Bad Boys for Hire_Nick_Christmas Holiday

by Rachelle Ayala

  “Yeah, right.” His eyes darted toward Nick briefly. “Thanks for coming.”

  Carol leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, but he seemed too embarrassed to acknowledge it. Instead, he closed his eyes and let out a long breath, deflating into the stretcher.

  “Who’s Carolyn?” Nick asked Carol as soon as they were in her van. He’d decided to leave his motorcycle in the parking lot at Jason’s and drive back with her.

  She looked pale and shaken up, and he didn’t want her to be alone. Besides, she was finally talking to him, and he wasn’t going to squander the chance to show her how much he cared.

  “I’ve no clue. Probably an ex-girlfriend.” Carol used her hand controls like a pro. “It’s kind of weird how he thought I was Carolyn.”

  “Even your names sound similar,” Nick agreed. “How do you feel about it?”

  Carol stared at the road for several moments. “Guess all of us have a past. I hope he’s going to be okay.”

  “He’s in good hands.” Nick dreaded the answer to his next question, but it was better to get it out of the way. “Do you like him a lot?”

  He fortified himself for her answer—told himself it didn’t matter. He hadn’t known Carol long, and whatever attraction he’d felt when she pasted the cotton ball beard onto him could have been his imagination.

  “Why are you asking?” She slid him a sideways glance.

  He shrugged without looking straight at her. “Just checking out the competition.”

  “I didn’t know there was one.”

  Come on. How could she be oblivious to his interest? She’d accused him of stalking, of bothering her, of disturbing her.

  “Okay, let me put it another way, did you enjoy my singing telegram better or his flowers?”

  “I liked them both.” Her smile opened up her face, and Nick’s heart warmed. “Thanks. I didn’t get a chance to tell you how much I appreciated it.”

  “So much you tipped me.” He chuckled lightly and shook his head. “Would now be a good time to ask you out?”

  “I don’t know.” She took a turn down a residential street that wasn’t far from his brother’s apartment. “It might get awkward if you’re going to be Jason’s nighttime aide.”

  “You mean I’ll be wiping your boyfriend’s butt?”

  “You have to admit that’s awkward, isn’t it?” She slowed in front of his apartment complex and pulled into a parking spot.

  “Hey, why are you stopping here?”

  “I live here. Is that okay with you?”

  “Oh, sure, well, so do I. Small world.” He scratched the back of his neck.

  She snickered as if she didn’t believe him.

  “Yeah, small world. Are you sure you’re not stalking me? I mean, applying to be Jason’s nighttime aide, and now claiming you live here?” Carol’s brows furrowed. “Isn’t it kind of strange you called me while I was on a date with him?”

  Uh oh. Busted. Of course, it was a coincidence Jason had an opening for an aide, but since Nick was in the job market, what was the harm in applying?

  “And that job with Wheelympics, that Patricia just happened to mention was open?” Carol poked his bicep. “Why the sudden change in career plans?”

  Honesty was the best policy, or was it?

  “I met you, Carol. Call me crazy, but after you challenged me to learn what it was like to live with a spinal cord injury, I decided to do just that. I’ve been researching on the internet and asking questions. Jason was very helpful. He seemed to have no problem talking to me.”

  “Humpf. Now, I’m a project for you?” She shut off the engine and crossed her arms, looking fiery and sexy as all hell.

  “No, you’re something else.”

  “What?”

  He turned his most seductive asset on her, his large, dark brown eyes which could melt glaciers. “You’re the most difficult, opinionated, hard-headed, and obstinate woman I’ve ever met, and you’re going to make me a better man.”

  Her mouth opened, shut, then dropped open again. “Why me?”

  He uncrossed her arms and ran his fingers down to her hand. There it was, the spark. Her eyes dilated, and she drew in a sharp breath.

  “I feel it too,” he said. After removing the leather glove she always wore, he drew circles on her hand before clasping it. “This doesn’t happen with other women.”

  “It’s just a physical thing. A chemical reaction. Hormones. Biology.” She yanked her hand from his. “It’s not a good reason.”

  “It’s a good start.” He moved in and twirled a strand of her hair. “I still remember the first time I saw you break dancing at the studio. You were awesome.”

  “It’s hip hop, and I try my best.” Her voice was tight, but at least she wasn’t pushing his hand away.

  He could probably kiss her if he tried, but he didn’t want to scare her off with his aggressiveness. “You’re talented.”

  “Please. Stop flattering the lady in the wheelchair.”

  He widened his eyes and raked them down her body to her legs, then back up to her lovely face. “I don’t see a wheelchair. Do you see one?”

  “It’s in the back.” She hooked a glance at the center row of the van.

  Smoothly, he pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, then ran his finger around the shell of her ear, grazing it gently, before trailing it down the side of her face. “Do you feel that?”

  Shuddering, she closed her eyes, wetting her lips. “You do this to women all the time. Why me?”

  Oh, she wanted to be kissed all right, and he wanted to give it to her, except he was still getting over the cold.

  “I don’t take the time to get to know most women. Not really. But you’re different.”

  “What do you want?” The guardedness in her voice fought with her body language as she swallowed and leaned ever so slightly into his palm.

  “I want to see where this leads.” He bent toward her, his lips so close to hers that she gasped. At the last split second, he veered past her mouth and kissed her cheek.

  Her face tilted slightly, as if she’d expected him to kiss her, but when he moved back, she froze and a blush pinked her cheeks.

  “I can’t,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I can’t be everything a man like you needs.”

  He thumbed underneath her chin, keeping his strokes soft and tender. “What do you think I need?”

  “Sex.”

  “What else?”

  She rolled her eyes and tossed her head back. “What else? That’s what you’re all about. Stripping. Seducing women. Working out. Dancing. Hitting on women. Having them all over you. You have it all, Nick. Good looks, a fit body, health, and all the women you want.”

  “No. I don’t have it all. You do. You have it all.”

  “You’re mocking me.” She pushed his hand from her face. “You’re dangling something that’s out of reach for me.”

  “I can assure you that if I dangle something, you have only to reach out and touch.”

  “Now you’re getting crude.”

  “But you like it.” He took her hand and drew it just above his crotch, but instead of letting her land there, he moved it to his chest. “How about this? Come to the gym tomorrow and help me prepare for the interview with Wheelympics. Show me what exercises you do, so that I’ll be prepared to work with the kids.”

  “Oh, so all this is to get you the inside scoop at Wheelympics?” The confident tilt of her chin was back. “Of course. I knew you had an angle.”

  “Yep, apparently I did.” He brought her hand to his lips, kissed it and flicked his tongue in a small circle to give her a taste of how he’d kiss her between her legs someday. “I’ll see you tomorrow at nine or ten?”

  “Nine is fine.” She stayed frozen in her seat as he opened the passenger door and got out of her van.

  If she thought Stalking Santa was going to try and get into her apartment, she’d be very disappointed indeed, and that disappointment would make her want him e
ven more.

  Nineteen

  “Where were you when Jason needed you?” Carol accused Marisa the next morning.

  Her sister had stumbled back to their apartment well after midnight and claimed she had her phone on silent mode.

  “I wasn’t the one on call.” Marisa rubbed her bleary eyes as she dragged herself to the kitchen, no doubt hungover.

  “Who knows what could have happened if I hadn’t been there?” Carol wheeled herself after her sister.

  “Then, he’s lucky you were there.” Marisa put ground coffee into the coffee maker. “How’s he doing anyway?”

  “I thought you’d know. Aren’t you his nurse?”

  Marisa groaned and drew the blinds. “Nurse does not mean caregiver. I check up on him for scheduled visits, but I have a whole caseload of other patients. The caregivers do the day-to-day work.”

  “So you’re telling me, you know nothing and you don’t care what happened to him?” Carol wheeled herself to the refrigerator, blocking Marisa.

  “I do care, but I can’t be following up on all my patients twenty-four seven. Besides, even if I did, I’m not supposed to talk about his health with you.”

  “Then I better call him myself, since you’re no use.” Carol took a yogurt from the refrigerator and wheeled herself to her office.

  What was going on with Marisa? She was the one who seemed so eager to set Carol up with Jason, and now she acted upset that Carol was so concerned with him.

  She punched in Jason’s number and waited for him to pick up.

  “Hello, Carol,” he answered. “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to pick up.”

  Wow. Someone was a grump this morning. But then again, he’d had an emergency, so she’d cut him some slack.

  “I just wanted to know how you’re doing. I’m not bothering you, am I?”

  “No, but it’s probably safe to say I’ve ruined my chances with you.” His voice was deep and pinched. He wasn’t having a good day.

  “Jason, I’m not sure what exactly is going on, but I like you. I’m not going to turn my back on you because of a little emergency.”

  Of course there was that entire episode where he’d called her another woman’s name, but maybe he didn’t remember any of it.

  “I’m okay now. Doctor says I should take it easy. As if anything is easy being paralyzed.”

  “I understand completely,” Carol reassured. “What are your plans for today?”

  “You really want to know?”

  “Humor me.”

  “Bowel program. Shower chair. Massage therapy and stretches. Upper body conditioning. Group therapy, and then watching TV, reading, and trying not to go crazy thinking about what could have been.”

  “Could you use some company in the trying not to go crazy part?”

  “No, I’d rather be alone.”

  “You’ll be okay?” She was dying to find out what had happened, but he obviously wasn’t telling her.

  “I’m always okay. You know how it is. Put on a positive attitude and all that. Don’t worry about me.”

  Which was exactly why she was worried. If she had anything to do with his depressed state, then she needed to fix it.

  “I had a good time last night,” she lowered her voice in case Marisa eavesdropped. “I really enjoyed being with you.”

  “Same here. You’re a wonderful woman.” He cleared his throat and coughed weakly. “But things didn’t work out.”

  She got it. Entirely. His pride had been hurt by his incident. But part of being disabled meant there would be unpredictable moments—lots of them.

  “It’s entirely normal, Jason. I also have times when things fall apart. You have nothing to feel bad about.”

  What more could she say? She had to let Jason maintain a sense of dignity.

  “I have to get going. My caregiver is here, and he’s on a tight timeframe.” His voice was closed and stiff. Obviously, he was mortified at what had happened.

  “Sure, I’ll call you later in the evening. You take care of yourself.”

  Jason groaned. “I wish I could.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “I know, well, bye.”

  “Bye.” She hung up and blew out a tired breath.

  She’d been where he was, in a dark and lonely place. Some days she was still there, whereas other days she’d almost forgotten she was paralyzed. Almost.

  It was the worst in the morning, especially when she’d been dreaming about skiing, hiking, dancing, and running. The running dreams always started the same way. She’d be running like the wind in a field of green grass. The wind would whip her hair back and she’d sprint effortlessly through a meadow. Joyously, she’d reach her hands up to the clear blue sky and let the sun warm her face. But at some point, everything would change. The sky would turn dark, and her feet would feel heavy, like they were stuck in wet cement. It would get so bad that she was stuck to the ground, unable to move, no matter how she tried. When she woke, tears would roll down her face, and she’d pinch her legs and her thighs, and she wouldn’t feel a thing. Lying there in the dark, it was as if everything below her waist didn’t exist. She, Carol, was only alive from the top of her head to her belly button. That was the extent of her being.

  So in those early morning hours, before she could give herself a pep talk, she would cry and wish she could keep on dreaming good dreams—running, skiing, dancing, and making love.

  How much worse for Jason, who ceased to exist below his chest, or for the even higher level injuries who were but a head, dependent on a ventilator for the very breath of life. A floating head imprisoned by an armor of numbness.

  Carol covered her face as tears leaked from her eyes.

  Jason was in a dark place, and she fully got it. Or did she? Could she really, truly understand, when every day, she thanked God she had her hands and fingers, her arms and shoulders, her biceps and triceps, and muscular control of her torso.

  And then, the guilt hit. Jason had been trying to keep up with her last night. He’d fallen from his wheelchair onto the sofa because she hadn’t stayed in her chair.

  No wonder he didn’t want to see her anymore, and she couldn’t blame him. Why did everything have to be so hard?

  Carol was late getting to the gym. The emotional bout of tears hadn’t helped. Even worse was Marisa feeling sorry for her. She’d explained to Carol that as a professional nurse, she had to leave her feelings at home when she was at work. Otherwise, she couldn’t get through the day.

  It’s like wine tasting, she’d said. You get a taste of it, but you don’t swallow.

  Wine tasting or not, Carol couldn’t separate her feelings so easily. This entire year has been one adjustment after another, and with Christmas looming on the horizon, she wasn’t sure she could handle all the cheer and celebrating.

  At least she was good at pretending. Studiously, she gritted her teeth and tried on her repertoire of smiles. There was the blaring toothy one for showing how well life was going, the close-mouthed, subdued one for acting as if she had a secret pleasure, and the half-flashed social one for if she happened to catch someone’s eyes as she wheeled down the street.

  People tended to avoid her anyway, acting as if she were invisible, an obstacle such as a fire hydrant to get around. Most of the time, she kept a resting bitch face when out in public, stony and looking straight ahead as if she couldn’t care less that no one greeted her or wished her a nice day.

  She could do it. She could keep herself together. She lifted her chin and straightened her spine. At least that portion of her body still worked.

  Fake it until you break. If she could pretend she was strong, that she was handling everything well, then no one around her need feel guilty that their lives were better.

  Her brother could go on being happily married and expecting a baby. Her mother could enjoy retirement at an active senior community and spend her days on the golf course. Her father could indulge in wild expeditions without fear of being i
njured or maimed, and her stepsister could party all night and get as hungover as she wanted.

  No one needed to feel sorry for her, because she, Carol Cassidy, had it all. Young, single, employed, with a life full of friends and hobbies—okay, so there was no boyfriend or special someone—but, truly, she had it covered.

  Or so she wanted the world to believe.

  She locked her van, and sped toward the entrance. The gym had an accessible ramp, and Carol was already dressed in her workout clothes. Since she was going to help Nick, she put on a nice stretchy pair of yoga pants and a clingy turquoise-colored tank top. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she’d put on a small amount of makeup to cover her puffy eyes.

  Part of appearing in control was looking good, and she couldn’t let him or anyone think she didn’t have her act together.

  Nick was right at the door to meet her.

  “I know I’m late,” she said to preclude him from complaining. She wasn’t going to explain or make excuses. That would seem weak.

  “Hey, it’s okay. I should have asked you for a time.” He looked well-rested and not the least bit under the weather. Whatever virus he’d had, his strong immune system had taken care of it.

  “You did, but I picked nine.” She flashed him what she hoped was a confident smirk. “I always like to get my workout in early, even though it’s Saturday.”

  “Great. Show me what you do, and how you adjust the machines.” Nick walked at her side as she wheeled herself to the workout area. “I want to ace the interview.”

  “Yep, that’s what I’m here for. I’ll run through my workout routine for you.”

  “Mind if I record you on video?” Nick palmed his smartphone.

  “Not at all.” Now she was glad she’d put on makeup. “The video would help others, too. But of course, part of adaptive sports or working out means each individual has different adaptations. Just because I do something one way, it might not work for someone else.”

  “Got it.” Nick switched on the recording.

  “First, I stretch.” Carol raised her arms and pulled them from side to side. “I also use stretch bands to loosen myself up. Since my arms are all I have, I need to make sure I don’t injure myself or pull a muscle.”