He slowly slid back from the table and stood, grateful when he didn’t sway. “If you don’t get the hell out of my house—”
“You’ll what?” Her blue eyes glittered with determined defiance.
“I will call the cops and have your ass thrown in jail.”
He towered over her. His entire body shook, but whether from his fury or just barely being able to stay upright, he wasn’t sure. She stood her ground, not an ounce of surrender in her stance. She poked him in the chest and notched her chin higher.
“On what charges?”
“Trespassing.”
“You invited me to stay. My stuff is in the guest room.” Another tap to his pectoral. “Try again.”
He stepped around her, heading to the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower. When I get out, you’d better be gone.”
“No.”
He whirled around to confront her, to show her exactly how much he wanted her to get out of his house. That was his intent. However, when he spun, once again, the room did as well. His knees went weak. His stomach pitched. He shoved his left hand out, hoping to ease the inevitable impact with the floor.
“Xavier!” Strong, yet soft hands grabbed him. A small feminine body braced itself against his side. Her arm wrapped around his waist and held on tight. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
He kept his eyes closed and breathed deeply through his nose. The world stopped spinning, and though he tried not to, he leaned into Frankie, accepting her assistance. Just this once. He straightened and cracked a lid. When the merry-go-round didn’t start again, he groaned.
“I need a shower.”
“Xavier, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Really?” He purposely rubbed his pit on the top of her head. “Wedged where you are, you’re still gonna give me that? I reek, Doc. Tilt your nose up a bit.”
She snorted. An exhale, he noted.
“I want a shower.”
“Why don’t you lie down on the bed and I’ll get everything together for a sponge bath.”
“Oh, hell no.” He waved a hand, shaking his head in violent jerks.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Even if you didn’t have stitches to keep dry, you couldn’t stand up long enough to get yourself clean.”
She was probably right. Probably. But he’d be damned if he’d give in. He wanted a hot date … with his shower. Now.
He shrugged her off and stumbled in the direction of the bathroom. Her shrieked protests and irritated footsteps followed him. He ignored both. By damn, he was an adult man, fully capable of taking a shower. He’d been doin’ it for years.
“Xavier. Stop!” She grabbed hold his arm.
He paused only because he’d made it to the doorway, his feet chilly against the tile. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a shower now.”
“How exactly do you plan on keeping your stitches dry?”
“I don’t.”
“Dammit, Xavier! You have to keep those stitches dry for a couple more days.”
“I’ll manage.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
He turned just in time to see her cross her arms over her chest.
“Really?” He laughed, feeling true humor. “And how exactly to you plan on stopping me?”
“I’ll … um … well, then I’d have to—” Color flushed her cheeks and Xavier tried not to smile. Tried and failed. She narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “Be reasonable.”
“I stink. I want a shower. I don’t feel like being reasonable.”
Her hands formed fists at her sides, her jaw locked closed and her lips all but disappeared. She closed her eyes. Seconds ticked by. Ten of them, if Xavier counted correctly. Her eyes flipped open and she sighed.
“Okay. Fine. You want to get wet. I understand.” Another deep breath. “I propose a compromise.”
“I’m listening.” He didn’t promise to agree. Her scowl suggested she’d caught that fact.
“A bath.”
“We already discussed this. No sponge bath.”
“Not a sponge bath, X. A bath.”
“What? Now you think I’m two?” His sharp bark of laughter made her jump.
“What’s with you assuming I think you’re anything but the stubborn, too-handsome-for-your-own-good, frustratingly irritating man you are?”
His heart jumped in his chest and he grinned. “You think I’m handsome?”
“Shut up.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I am offering to help you into the bathtub, where you’ll sit in nice warm water and get clean. So you don’t reek anymore.”
“You gonna wash my back?” He winked. “Or my front?”
Another quick shake of her head. “If you’ll sit your ass in the bathtub, and forget the freakin’ shower, I’ll wash whatever you want.”
He jogged his eyebrows. “Really?”
The tinge of pink in her cheeks totally discredited her scoff. “Where are your swim trunks?”
He placed a hand over his heart. “Oh, man, you really know how to disappoint a guy.”
Her giggle sounded brittle and he couldn’t help but smile. He’d rattled her. It hadn’t been his intention to flirt with her, but damn, messing with her was even better.
She stomped to the dresser and yanked open the top drawer. He knew what would greet her and chuckled when she shook her head. What could he say, he believed in being safe and he needed a place to store his collection.
The next drawer down would reveal a whole lotta boxer briefs, mostly black. Then she’d find t-shirts, tank tops, workout shirts. One drawer lower and …
She smiled victoriously. Just like he knew she would, she’d found his swim trunks, three pairs, along with a jockstrap or two—or ten.
Normally Xavier was a private guy. He didn’t even bring women back to this place. His domain. His personal space. But for some reason having Frankie pawing through his very personal space didn’t bother him a bit. In fact, he kinda liked having her here. Except when she turned all pushy and demanding.
He blinked and reached out to catch the trunks she threw at him.
“Do you need help putting those on?”
“If you’re gonna help me put these on, then why don’t I just stay naked?” Then it dawned on him. “Wait a second. You’re not gonna let me bathe alone, are you?”
“Nope. Now put on those trunks. I’ll start the water and you holler when you’re ready. I’ll come back out to help you get in the tub.”
“Then what?”
“Then … we’ll deal with that then.”
“Oh, good hell, Doc.”
“Don’t fight me on this.”
In that moment she reminded him of a bulldog with a bone. She was determined to get her way, and the harder he fought her, the more she dug her heels in. He wouldn’t win this battle with her. And the truth was, he was kinda exhausted. If he kept fighting her, he might end up getting a damned sponge bath.
The water turned on and he slipped his fingers into the waistband of his sweats, sending them to the floor. Getting the trunks on using only one hand wasn’t the hardest thing he’d ever tried, but it wasn’t the easiest either. It took a few minutes to get them up his legs and settled onto his hips. He considered tying the strings to hold it in place, only to realize it didn’t matter. Tying a knot or a bow or anything would be impossible one-handed.
With his arm still in the sling and his butt now in the trunks, he slowly made his way to the bathroom. She sat on the edge of the tub, her fingers trailing in the water.
“Okay, Doc. Let’s get this over with.”
She jumped. A yelp accompanied the windmill impersonation she used to keep her from falling into the water.
Did it make him a bastard he was disappointed she didn’t go for a swim?
6
Frankie hadn’t been prepared to see Xavier in his near naked glory. Sure, she’d seen his body before. Hell, at one time she’d seen every slicked-up inch of him. She hadn’t be
en able to get that particular image out of her head. No matter how hard she’d tried. And she was afraid her perverted mind would never release the image standing in front of her either.
Xavier looked great in clothes, but out of them— She swallowed hard. Out of them, he was exquisite. Lots of toned muscles and tanned skin.
One side of his mouth quirked. “You ready for me?”
She pursed her lips, mostly to keep the drool contained in her mouth, and leaned over to turn the water off. “I hope I’ve gotten the temperature right.”
“I’m sure it’s perfect.” He gave her a full on grin that did funny little things to her belly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
“What?”
“You still seem a little woozy and I’m concerned—”
“You’re concerned?”
“I thought you understood. That’s why you’re wearing the trunks.” She waved her hand at the blue and white striped suit, but made sure to keep her eyes on his face. She stepped toward him and wrapped her hand around his strong forearm, urging him inside the suddenly shrinking room. “Let me help you get the brace off and get you into the tub.”
He stood still as a Grecian statue while she made quick work of all the Velcro.
“Be careful not to move it.”
He groaned.
“How does it feel?”
A one-shouldered shrug.
She gripped his elbow and tried to move the mountain. His chest rose and fell with controlled breaths, each gust smacking her in the face with the force of a hurricane. He jerked his arm out of her hold and stepped into the bathtub, unassisted.
As he dipped down into the water, his scowl froze her from the inside out. “Are you just gonna hover over me?”
Instead of snapping back at him, she closed the toilet seat lid and sat down. She looked at her cuticles. Man, she needed a manicure. Examined the grout lines between the floor tiles, the ones right next to the cabinet were larger than the rest. One of the hickory cupboard doors had a knot that kinda looked like a bird’s eye.
A low, annoyed grunt brought her attention back to the shark sloshing in the tub. His smile surprised her. “Sorry for being an ass.”
“But you do it so well.”
He laughed. “Tell me about your family.”
“My family?”
“Yeah, I don’t know much about you, Doc, and I’d like to know about your family.”
She stared at him for a moment, her mind racing. She didn’t want to get personal with him, but found her mouth opening. “It’s just me and my mom.”
“Where’s your dad?”
“He left before I was born.”
“Wish I could have been so lucky.” He bent his leg and ran the bar of soap over this calf then up under the fabric of his trunks to his thigh underneath.
She looked at her nails again and cleared her throat. “You don’t get along with your father?”
“I didn’t, no. He’s gone.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m not.” A lot of men said crap like that, but few meant it. When she met his gaze, not an ounce of remorse dampened his hazel eyes.
“How long has he been gone?”
One massive shoulder lifted in a slow shrug. “A while. Are you and your mom close?”
“Yeah. We still live in my childhood home.” Boy, that made her sound like a real winner.
He smiled and she didn’t have to guess what he’d ask next. “You still live at home? With your mom?”
His laugh caused every inch of her skin to flush a bright red. Of course he’d laugh at her living arrangements. It shouldn’t make her defensive. She didn’t really care about his opinion of her. Couldn’t care less.
“She’s sick,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.
His humor disappeared faster than if she’d slapped the grin off his face. “Is she okay?”
Of all the things she wanted to be discussing with Matthias Xavier, this topic sure as hell wasn’t one of them. She tried to keep her personal life away from Rockets Field. Only a handful of higher-ups knew why she didn’t go on the road with the team. And she’d always intended on keeping it that way.
“She’s fine.”
His stare scorched her, urging her to continue. The next thing she knew, she opened her mouth to explain. “She had polio as a kid. For the most part she’s fine. No issues, except for a slight limp. But sometimes she gets really tired and her muscles ache. Other times she can barely move.”
“Oh, man, Doc, I’m really sorry to hear that.” The sympathy sparkling in his eyes brought tears to hers. She wasn’t usually affected when other people offered compassion. But then … yeah.
***
Frankie got real quiet. He recognized the shutdown because he’d done it himself thousands of times. Obviously talking about her mother wasn’t something she did often, and he’d bet there wasn’t another guy who wore Rockets blue who knew about her residential situation.
“My dad forced my mom to walk away when I was three.”
Her head jerked up, her eyes watery when their gazes clashed. “That’s awful.”
“He paid her to leave.” He shrugged, stamping down the hurt. “And she left.”
“She never tried to contact you?”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “I blamed her for a long time until I realized what he’d done. The bastard got married three more times and drove those wives away, too. When the last one left, I was old enough to know what really happened. My dad thought I was stupid. I wasn’t. I have a half sister I haven’t seen since she was four-years-old.”
“How old were you?”
“Twelve.” He turned the bar of soap over and over in his palm, creating white foam that dripped off to splat on his leg. “I have no idea where she is.”
Silence stretched. Xavier watched as another blob of suds landed on the dark blue of his swim trunks. The tiny bubbles popped until the last one disappeared. He hadn’t talked about how much he missed the sister he’d only known for a few short years. To anyone. Ever.
His heart thudded in his chest and his eyes burned. Memories of his sister flooded back. Vividly. In his mind’s eye he saw her tiny fingers wrapped around his bigger ones, her chubby round cheeks dimpled with a smile, and her dark brown eyes twinkling when she laughed. He still loved her.
“Xavier?”
He blinked and a fat tear slid down his cheek. Well, shit. He’d done it again. He wiped at his eyes and cheeks with his right hand. He winced at a jab of pain in his shoulder, but the pain in his soul was worse, made excruciating because of his audience.
“After my mom left, Grandma took over. She became my world. I loved her.”
“Past tense?” Frankie whispered.
“Uh-huh.” He nodded and kicked his foot out at the water. “She left me when I was fifteen.”
“She left, too?” Her voice went chipmunk in its accusation. “Who are these people? Did your dad pay her off, too?”
“Grandma died.” He chanced a look at her and wished he hadn’t.
Her eyes popped wide. Her cherry red lips fell open. She shook her head. “She didn’t leave you, Xavier. I’m guessing she would have stayed if she could have.”
“I know.”
Unable to deal with her pity a moment longer, he stood. Water rushed down his legs like it’d been dumped from a bucket. The whoosh made Frankie jump. She hurried to stand in front of him, reaching out to steady him. He jerked back and shook his head.
“Frankie, I need some time alone.”
He expected her to argue, to give a thousand reasons why he needed her help, but she only placed a hand against his chest, offered a slight smile, and turned to leave him alone.
“I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
When the door closed with a soft click, he moaned and slid his thumbs—both thumbs—into the waistband of his t
runks and forced them off his hips. Water splashed over the side of the tub. He cursed, then stepped over the edge and dug his pruned toes into the black rug covering the tile.
What the hell was wrong with him? He’d lived a good, long damn time with his emotions in check and under control. Frankie strolled into his life and he turned into a freakin’ chick. He needed to find his mojo, and he was afraid getting his shoulder back in shape would be the only way to do it.
And that meant Frankie wasn’t going anywhere.
Perfect.
Freakin’ perfect.
7
Over the last week, Xavier had managed to keep from crying again. She’d worked his arm, doing pendulum exercises, until he’d laid his tongue to language capable of making a sailor blush. Sailors maybe, but not Frankie.
He’d gotten pretty good at eating with his left hand. Three yellow rectangles floated around his cereal bowl and he fished them out one by one. He heard her coming down the stairs and wondered how long she planned on staying.
“Good morning.” She rounded the corner dressed in scrubs. Again. Did she even own a pair of jeans?
“Mornin’.” He grunted, nodding his head.
Her face was freshly washed, her hair still damp in its tight ponytail. Tennis shoes dangled from her fingers, swaying with her walk. She plopped down into the chair next to him and dropped the shoes to the floor. The bright pink on her toes rivaled Bazooka bubblegum dotted with dainty white flowers. She bent her knee, resting her heel on the edge of her chair. Sliding the white footie sock onto her foot, she looked up at him.
“Are you okay if I leave you alone for a little while?”
His laugh came out a bark. “How old do you think I am?”
She laughed. “Sorry. That didn’t come out right. I won’t be gone long, and you’ve got my cell and—”
“Where you goin’?”
“I have to go to my office and catch up on some paperwork.”
“At the stadium?”
She raised a brow in a silent Duh!
“Can I come?”
Her other brow shot up and she shrugged. “Ah, sure. I didn’t think you’d want to.”
Out of Left Field Page 5
