, he said casually, “Oh, hey.”
Despite his heroic efforts to appear unfazed by her company through the practice, he was on edge. He yelled at her unnecessarily, unable to get a grip on his emotions. Mouth in a flat line, brows slanted inward, he gave the group some final advice as they wrapped up a grueling dribbling exercise, then dismissed them.
“Great job, guys. I’ve baked up something special for you,” Olivia called to the team. The boys gathered around her for an expected treat.
Pulling his phone from his pocket, Jacob hung back on the court. At the bench, where a large container of cookies waited, he overheard Dylan telling Olivia he’d be riding home with Sam.
“Okay, but make sure you text Mom and let her know,” she reminded her brother. “Or else I’ll hear about it.”
Dylan half shrugged. “I will.” He grabbed a handful of cookies and joined Sam as the boys left the building.
She glanced up and caught Jacob’s eye, offering him a container of what looked like another attempt at oatmeal cookies. He shook his head and turned his attention to his emails. In minutes the gym emptied out. She gathered up the container, preparing to leave.
“You should give up on baking those things. The boys don’t need sugar and empty calories. Besides, if they taste anything like the last batch, I’m sure they don’t want them,” he said.
“Ouch!”
He swallowed. “Sorry, but you know what I mean.”
“I’ll have you know I’ve perfected those oatmeal cookies, and they are delicious and nutritious.”
He almost smirked at her adorable sassy posture, but instead he murmured, “I’ll have to take your word for it.” He glanced at his phone, not seeing the content. He used the time to rein in his thoughts. “Did you get a chance to review the playbook?”
“I did, but I was out of town most of the week.”
He snipped, “Yeah, it didn’t seem like it. Every time you told them to pass, I wanted them driving to the hole. And then you wanted to rename one of my plays?” He held up a hand in utter disbelief.
“I thought Box made more sense. Maybe the players would remember it easier,” she explained.
Tapping his phone against his palm, he said, “If you don’t have time for this team, maybe you should step aside. I’m sure I can find another volunteer. Or do it myself.” Immediately regretting his words and undone by the floored look on her face, he clenched his jaw. Why am I being such a dick? Sure, he was strict when it came to his business and the team, but to be downright mean to Olivia, who was here volunteering her time, was uncalled for and ridiculous.
She about-faced in silence and loaded the food container into her bag. With her cute behind to him, she kicked off her sneakers and stuffed them into a separate compartment.
He walked in a circle. I should apologize. He circled again. No, I’ve had to continually correct her instructions to the boys. It infuriated him when she called the opposite play of what he wanted the team to do—still, after several weeks! She didn’t know squat about basketball! She should not have volunteered in the first place. And most importantly, it would be best for his psyche if she quit. He jammed his phone into his pocket and stormed away.
He trudged toward a basketball abandoned on the court and bent to pick it up. He paused, squeezing it in his palms. In one swift movement he pivoted and half-courted the shot. The long shot looked good as it arched down the court. The ball narrowly missed. Instead, it ricocheted off the rim and, all too fast, flew in Olivia’s direction.
She zipped her bag and straightened, rotating toward the ball. Jacob shouted a warning precisely as it hit her in the head. He winced at the hard thud.
She dropped.
He bolted, but it was like running in deep, sucking mud; his feet couldn’t move fast enough. Knees crashing against the wood floor, he slid to her side. Angst flared in his lungs, making it difficult to breathe. He prayed he hadn’t knocked her out.
The basketball courts were quiet, except for the ball bouncing away and his galloping heart. Cradling her head in his lap, he called to her. “Olivia, can you hear me?”
To his immense relief, her eyes blinked open. She winced, reaching for her head. “Aahoww! What happened?”
“You were knocked out by the ball. Are you okay? Can you sit up?” he asked, gauging her response.
“I think I’m okay.” She sat up with his assistance and blinked rapidly, her fingertips stretching across her forehead. “I have a pounding headache. Do you have any ibuprofen?”
“Shit! I’m taking you to the emergency room. You may have a concussion.” As he helped her to her feet, she leaned heavily against him.
“No, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” After stepping on his foot, she seemed to realize she couldn’t walk straight and pointed to her gym bag.
“It’s all right. I’ve got you. I’ll get your stuff.” He veered the staggering woman, who clung to his shirt, a few feet to the bench. He shouldered her bag, then maneuvered her over to collect his. Luckily, his car keys were in his duffle.
They exited and crossed the lot to his Porsche. He leaned her against the metallic blue paint and fished for his keys, oblivious to the cold. Once he helped her inside, he tossed the bags in the backseat.
“Maybe you could just take me home. I’ll rest. And I could really use some ibuprofen,” she reminded him.
“I don’t want to give you anything until a doctor sees you.” Tense, he zipped into traffic and whizzed around cars.
“Jacob,” she whimpered.
“We’ll be at the hospital in a couple of minutes.”
“I’m not feeling too well.”
“I’m an idiot for being hard on you. I shouldn’t have said—”
“Pull over!”
“We’re almost there. The entrance is at the next intersection.”
But it was too late.
Olivia’s body convulsed, and her head snapped forward as vomit spewed from her throat, covering the leather dashboard and carpet.
My car! The thought evaporated as quickly as it came. “Honey, it’s okay. You’ll be okay.”
Wiping her lips with the back of her right hand, she peeked at him with tears in her eyes. “Jacob, I’m so sorry.”
“Shh, honey. Don’t worry about it. I’ll have it detailed. Just hold on.” He gripped her left hand, saddened at how badly it trembled.
The emergency room parking lot was crowded, but he scored a fairly close spot. He jumped out, rounded the hood, and helped her out. Before they moved, he reached into the backseat and grabbed his zip-front sweatshirt. Wrapping it around her shivering frame, he then guided her inside through the automatic doors.
The hospital receptionist scanned them with a discerning eye and said, “Have a seat. Is this your husband?”
“Ah, no, we…we work together,” he answered.
The receptionist nodded and typed rapidly. “I’ll need your medical information, miss.”
Olivia slouched in the chair provided. He sat beside her, still holding her freezing hand. She looked pale, small, and vulnerable wrapped in his bulky sweatshirt. A red welt emerged from her forehead.
“Jacob, my insurance card is in my wallet. It’s in my gym bag.”
On his feet in a second, he said, “I’ll get it. I’ll be right back.” After giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, he dashed away.
He returned, and the receptionist filled out the necessary forms. “You can take a seat over there.” The woman pointed to an area featuring several suspended television screens and rows of chairs.
“How soon will she be seen?” Jacob asked.
“It will be a while, sir.”
They circled the room before finding two empty seats together. For two hours until the nurse arrived, she rested her head on his shoulder.
“Come with me, folks. My name is Tina, and I’ll be your nurse,” said the burly, red-cheeked woman who led them to the main triage area. The nurse settled Olivia onto a bed positioned between two knee-length curtains. While she took Olivia’s temperature and blood pressure, he stood on the opposite side, gripping the bed rail.
“What brings you in tonight?” Tina asked.
“I, er…a basketball hit her on the head, and she’s complaining of a pounding headache. Also, she vomited about two hours ago.” Jacob crossed his arms, suddenly aware of the coolness in the room. He’d left the gym in shorts and a t-shirt. But his discomfort didn’t matter. All he cared about was Olivia. She was lying in a hospital bed because of him. Because of his immature rant and behavior.
“I’ll get you some water and something to make you more comfortable until the doctor comes.” Tina covered her with a blanket and slipped between the bed and curtain.
“Um, Jacob, maybe you should call my mother. My phone’s in my bag. It’s under ‘Mom.’”
Of course, she would want family nearby, not him hovering, a man who’d kissed her and then told her he couldn’t be involved with her. He found her phone and stepped beyond the curtain to make the call. Minutes later he returned to her side. “She’s on her way.”
“You don’t have to stay. Mom will make arrangements for me.”
Arrangements seemed a non-emotional word. “I’ll wait until she gets here.”
“I’ll be fine. Please. You should go.”
“No. I’ll wait.” He took a seat, glancing up at the small television. It displayed a news station, the volume low; the captions scrolled across the bottom of the screen.
The nurse returned with ibuprofen, administered the meds, and left. Olivia lay in silence with her eyes closed for a long while until the medicine seemed to kick in.
Thirty minutes later a doctor stopped by, read the chart, and asked several questions about how the incident occurred. The doctor asked her to stand, and he performed several pressure tests, followed by a vision check.
As she returned to the bed and relaxed as best she could against the linens, the doctor said, “That’s a nice egg on your forehead. I think you have a mild concussion. What do you do for work?”
“I’m a flight attendant.”
The doctor nodded, observing her through rimmed glasses. “I want you to take it easy, complete rest, for a week. Limited physical activity. Your best recovery is complete brain rest. After the week you can start returning to mild to moderate cognitive activities as your concussion symptoms fade. No television, electronic screens, reading—things of that nature.”
“I can’t work for a week?” She sounded worried. When she glanced at Jacob, his expression must have revealed his torment. At the doctor’s nod, she added, “Sounds boring.”
Guilt surged again in Jacob’s gut as she tried to make light of the situation. She roused a grin from the doctor, and Jacob felt even worse.
“Any questions?” the doctor asked as the nurse appeared at his elbow. With nothing further to add, he concluded, “I’ll have Tina schedule a follow-up in seven days with your primary doctor. If everything is good, your doctor will clear you to work. Also, Tina will prepare your discharge paperwork and review it with you.”
As the nurse and doctor walked away, a woman arrived, partially hidden behind the curtain. “Olivia! I got here as soon as I could. My goodness! What happened?”
Jacob didn’t like the woman’s accusing tone. It engaged his protective instincts. He stood, making his presence known.
Mrs. Ward’s tailored wool coat and high heels indicated she’d come from somewhere special. Through the heavily applied makeup, he tried to find a resemblance. The mother and daughter shared similar facial features, yet in a single moment he detected that was their only similarity. Mrs. Ward looked good for her age. Fine lines around her eyes were minimal, but the harshness in her gaze and the pinching around her lips revealed a deeper story. One glance at Olivia’s grim face told him things didn’t sit well between them.
Chapter Seven
Olivia
“Hi, Mom.” She mustered a halfhearted smile. “I’m fine. Thanks for coming.”
“Mm hmm. I received a phone call from a stranger that you were hurt. Hit in the head by a basketball and might have a concussion?” Cecilia Ward flicked her gloved hands in the air. “See? You shouldn’t have gone ahead with your silly idea of coaching. You know you’re such a klutz.”
The medication had given her some relief, but her head throbbed again with a dull intensity. She avoided Jacob’s gaze, sorry he had stayed to witness how her mother treated her.
“Dylan’s coach called you. We coach together,” she clarified.
“Mrs. Ward. I’m Jacob Dodge. It’s nice to meet you.”
Cecilia lifted her chin, admiring the man as she plucked off her burgundy leather gloves. “Oh, Mr. Dodge. It’s nice to meet you as well—even under these circumstances. I’m sorry you had to go through all this trouble.” Stepping forward, she held out her manicured hand. “Please call me Cecilia.”
They clasped hands briefly, Jacob leaning toward her over the bed. “No trouble at all. I just want to make sure she’s okay. I threw the ball that hit her.”
He straightened and placed his hand on Olivia’s arm. Guilt and regret broadcasted across his handsome face.
He hadn’t left her side. Nor had he mentioned that she’d ralphed in
his Porsche.
Her best smile on her lips, Olivia said, “It was an accident. I’m feeling much better now.” She glanced between him and her mother. “Doctor said it’s a mild concussion. I just need a ride home. I’ll sleep it off.”
“Thank goodness.” Cecilia’s phone rang, and she slipped it from her purse, silencing the ringer as several nurses glared in her direction. “It’s your father,” she said before answering. She assured him Olivia would live. After hanging up, her shoulders drooped, and she sighed.
“Here, Mrs. Ward—why don’t you sit down?” He offered her the seat behind him and shifted to the curtain’s edge.
She seemed pleased with him. “You are a thoughtful young man. It’s been a long day. I came directly from a banquet in Haverhill to celebrate women in business. I own my own dermatology practice.”
“It’s late, and since it’s already…” he glanced at his phone, “eleven, why don’t you head home? I’ll take Olivia to her place. It’s no trouble. We’re still waiting for the discharge papers. It may be awhile.”
Olivia frowned. Boy, can he turn on the charm!
“Well, I do have an early yoga class in the morning.” She considered, but then she seemed to remember her daughter was lying there, hurt. “Mmm, I should stay.” Her lack of conviction was plain as day. This didn’t surprise Olivia in any way, but Jacob seemed distressed.
“How about this? I have to run out to my car and clean up a little spill. Could you keep her company until I return? And then I’ll take it from there.”
“I could do that,” Cecilia chirped.
“Great, I’ll be back in a bit.”
The moment he disappeared, Cecilia laid into her daughter. “This is why I don’t like sports.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Sports and injuries—they go hand in hand! You take too many risks with your life.”
“That’s ridiculous! I work and have fun like everyone else.”
Defying Gravity (Landing in Love Book 1) Page 5
