Rock Me Hard

by Casey Hagen

  “Oh, I think you are. I just don’t think that’s all you are. Natalie isn’t a polished product for the masses. She’s all heart. You should let her out every now and then. Embrace her.”

  Nikki did embrace her. She protected her like an army of knights standing guard over a princess in a locked tower.

  “I love what I do,” Nikki said.

  “Oh, no doubt. But I think there’s a part of you that would love to open up and explore a new side of your talent. I’ve seen glimpses. Artists grow and change. There’s nothing wrong with that. I think Natalie Lauren is somewhere in there, and one day she’s going to scream loud enough that you’re going to have no choice but to let her out.”

  “We’re starting to make me sound like a split personality,” Nikki said, taking a gulp of her wine in an effort to drown the words she really wanted to say.

  “Positively certifiable,” Mara said, clinking her glass against Nikki’s with a grin.

  “I had my reasons in the beginning, but now, a lot has to do with you guys. My staff has been loyal. We’ve all found a rhythm. I take the responsibility of keeping you all employed seriously,” Nikki said.

  Mara raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, her green eyes narrowing. “And while I appreciate that, as I’m sure the rest of your team does, we’re big boys and girls and can handle our business. You don’t need to sacrifice yourself for us.” Mara shook her head and waved away the words. “Okay, enough of the heavy shit. If we keep going like this, we’ll be wearing matching bestie bracelets by the time we’re done. So, what are you going to do about the guy?”

  Actually, the matching bestie bracelets didn’t sound half bad to Nikki. “Beats the hell out of me. Maybe the answer is in the wine bottle.” Nikki pushed herself off the couch and fought a groan of agony.

  “You could confront him,” Mara said.

  Nikki snagged the Moscato off the counter and joined Mara back in the living room. “I think that ship sailed. Now I’d just look stupid.”

  “You could put him on blast in front of his staff. Then he’d look stupid.”

  She scrunched her nose and shook her head. “Not my style. It’s a little too high school.”

  “No, I suppose it’s not. You know, you don’t have to go back. There are other chiropractors.”

  “And that would seem cowardly. After all, he pretended he didn’t know me, and if I cancel now, he wins. He’ll know he wounded me, and I can’t live with that,” Nikki said.

  Mara brought her jean-clad knees to her chest and picked at the tear in the fabric stretched over her knee.

  Nikki envied Mara and her ability to run around and just be. She changed her hair almost weekly. Sometimes a new cut, always a new color, and she’d play with styles from the past fifty years with absolute confidence. She wore her hair in a beehive for a week straight while wearing black leather pants, black tank tops, and a heavy skull ring on her middle finger. She held her head high, and no one dared make a comment about her being a walking contradiction in eras.

  “Is he really that important that he’s worth all of this?” Mara asked.

  Memories filled her so fresh that she’d swear she could still smell the faint scent of his cologne and feel the warmth radiating from his tan skin and into her. The look of quiet intensity and fascination on his face when he saw her naked, the secrets she kept from the outside world on display, flashed in her mind, igniting a sharp pang of regret. “He could have been. For the first time in a long time, I really thought he could have been.”

  NIKKI SAT IN THE PARKING lot, the digital clock rolling over to the eleven o’clock hour like an ominous crack of thunder that made her jump.

  “It’s no big deal. He made it clear he wanted to go on as if it never happened. Now you just need to pretend you feel the same,” she muttered to herself as she climbed out of the car.

  The most pitiful part was that she wasn’t entirely sure that she would blow him off if he had changed his mind, which made her pathetic.

  The muscles, while still sore to a degree, moved a whole lot more fluidly than they did before. She made sure she did all the stretches he’d recommended and even researched a few of her own.

  On top of that, she soaked in the tub three times a day.

  Okay, so she used those soaks as a reason to have a glass of wine, but she’d earned it. At least she wasn’t in there, bubbles up to her chin, clutching a bottle of Jack like she wanted to be.

  She climbed out of the car and didn’t even have to stifle a groan as the crisp bite of the air made her shiver. February days came with a fierce chill, especially under the full assault of the sun under a cloudless sky. It was a total contradiction, but hey, that’s what made New England special.

  At this rate, she’d be moving around just fine by the time she had to meet her grandmother for breakfast. She’d managed to play off her limp as a rolled ankle when she walked off stage on Friday night, and her grandmother hadn’t been the wiser.

  Which meant her parents were still blissfully ensconced in their Florida condo watching the waves from their balcony between games of shuffleboard at the clubhouse.

  Nothing was more terrifying than the idea that her grandmother would call them. They’d fly back here, and her mother would be so far up her colon, she’d need a whole different kind of doctor.

  Okay, they loved her. She was their only child, and they’d been terrified for her when a talent agent noticed her and helped propel her to fame. They didn’t want to hold her back, but letting go had been agonizing for them. Not that they showed her, but she heard their hushed conversations behind closed doors, and worse, her mother crying at night.

  And if dredging up those memories were her mind’s way of protecting her from the anxiety of seeing Aiden again, well, her mind could kiss her ass.

  She blew out a breath, lifted her chin, and pulled open the glass door, the heat in the lobby making her cold cheeks sting.

  “Hi, I’m Natalie Lauren. I have an eleven o’clock appointment with Dr. Powell,” she said to the receptionist, who quite possibly had the best silver hair she’d ever seen.

  No one would have qualms about getting gray if their hair lay in a shiny curtain like hers did.

  “Good morning, Miss Lauren. I’ll let him know you’re here. Please, have a seat. Help yourself to coffee, hot chocolate, water, whatever you’d like,” she said, gesturing to the cozy waiting room facing a massive rock fireplace.

  “Thank you,” Nikki said, heading for the hot chocolate. She hadn’t had a chance to see the waiting room the last time. She had been doubled over in agony, and a nurse had come out before she could even check in fully to take Nikki to a treatment room.

  Daytime TV played quietly in the background as she stirred in the packet of hot chocolate mix and pretended she didn’t see her hands shake.

  She had to give him credit, the office was beautiful with its leather furniture, solid, rustic wood tables, and massive windows letting the light spill in and warm the space with a natural glow.

  She wondered what it would feel like to sit here if she were any other patient. At least, one who hadn’t seen the doctor naked.

  Would she find the office a disgusting display of success? Would it seem like they were trying too hard?

  Or would she be grateful that they took care to make their patients as comfortable as possible both in the treatment room and out?

  Maybe if her heart hadn’t lodged right in her throat while her stomach dropped at the idea of seeing him again, she’d have been grateful. Right now though, she couldn’t even bring herself to sit as she sipped her hot chocolate and leaned against the wall, waiting.

  “Miss Lauren, if you’ll come with me,” a dark-haired nurse with a friendly smile said.

  She followed her back, her stomach churning, the little bit of hot chocolate she had consumed sloshing through her nervous gut.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and have a seat on the table, and Dr. Powell will be right with you,” the nurse said wi
th a gesture of her hand and a polite smile.

  “Thanks,” Nikki said, pitching her half-full cup into the trash can and dropping onto the table. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocketbook. Glancing around, she bit her lip and swiped the screen, going right to her gallery and the picture of the two of them still sitting at the top.

  She should just delete it. It was stupid to keep it really. Clearly he wasn’t the man he’d shown her that night, so why would she want to remember him?

  And seriously, he was the one who seemed to have a thing for her, and here she was acting like some silly schoolgirl with a crush.

  A low rap sounded on the door followed by a pause. “Good morning,” he said, glancing down at her chart. “I’m Dr. Powell. It’s nice to...” His gaze met hers, his words drifted off, and electricity snapped in the air around them.

  “We’ve met,” she said, ignoring the way her pulse kicked up with excitement. Where was this breathless elation the other day when he’d first seen her? Or was she in too much pain to recognize it?

  She remembered the indifferent look on his face when he’d first seen her the other day.

  Nope, she wasn’t mistaken.

  So what if her body hadn’t gotten the message yet; her brain did, loud and clear. She dropped her phone back into her purse and tucked it next to her on the floor.

  “Nikki,” he said quietly, narrowing his eyes and studying her.

  Her gaze snapped to his, and she studied him. “So that amnesia of yours is gone, huh?”

  He flinched. The pen fumbled in his hands and he jumped to catch it right before it slid to the floor. “I—what?”

  “Never mind,” she muttered, glancing away. So much for not showing him how his callous dismissal didn’t bother her.

  He took a step toward her and reached over to set her file on the counter. “You look different,” he said. “Not that I don’t like it. I do. Actually, I like it a lot.” He put his hands on his hips, his gaze roaming over her, leaving a trail of heat everywhere it touched.

  “I looked the same when you adjusted me on Saturday as I did Friday night.” She tried to keep the accusation out of her voice. She really did, but despite her best efforts, her wounded pride slinked its way into her voice anyway.

  He shoved a hand through those waves, and she had to fight the urge to sigh.

  “I didn’t adjust you on Saturday,” he said.

  “Very funny. What kind of game are you playing anyway? You know what, it doesn’t matter. Let’s just get this over with.” She lay back on the table and rolled over. “On my stomach first, right?”

  He didn’t say anything, and her skin burned with the heat of embarrassment. She listened to the sound of him opening her folder, the shuffle of papers, and his quiet footsteps in a torturously slow thump as he walked to the head of the table.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched the edges of the vinyl cushion. The squeak of the rolling stool made her jump, and her heartbeat roared in her ears.

  “Nikki. Look at me.”

  “I’d rather not,” she muttered, pressing her forehead to the table. “And stop calling me that. My name is Natalie.”

  “Natalie,” he said, his low, hushed voice close. “I didn’t adjust you. My brother did. My twin brother, Anthony.”

  “What???” She jerked her head up and smacked it right against his chin, the sound of his teeth gnashing together making her cringe. “Oh, God. Are you okay?” she said, shooting to her hands and knees to find him rubbing a hand over his jaw.

  “Well, it’s not broken,” he said with a wounded laugh.

  She sat back on her heels and winced. “I’m sorry. I just—well, when you said—I thought you regretted our night...” she said, fumbling for the words.

  His sharp gaze pierced her. “You’re kidding, right?”

  She rubbed her forehead and the ache that had formed there as her brain tried to straighten it all out. “Well, you were indifferent. Maybe a little chatty—”

  “My brother was indifferent and chatty.”

  “I mean, maybe that could have been construed as flirting; you did wiggle your eyebrows and grin a lot.”

  “My brother wiggled—Jesus,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “You left me,” she whispered. She bit her bottom lip and flinched at the needy words.

  “I got a call. My father had wandered off,” he said, leaning into her.

  “So did you,” she said. She noticed the nuances now between Aiden and his brother. Anthony lacked an intensity that Aiden had in spades. The kind of ferocity in the way he moved and the way he delivered his words that conjured a need in her that thrummed just under the surface.

  And the way they entered the room. Anthony sailed in all smiles and good times. Aiden was more hesitant, quiet, respectful.

  His lips twitched. “You were exhausted. I let you sleep and left you a note.”

  “I didn’t get it,” she said, reaching out to touch his jaw.

  “Clearly,” he said, taking her fingers and bringing them to his lips.

  “So, now what?” she asked, her gaze going straight to the way his mouth roamed over the pads of her fingers.

  “It’s not exactly ethical for me to adjust you,” he murmured as he twirled a finger around one of the curls that sprung free from her messy bun.

  “Your brother—”

  “Is never putting his hands on you in any capacity ever again,” Aiden said, a warning lacing his voice.

  She gulped and bit back a smile.

  Chapter 9

  AIDEN NUDGED HER CHIN, bumped his forehead against hers, and closed his eyes.

  She was here.

  “I didn’t think you wanted to see me again.” The words slipped from his lips in a quiet whisper. There was no mistaking the longing, fear, and relief behind them.

  He’d been a surly pain in the ass waiting—hoping for her call. At least, that’s what Denise had called him not more than an hour ago when she’d marched into his office and snatched back the watermelon Dum Dum she’d left for him.

  “Silly boy,” Nikki murmured, her breath tickling over his lips. “After all, you are the reason I’m here.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, sliding his hand around the nape of her neck and pulling her lips under his for a slow, hot kiss.

  She groaned deep in her throat, the rumble vibrating against his mouth. “Mmmm, my injury,” she said. “All your fault.”

  “Hold that thought,” he said as he disentangled himself, rolled over to her file, and began flipping through it. “You’re the sex injury,” he said with a laugh.

  She turned and sat back, her legs straddling the table. “You say that like it was a topic of conversation in the office,” she said with a glare.

  “No, not at all. You might not want to sit like that for too long,” he said with a nod toward her lap and a shake of his head as he avidly scanned the notes.

  He knew just what position Anthony had her in to stretch out her piriformis muscle; the vivid image in his head had the blood pounding in his ears.

  It’s not that Anthony had ever taken a girl from Aiden. At least not knowingly. There was a laundry list of sins he could lay at Anthony’s feet, but inadvertently torpedoing the budding relationship with Kim early on in medical school wasn’t one of them.

  Kim played them both, only, Aiden’s heart had been involved.

  He wasn’t sure Anthony’s heart had ever been tangled up in a woman. Maybe that’s just what his brother needed.

  While his brother could be a callous asshole, he wasn’t a dog. Poaching Aiden’s territory as Anthony so casually referred to it, would never happen intentionally.

  Despite Anthony’s reassurance, Aiden had learned long ago to mingle in different circles of women and make sure to tell them he had a twin brother from the jump to avoid any confusion.

  Like there were really that many women. Ha! Who had the time between medical school, establishing a career, taking over the practic
e, and then stepping in at the helm for their ailing father?

  It figured that the one opportunity he took in the past year would wind up in their office under the capable hands of his womanizing brother to treat an injury Aiden caused.

  The man upstairs had to be laughing his ass off at this one.

  She crossed her arms and huffed, a coil of red hair bouncing in front of her eyes with the movement. Sticking out her bottom lip, she blew out a breath, sending the errant curl sailing to the top of her hair and poking out like a spring.

  How long did it take them to get that mass of curls straightened before each show?

  “You’re full of it. There’s no way it wasn’t a topic of conversation. Hell, if I were a chiropractor, I’d definitely talk about it,” she said.

  “Well, it’s a good thing you’re not a chiropractor then.”

  “Aiden,” she said, the warning tone in her voice unmistakable.

  “My brother mentioned it after you left. That was the extent of the discussion,” he said, hoping he reassured her. The last thing he wanted was for her to ever think he’d humiliate her. “We had more pressing matters to discuss.”

  “Your dad?” she asked quietly.

  The fact that she’d remembered his father, set aside her bit of temper, and put two and two together burrowed deep inside and touched him. He cleared his throat. “Yes.”

  “Is he okay?” she asked, wringing her hands. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. It’s really none of my business.”

  “Physically, he’s fine.”

  “Mentally?”

  “Dementia,” he said. Something about the word tasted bitter and despite the diagnosis almost a year ago, he still had to force it from his lips.

  “I’m sorry,” she said before biting her cheek.

  “Thank you. You have to know, I wouldn’t have left if it wasn’t an emergency,” he said.

  “No, I get it. I would have done the same thing,” she said, her fingers going to that cross around her neck.

  “So, now what?” he asked.

  “I still need adjusting,” she said, grinning up at him.