LOVE in a Small Town

by Janet Eaves

  Polly glanced at the door, calculating how much pain she’d have to endure to reach it. “You go ahead and enjoy yourself. I think I’ll stay here and rest.”

  “Not today, Princess. Get your butt up off that window seat. We have work to do.”

  Stevens! Polly wanted to scream. He’d barely been gone two hours and she hadn’t yet found a way out of his proposed torture session. He was earlier than she’d hoped for. Not true, she admitted with a wicked sense of satisfaction. She’d really hoped for a terrible car accident and he couldn’t make it at all. Not that she wished him harm… much.

  And damn him, he was gorgeous in a tight sleeveless t-shirt that emphasized his chest and arm muscles, and his athletic shorts which showed every flexing thigh and calf muscle. The man was a friggin’ work of art. And it was seriously pissing her off.

  Catcher and Lilly greeted each other like long lost friends, flirting for all they were worth, before she flashed Polly a wink and carried the laundry from the room. Turning to Catcher, she smirked. “She’s married.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said cheerfully, while he retrieved a large black duffle bag from the hallway and placed it on her newly made bed. “My eyesight is twenty-twenty.”

  She squinted at him, hoping to look mean. “Don’t call me ridiculous. I told you, I don’t want to do this today. You need to get out of my room.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve read your chart. You should have started therapy months ago. You can’t keep hiding, pretending you can’t recover. Eventually you’ll convince your body that it’s true.”

  She wanted to slap him. That’s all there was to it. “I have other plans today.”

  He pulled large rubber bands, an assortment of balls, and other devices she knew she would hate from his bag. “Like what?”

  Polly bit her bottom lip then released it. Damn, she couldn’t think of a witty comeback so she opted for the truth. “Ignoring you.”

  As if she didn’t exist, he continued taking things from the bag, stacking them in piles beside the bed. She forced herself back across the room, determined to make a grand exit, but her body refused to move any faster than before. She made it to the door before he laid a hand on her shoulder. She flinched and glanced back at him. “Don’t ever touch me.” Oh my gosh he smells good!

  Catcher lowered his hand slowly. “I’m going to be touching you a lot. You need to get used to it. But for now all I was going to do was say, ‘good job.’ I know you’re in pain, but you need to move as much as you can. You’ve become stiff.”

  Polly refused to lean against the door-trim even though her legs were about to give. “I’m not stiff, I’m hurt.”

  “You are stiff and that’s making you hurt worse than you otherwise would. You sit around too much.”

  “I need a painkiller.”

  “You need to move and I’m going to help you.” He pointed towards the bed. “We’re going to start there. You need to lie down and let me give you a massage. It will help me to know how badly your muscles have atrophied and you’ll feel better for having me work the tissue.”

  Nearly panting, Polly gave in to exhaustion and leaned against the white painted trim. “No way.” And please stop smelling so wonderful! I’m not up to dealing with yummy twenty-something—year old men who want to touch me right now!

  Purpose and determination lit Catcher’s aqua eyes and tightened his square cut jaw, causing a tingle of something, though she refused to consider it might be excitement. The man, boy really, needed to leave her alone. Actually, he just needed to leave as she was seriously afraid her thirty-nine year old hormones were kicking in and she not only couldn’t, but wouldn’t, do anything about them!

  “You can walk back to your bed or I can carry you, but one way or another you and I have an appointment on that bed.”

  “Bite me,” she snapped, not sure whether she was angrier with him or herself. What the hell is wrong with me! She had enough to deal with and didn’t need a revived libido. Good grief!

  He exhaled loudly, his broad muscular shoulders rising and lowering in the process. “I guess we do this the hard way.”

  Polly screamed, so surprised to find herself in meaty strong arms she dropped her cane. Within seconds, she was being gently placed on the bed. She stared up at him, speechless.

  “Now we get to the part I think you’ll really like. You need to lose the pants.”

  “Where’s my gun?”

  Polly reached for her nightstand drawer, hoping to intimidate him with her weapon but Catcher grabbed her arm, pressed it to her side, and rolled her over onto her belly. “Let go of me, you moron!”

  Catcher’s weight lowered the bed as he lightly straddled her. His breath tickled her ear when he leaned in to whisper, “Pretty lady, I want you to be still. I need to examine you, and you know as well as I do that you aren’t going to get out of this. Now again, we can do this the easy way where you get the benefits of a massage, or we can do it the hard way and I just run my hands over your body to access the work we have in front of us.” He waited a heartbeat. “Are you willing to be still?”

  Polly couldn’t move, not because of his weight, he was barely touching her, and not because she feared him, she didn’t. But he’d called her pretty, a word she never expected to hear again, and the pain of his lie took all the fight out of her. “Yes,” she whispered, sickened to hear the quiver in her voice.

  Chapter Four

  “Then let’s make you more comfortable,” Catcher said, rising to stand beside the bed.

  Polly allowed him to assist her as she turned onto her back. “I’m sliding these off.” He grasped the waistband of her sweat pants. She flashed him a glare and captured his hands with her own, but held her anger in check because she knew he was right. She didn’t have any choice but to cooperate. Her phone conversation with her boss had been short and to the point—either pull herself together and use the help they’d sent or her temporary medical leave would turn into permanent disability… which wasn’t what most people knew of as permanent disability. She wasn’t dumb.

  Trying to adopt a reasonable tone, she lightly swatted his hands. “I can take my own pants off. Turn around.”

  Amusement flashed in Catcher’s eyes. “You do realize that once you have them off, I am turning back?”

  A bubble of anger surfaced. “You will not turn back around until I have covered my private areas with that throw,” she said, point to the light blanket folded neatly at the foot of the bed.

  “What private areas? You’re a grown woman, an agent of the Federal government, so I seriously doubt you haven’t been seen in your underwear before. Stop stalling.”

  Heat flared her cheeks. “I am not wearing underwear, okay? It hurts me. That’s why I only wear sweatsuits. I can barely stand the touch of anything against my skin.”

  Catcher was silent for several seconds before blowing out a breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. That’s why I need to examine you. I need to know what hurts, where it hurts, and how it hurts. I need you to give me a number between one and ten where you experience pain. One meaning a little pain, and ten meaning excruciating. And we need to have another full body scan done, just to make sure all the fractures have healed properly. You haven’t been back to a doctor since coming to Legend, according to my report.”

  Polly struggled to sit upright, accepting his assistance since she knew not to would only hurt more. “I haven’t been to a doctor here because I can’t stand being poked and prodded any more. I spent an entire month in the hospital in Boston and have more needle track-marks than a street junky to show for it.”

  “You go tomorrow—for the CAT scan only. I promise.”

  She opened her mouth, an automatic protest on her lips, then nodded instead. “Okay, but if anybody comes at me with a needle, it’s going into your butt, not mine.”

  Catcher grinned. “Deal.”

  Polly glanced at her open door and then at Catcher. “Do we have to do this today?”

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nbsp; He nodded. “We do.”

  She exhaled. “Then step out and close the door.”

  Catcher studied her, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I guess we might as well do it all at once.”

  Apprehension made the skin at the nape of her neck tingle. “Do all of what at once?”

  “The top needs to go, too. I need to turn in a complete examination report by the end of the week. This way you only have to bare yourself once.”

  Okay, now I’m mad! “You are out of your mind if you think I’m gonna let some punk kid massage therapist get me completely naked!”

  Catcher sat on the bed, ignoring her attempt to scoot away. “First of all, Agent Chapman, I am also an employee of our Federal government, and frankly, I don’t give a rat’s ass what you want. I’ll get you some loose cotton shorts and an oversized soft shirt, and then you are gonna cooperate with me.”

  Polly knew her mouth hung open. No one ever dared to talk to her in such a manner. She would have snapped their neck. “You have no right to talk to me like that.”

  Catcher shook his head as if disgusted. “Then get up off your ornery ass and stop me.”

  Fury rolled over her in waves of molten heat. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with, kid. Back off!”

  Lightning flashed in Catcher’s aqua eyes. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with either, woman. Wake up or you are gonna regret ever becoming a part of any of this.”

  Polly exhaled slowly, allowing the anger to flow out with her breath. She already regretted it, and had since waking up from a comma in a military hospital. No, even before that. When she’d failed those kids and their mother.

  She blinked away the moisture building in her eyes, refusing to get emotional. There was no use in crying over the long dead. “Why are you here, Stevens? Really?”

  As if he sensed her resignation, he backed away. “To help you get back on your feet. To get you back in shape. To get you back to work.”

  Since he’d listed his objectives as if checking off instructions on a list, she kept quiet. That list would have been created by The Agency, and there was no sense in telling a young flunky that she had no intention of returning to a job she no longer believed in.

  But she couldn’t allow that to become public knowledge until she knew her options.

  “I’m here for you, Chapman,” he continued. “So get the stick out of your tight ass and do what you’re told. You know as well as I do you don’t have a choice.”

  Polly tried, but failed, to keep from smiling. Even after months of mostly sitting or lying down, Catcher Stevens still thought her ass tight. It wasn’t much, but her vanity hadn’t been stroked in a long time, and she had to admit it felt good. She sat up, and looked him over. “I’m not the only tight ass, here, Stevens. Don’t push so hard.”

  A lopsided grin tilted his lips. “You’ve been looking at my ass.”

  Since it wasn’t a question, and she knew full well he knew he had an incredibly fine butt, she refused to take the bait. “Only because I was hoping it would be the last thing I saw of you as you left.”

  He shook his head, amusement clear in his eyes. “You’re a hard woman, Agent Chapman.”

  The knock to her chest had to be her heart skipping a beat. “Just call me Polly, or Chapman. The title isn’t appropriate here.”

  Her serious tone took the sparkle from his eyes and he nodded. “Of course. Well, you will be happy to know you won this round. I’m giving you today, but tomorrow we do things my way.”

  Polly looked away, unable to comment. She knew she hadn’t worked as hard as she should to get better, but no one understood just how badly she hurt—not just her body. The pain went deeper. A lot deeper. And there were still days that lifting her arms to put on her shirt, or taking too many steps, or even water hitting her injured leg in the shower brought tears to her eyes, though if she was honest things were getting better—as long as she never looked in the mirror.

  Catcher Stevens was right about her missing appointments with the local doctor. She hadn’t gone initially because she’d been afraid he’d tell her the condition was permanent, that her nerves were destroyed, that she should stay in the wheelchair she still used more often than not. Then it was because she just didn’t want to go.

  It was hard to sit in a waiting room with women she went to high school with and see their delight at being pregnant, or their fear of looking or talking to her, she was sure, because they just didn’t know what to say to a severely scarred woman.

  Though she knew their avoidance was probably due to a desire not to insult, the result was the same. She was embarrassed and uncomfortable. And though she’d been told her scars would improve in appearance in the next year, the reality was that she’d probably always be looked at with horror, or worse, pity.

  She turned to Catcher, who was stuffing some of his equipment back into the large bag. She couldn’t ask him the questions she really wanted to ask because it might alert him prematurely of her intentions, so she asked the questions she could. “What if I can’t get better? What if I go through all the pain of therapy and it isn’t enough?”

  Catcher stopped what he was doing and approached, taking her hand into his own. “I’ll make you a promise. I will never have you do anything that isn’t beneficial to your recovery.” He searched her eyes. “But you have to make a promise, too. You have to give it your best shot. The pain will be unbearable at times, but you’re a tough lady according to your boss. Prove it to me. Prove it to yourself.”

  “I don’t really have a choice,” she said, distracted slightly by the warmth of his fingers wrapped around her hand. Since she didn’t have a choice, she decided to lighten up a little. “So, how’d you get stuck with the job of babysitting me?”

  Catcher released her, stood, and stretched. His muscles jumped to attention. So did her heartbeat.

  “Easy. I like what I do. It’s important. I get to help the people who sacrifice their minds, bodies, and sadly even their lives in service to this country. You, Miss Chapman, qualify.”

  Polly snorted. “And I bet you were a friggin Eagle Scout, too.”

  “Matter of fact,” he agreed, with a grin.

  Chapter Five

  “He’s really cute.”

  Polly took the small plate Lilly offered and pushed the toggle switch on her wheelchair. She motored across the patio until she reached her favorite spot. The weather was wonderful, with pure sunshine and a gentle breeze flowing through the screened openings. “Yeah, he’s cute, Lilly. As in, once upon a time he’d been sinfully fun jail bait. But the kid’s pushy as hell, and thinks he’s gonna make me go to the doctor later today wearing the ridiculously short shorts he dropped off earlier.”

  “Well, you do have great legs,” Lilly offered, then bit her lips as devilment danced in her eyes.

  “Don’t laugh at me. He’s a brat. Barely out of diapers. And I don’t want his hands on me.”

  Lilly and Suzie shared a smile with her, but she didn’t feel like smiling back. Lilly, who seemed to have the appetite of an elephant without the resulting weight gain, took a bite of the scone Suzie created, then moaned in pleasure.

  “This is fantastic. You definitely need to do these for your next cooking class,” she told Suzie. “Jim will make them for me afterwards and I can pig-out.” She patted her growing tummy and turned to Polly. “I can’t believe Catcher’s a physical therapist. He looks so young. He reminds me of those cute teenage boys you see in surfing tournaments—he’s so blonde and buff.” She closed her eyes, smiling. “Gives me fantasies of Beach Boys music and sweaty bodies on the sand in sunny California.” She opened her eyes and glanced down, laughing. “Of course, I’d look more like a beached whale than a beach bunny these days.”

  Polly refused to picture Catcher half-naked on a sparkling beach—a picture all too easy to conjure up. She shrugged nonchalantly, then wished she hadn’t when pain streaked across her shoulders. Maybe he was right. Maybe she had gotten stiff. “
I don’t know how old he is. I figured early twenties at first, but I guess he must be older.” She glanced from Suzie to Polly. “What’s it matter? All he is to me is a pain in the ass.”

  Ignoring her sour tone, Lilly snagged another scone and held it to her lips. “Have you figured out what scent he wears? I want to get Jim some. I think my hormones are craving that aroma.” Lilly frowned at both women. “Can hormones crave?” She took a bite and hummed with pleasure.

  “I don’t know,” Suzie chimed in. She turned her attention to her fussing son. “Here, baby-doll, take Mommy’s breast.” She slid the fluffy white peasant blouse down to expose her full breasts then adjusted her gauzy, multicolored skirt in the patio chair. “I’m wondering about his pecs. Are those real? I mean really, does the man spend hours a day working those puppies? And that stomach, oh momma, I could scrub laundry against those abs. I think I actually came when he pulled off his shirt earlier.”

  “I think I just threw-up in my mouth,” Polly offered, suppressing a grin.

  All three women looked at the others and burst out laughing. Lilly pointed to her best friend. “I wouldn’t let that gorgeous husband of yours hear that you’re horny for another guy.”

  Suzie shrugged, then resettled the baby when he protested. “Oh, he knows how I am right now. Actually, he’s enjoying the fact that everything makes me horny—as long as I take my meals at home he doesn’t care where I get the appetite. My hormones are doing double-time.” She glanced down at her son. “Poor thing, Mommy’s become a nympho.”

  “And Daddy’s a very happy man.” Brad entered and crossed the sunroom to give his wife and then his son a kiss. “How are my babies?”

  “Hot. How about you?”

  “Hot. Wanna take a ride?”

  Suzie squirmed in her seat. “On you or the Harley?”