Sexy Living

Home > Other > Sexy Living > Page 11
Sexy Living Page 11

by Regina Cole

“This is going to hurt,” she said aloud. “You can do it. It’s only what, six, eight feet?”

  Nodding, she held her breath. Only one hop done before a knock came at the door.

  “Stacey, I’m back, are you awake?”

  She was gritting her teeth and trying not to fall over. “Uh-hnn.”

  “Are you okay? Can I help?”

  Two more hops. Could she be a little lighter on her feet? It sounded like she was trying to stomp holes in his flooring. “Unn-nnn.”

  “I’m coming in.”

  Oh no, he couldn’t. She was even with the door. Once he swung it open he’d . . .

  She didn’t fight it this time. There was no point. The door opened and she waited for him to catch her.

  She wasn’t falling, but that didn’t seem to matter.

  “Why didn’t you call me? Christ, you could have fallen and hit your head again.”

  “But I didn’t,” she pointed out as he scooped her into his arms. Christ, she’d never thought she’d find a guy who could actually do that. Her arms wound around his neck instinctively and she held on tightly, trying to ignore how good it felt to be held this way. “You’re going to give yourself a hernia if you don’t put me down. I’m way too heavy for this.”

  “Let me worry about that. Listen. When you get some crutches, or a cane, you can hop around all you want to. But before then, ask for help.”

  “You going to put me on the toilet so I can pee?” She delivered the line coolly, pleased with her snappy comeback in the face of his proximity.

  But when he didn’t answer, just carried her toward the toilet, panic welled inside her.

  “No, seriously, I was joking. Don’t. Please, I’m humiliated enough.” She didn’t want to beg, but damn it, for this, she’d beg.

  He gently set her down on her good leg beside the toilet.

  “Go ahead. I’ll be in the closet grabbing a few things, so if you fall or need help, yell and I’ll be right here.”

  “Thanks,” she said, her cheeks hotter than the desert sun. Thankfully, he closed the bathroom door behind him. The snap of the latch made her jump.

  If ever she’d fantasized about a guy nursing her back to health, she’d been so very, very wrong. If she survived the next forty-eight hours with any dignity intact, she’d consider it a home run.

  Chapter 13

  The orthopedist’s office was nice. Rob should know: He’d been cooling his heels in their ultra-plush lobby for about three hours now.

  He sighed and picked a tiny piece of fluff from his jeans. If he’d thought ahead, he could have brought his laptop and made use of the time. As it was, he’d exhausted all the productive possibilities on his phone. He’d reached out to the gym, checked on things there, returned some e-mails, contacted clients. Hell, he was almost to the point of breaking down and checking Facebook. The situation was that dire.

  Brandi had a good grip on the reins at the gym. He wasn’t worried at all. But sitting still and not doing anything wasn’t in his nature. He’d almost offered to go back into the treatment room with Stacey. Would have if he wasn’t certain it would weird her out.

  He smiled down at the toes of his shoes. She’d been funny that morning, so sure she’d won. But her squawking panic had totally wrecked her triumph. Custard was a fan, too. Once they’d had a longer introduction this morning, Rob wasn’t sure whether his dog would ever leave the poor woman alone. Her wagging tail had threatened to dent the wainscoting in the hallway.

  He still worried about Stacey. Her self-esteem had been in the crapper before this accident. And now? He still wanted to help her improve it. But he knew the challenge had just increased exponentially. Good thing he loved impossible odds.

  The sound of the door opening broke his reverie, and he turned just in time to see Stacey, her leg splinted in a brace, hobbling through the door on crutches.

  He rose from his seat and met her by the door.

  “I need to come back on Friday,” she said, raking her bangs away from her forehead. “There isn’t a break that they can see, but they want to evaluate me after the swelling’s gone down a little.”

  Rob nodded. “I can bring you.”

  She shook her head, looking pained. “I can’t ask you to keep taking me everywhere. You’re not running a taxi service.”

  “I’ve been meaning to look into it. Uber drivers can make good money. You can help me practice.”

  His light tease did the trick, and she made a face at him. “I don’t tip.”

  He feigned offense. “The very idea. I’d never charge a dime.”

  “You’d make a crap Uber driver then.”

  “True,” he said, holding the door for her. He watched as she navigated the crutches, her brow lined with concentration. He matched her pace, excruciatingly slow though it was, as they walked the short distance to the car. Thankfully there had been a spot open right in front of the entrance when they’d arrived.

  “How’s it feeling?” He nodded toward the brace on her leg.

  “Not brilliant. And the crutches aren’t exactly comfortable to work with, either.” She leaned against the car as he opened the door for her and took her crutches. “But I shouldn’t have to use them for long.”

  After tucking her crutches into the trunk, he slid into the driver’s seat beside Stacey. Before he could crank the engine, his cell phone buzzed in his pocket.

  “Sorry,” he said as he pulled it free and glanced at the screen. Mom. “Excuse me one minute, Stacey. Hello?”

  “Robbie, it’s me.”

  “What’s going on, Mom?” Rob kept his voice light, even though he was worried. It wasn’t like her to call. She usually texted, or sent Facebook messages in all caps.

  “Your father isn’t feeling well. I’ve tried to get him to call his cardiologist, but he says he’s fine. Can you talk to him?”

  Shit. Rob shot a glance over at Stacey. “Of course. Give him the phone.”

  A moment went by, the sound of his mother walking through the house echoing through the tiny speaker.

  “Richard? It’s Robbie. He wants to talk to you about calling the doctor.” His mother sounded faraway.

  “Millie, I told you not to call him. I’m fine. What’s he going to do anyway, tell me to do some sit-ups ’til it feels better?”

  Rob’s jaw tightened as he waited for their argument to end. This was becoming a much-too-common occurrence.

  “Sorry, Robbie, he doesn’t want to talk right now.”

  “It’s okay, Mom. For now, just keep an eye on him, and if he gets any worse, call the cardiologist yourself. Let me know if I can help.”

  “I will.” She sniffed, and the sound pierced straight through his heart. “I love you, Robbie.”

  “I love you too. Everything will be fine.”

  At least, he thought as he killed the call, he hoped it would be.

  He cranked the engine and smoothly shifted into REVERSE.

  “Is everything okay?”

  He shot Stacey a glance.

  “Yes. Sorry about that. Just trouble with my parents. My father’s health isn’t the best, and he’s a damn stubborn ass at times. Refuses to listen to me because of my job.”

  “I can’t imagine anybody disapproving of you owning your own business,” Stacey said, her tone incredulous. “I mean, it’s a really awesome gym, and it looks like it’s doing well. There’s nothing wrong with being a personal trainer.”

  “It’s not an MD. That’s what’s wrong with it.” Low-lying cloud cover blanketed the horizon, making Rob think of snow. “I swore up and down I wasn’t getting a medical degree. That’s why my undergrad was in business administration. My parents eventually forgave me once the gym started turning a profit and I never came crawling back looking for a handout. But Dad never misses the chance to point out what he feels should have been my career instead.”

  The car rolled to a stop at an intersection. Rob’s hand rested lightly on the gearshift. He watched his thumb make slow circles aro
und the silver button on the side. He wasn’t sure whether he felt better or not. It wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t like he went around telling everyone that he was a disappointment to his family.

  “I understand.”

  The words were as surprising as the somber tone. Rob shot a look over at his passenger. “What?”

  “About not wanting to stir the pot with your family.” Stacey tucked a lock of strawberry-blond hair behind her ear. In the dim gray light of the winter day, her blue eyes looked almost stormy, like the sea. “I’ve kind of been the black sheep for a long time, too. Not as far as the career thing goes. But with looks? Yeah.”

  “What do you mean?” Rob didn’t want to look away from her, but the light was green. He stepped lightly on the gas pedal.

  “My whole family is genetically gifted. Seriously, they’re the kind of people you hate on sight because they’re just so damn beautiful. Well, like you.” A mirthless laugh escaped her. “My mother’s never dieted a day in her life. My aunt’s even worse. My dad used to model in the early eighties. He met my mom at an industry party.”

  “Did she model too?”

  Stacey shook her head. “She was trying to break into the business. But they hit it off, and then she got pregnant. So her career dreams were crushed, and then Dad had to get a more stable job. And then I came out looking like this.”

  Rob desperately wanted to look over at her, but he was turning into the parking lot of one of his favorite lunch places. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you look.”

  “I’ve got my mom’s coloring, but I’ve always had a weight problem. I tried to make up for it by being a really great student, by doing everything extracurricular I qualified for. But I’ve never been athletic. I tried out for basketball, volleyball, track. Never made a single team.”

  Rob cut the engine and finally looked over at Stacey. She was staring into her lap at the gray sweatpants he’d bought for her on an early morning Target run. He’d offered to grab her some clothes, and while she’d rather have had her own things, the thought of giving Rob free reign to rummage through her clothes made her cringe.

  “I guess that’s part of the reason I wanted to join the gym and finally get this weight thing figured out. So I could stop being such a disappointment.”

  He leaned over the center console and gathered her into his arms. This was good. The bandages were being ripped off, and the old wounds were getting a chance to breathe.

  She didn’t cry, just held on to him for a long, sweet moment. He closed his eyes. For a moment, he didn’t think about her body, what he’d like to do to her once she was feeling healthy and whole again. He just held her.

  Much too soon for him, she pulled away.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to dump that on you. We were talking about you.”

  “We were talking about common problems,” Rob corrected gently as he reached for the door handle. “Let’s go inside and continue this conversation over some lunch. Do you like Mexican food?”

  “It’s one of my favorites,” Stacey admitted with a half smile that he was delighted to see.

  * * *

  Stacey settled into the chair that Rob helpfully held out for her. Damn it, she was really getting used to the gentlemanly way he treated her. Admonishing herself that he was just being kind, and that she shouldn’t read into it, she began to peruse the menu the hostess had laid in front of her while Rob tucked her crutches in the corner beside them.

  “What’s good here?” she asked as Rob sat down across from her.

  “Everything. This is where I come when I need a cheat day.” He smiled and plucked a chip from the basket that had appeared in front of them when she wasn’t looking.

  “Cheat days. The concept is appalling.”

  Rob shrugged one shoulder, one muscled, impossibly broad, very sexy shoulder, and grinned. “It is what it is.”

  “I hate that expression.”

  Rob crunched his chip and continued looking at her. Her body grew warmer and warmer, and she fought to run a hand over the back of her neck to check for sweat.

  “Don’t you need to look at the menu?”

  “Nope. My favorite’s on special today. Pollo ranchero.”

  “I guess I’ll get that, too.” Stacey closed her menu and took a sip of water. Rob might be teasing her to help her deal with the emotions that their conversation in the car had stirred. She felt bad about that. Their talk had started because he was revealing things about himself, and she’d made it all about her. Rude, much? She cleared her throat. Time to make up for it.

  “Do you mind if I ask you about your parents?”

  His easy smile faded somewhat, but he shook his head. “No, fire away.”

  “Why did they want you to be a doctor so badly?”

  Stabbing his salsa with a chip, Rob stared at the small brown bowl as he swirled around it. “My dad’s an MD. Family practice. He’s very old school, traditional gender roles, that kind of thing. My two sisters both went to nursing school, but since I was the boy, I was supposed to carry on the family tradition. My grandfather was a doctor, too. Dad really was gung ho over the third generation continuing the tradition.”

  His tone had soured a bit. Stacey fiddled with her napkin. “And you didn’t want that.”

  He shook his head. “No. I thought about it, even planned to go premed for a while, but it wasn’t me. I spent some time working in my dad’s office when I was younger. Dad constantly complained about the people with chronic problems caused by their own actions. Like smokers with COPD and emphysema, and diabetics who refused to monitor their diets or keep up with their medications. I wanted to help people, and if I did his job, I would constantly be afraid of becoming jaded like he is.”

  A surprised, dry laugh escaped him then. “I’m sorry. But I’ve never really told anyone all of this.”

  “It’s okay. I’ve never gone into that much detail about my family issues, either. I guess this is a mutually beneficial emotional-dumping day.” Stacey twisted a slight grin in his direction. It was probably the pain meds talking, but what the hell. She raised her water glass.

  “Here’s to family. May we be a constant disappointment, a thorn in their sides, and the reason they regret procreating.”

  For a moment, she wondered whether her impromptu toast had offended him. He didn’t raise his glass, but he did reach out and gently catch her arm by the wrist, lowering it gently to the tabletop.

  “Let’s change that up. May our families realize the treasures they have in front of them, and if they don’t, may we have the strength not to give a fuck.”

  Her heart, which had stopped at the unexpected physical contact, restarted with a thump. She laughed and nodded. His returning smile made her belly flip-flop. To cover her nervousness, she reached for a chip and crunched it loudly.

  “You’ve got—” Rob leaned toward her. “There.” His fingertip flicked a crumb from her top lip. She stared, frozen. He didn’t move his hand away, but his fingers trailed the line of her lips, softly, back and forth, as if he was memorizing their shape and feel.

  His touch was so warm, so gentle. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she struggled to breathe. Her heart was pounding in her throat, just from that simple touch.

  “Are you ready to order?”

  The cheerful question from the waitress who’d appeared out of nowhere startled Stacey so much that she actually jumped.

  Rob answered, ordering for both of them while Stacey gulped water like mad.

  “Are you okay?” he asked once the waitress had gone.

  “Oh yeah, I’m fine.” No. She wasn’t fine. What was that? Why had he been so sweet, touching her like that? Was he interested? That night in the locker room, had it been more than a once-in-a-lifetime shot? What would she do if he wanted more? What would she do if he didn’t? It wasn’t some weird experiment anymore, in which she practiced flirting with a ten so a respectable five would give her the time of day later. This was real life, in the middle of the d
ay, and he had really made somewhat of a move there—hadn’t he?

  “You look like your brain is about to short-circuit. Care to share what you’re thinking?”

  “Bathroom,” she managed to squeak out. “I need to go use it.” She grabbed the crutches and scooted her chair backward with her good foot.

  “Sure. It’s just past the bar there, where that potted plant is.”

  She flashed a smile. “Thanks.”

  Hobbling toward the safety of the bathroom as fast as her battered body could carry her, she cursed herself for a coward. Why couldn’t she just ask him if he was interested? Why did she have to be such a chickenshit?

  Because it makes zero sense that he’d be into you. He’s gorgeous. You’re average at best.

  Her inner voice was right, but damn it, she needed more reason than that.

  In the safety of the unoccupied bathroom, Stacey perched atop the closed lid of the toilet, stretching her bum leg out in front of her. The cracked screen of her phone might not be the most attractive thing in the world, but it still worked well enough. Finding it in the bag of her belongings that had been scraped out of her defunct vehicle had been an unexpected boon. The call connected a moment later.

  “Stacey! I’ve been so worried about you. I got the meeting postponed. How did the doctor thing—”

  “Hannah, I need some advice, quick.”

  Chapter 14

  Something had changed for him, and he wasn’t exactly sure when it had happened. He frowned at the ring of condensation left on the dark wood of the table by his water glass.

  He liked Stacey. Genuinely liked her. Not because she was a client he wanted to help. Not because they had shared an incredible encounter in the locker room. Not because she’d looked amazing in his T-shirt, the fabric stretched over her beautiful breasts. But something in the way she’d listened to him, really listened. She was kind. Sweet. A good person.

  And he wanted to get to know that person much better. So, he’d indulged a bit.

  He took a sip of his water. He’d startled her, but she didn’t look like she’d hated the contact. On the contrary, she’d been closing her eyes, melting into his touch, when the waitress had interrupted.

 

‹ Prev