Zander smiled. “Thanks. I guess that besides acting, teaching was my other passion. When I missed the boat for acting and knew it wasn’t going to happen, I made a choice to follow another dream. In high school, I’d volunteered in the special classrooms for students with severe developmental disabilities. I loved working with the kids, and I just felt like it gave me such joy and purpose. When I was figuring out what to do with my life, this seemed like a good fit. And it is. I love my job, I do.”
Talented, into theater, humble, and compassionate. If Rachel had a checklist for what she was looking for in a partner—which she most certainly did not—he’d probably be ticking all the right boxes. This guy was too good to be true. Which meant he probably was. But that wasn’t something that needed addressing.
“I can see you’re good at it. The kids love you. I could tell in five minutes of walking in the room,” Rachel admitted, smiling as Zander talked more about some of the students and his job. She could tell he was following his passion, and that was something she found sexy in a man.
If she were looking for sexy or a man—which she, of course, wasn’t, she reminded herself. Again.
“You know, you don’t have to pick one. Maybe you could find a way to follow both of your passions. Think about how inspiring it would be for your students for you to chase those Broadway dreams. You should audition.”
“I can’t do that. I don’t have a degree. I don’t have an agent or really any recent acting experience,” Zander argued.
“So change that. What’s stopping you? You’re still young.”
“Is twenty-nine young?”
“Considering I’m thirty-one, then yes.” She grinned.
“And your youth may be what helps you recover from this fall, Ms. Winters,” a voice echoed from the corner of the room as the doctor stepped in. “We have your test results.” He eyed Zander, silently telling him to leave. Zander started to stand up.
“No, it’s fine. He can stay,” Rachel said, feeling nervous at just the sight of the doctor.
Zander nodded, sitting back down, as they both awaited the results.
“The good news is you don’t have a concussion. You’re lucky, considering it was quite a fall from what I’ve heard. Be sure, though, to see a doctor if you have any odd symptoms, severe headaches, forgetfulness, confusion, blurry vision, all of that. But I think you’re out of the woods as far as head injuries go.”
Rachel exhaled, feeling relieved that at least something was going well.
“That’s the good news. The bad news is your ankle isn’t doing as well. Now, it isn’t broken, which is good. It’s just a sprain, but don’t let that fool you. Sprains can be pretty rough to heal.”
“Okay, so just stay off it for like a day, right?” She could live with that. She’d already missed this evening’s show, and she was sure Michael would be okay with her missing tomorrow. She’d be back at it by Monday, singing and dancing her way through the play again.
“I’m afraid you’re going to need to stay off of it as much as possible for the next two weeks at least if you want it to heal. No walking for the next several days and then limit walking as much as possible. I can get you crutches so you can get around, and then we’ll have to assess the situation in a couple of weeks and see where we are.”
“What? A couple of weeks? I’m on Broadway. I can’t perform with crutches,” she exclaimed, shaking her head. This was no good. Two weeks off? She couldn’t be off the stage for two weeks. This was a disaster.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Winters. But look, do what you’re told to do for the next couple of weeks, take good care of it, and it could be back to new before you know it. But listen, if you don’t stay off it, you’re going to risk doing worse damage. All in all, you’re lucky you came out of this pretty unscathed. Take a while to rest and give yourself time to heal. This wasn’t a small fall, you know. Now the nurses will be in to go over some things with you and fill out some papers, then I’m clearing you for discharge. But stay off of the foot. What’s that they say in show business? The show must go on? It will go on without you, Ms. Winters, for a couple weeks. Take care of yourself.”
She groaned. “I believe they also say break a leg, so that wasn’t the best reference,” she argued. The doctor laughed.
Rachel felt frustration bubbling again, thinking about how every time she got ahead, she fell back a few steps… or a whole flight of stairs.
“And, you, take good care of this woman. I can tell she’s got a stubborn streak. You’ve got your hands full,” the doctor said, pointing to Zander and winking.
“Oh, we’re not a couple,” Rachel argued, as if that mattered.
“Sure, you’re not,” the doctor said, chuckling as he shook her hand before leaving the room.
Rachel was too devastated to say anything, her mind racing with the bad news and what it could mean for her career.
“I’m sorry,” Zander said, scooching his chair closer. “But it’ll be okay. I’m sure your director will understand. These things happen.”
“Yeah, they do. They always happen to me. When am I going to get a break?” she whined. But then she looked at Zander and felt guilty.
So many people would kill to be in her shoes, getting the chance to be on Broadway. She shouldn’t be complaining. Still, it was aggravating. She wasn’t one to be held down, to sit around and wait. She was the one who was always moving and doing and trying. She needed to be actively working toward her goals, which meant she needed to be able to actually work. Sitting on a sofa for two weeks while the show went on without her was a sickening thought.
Rachel Winters didn’t just sit still and let opportunity fly by. However, after this whole stunt, it looked like that was about to change.
“Thank you for staying with me,” she said sincerely, looking at Zander again. “I appreciate it. Tell your kids I’m so sorry I ruined their acting class.”
“You didn’t. And you’re welcome. Rachel, look, I don’t know you very well, but I’d say spending a few hours together in a hospital room sort of lets you see a lot about a person. And I’m just going to say I think you’re too hard on yourself. Cut yourself some slack. Give yourself a little bit of permission to live a bit. You don’t have to be perfect, you know?”
She grinned. “Thanks,” she said again, and even though she was seeing visions of her Broadway star fading out before it was even really lit, she smiled.
Zander Riley was right. You did get to know someone after spending hours in a hospital room together. And despite the situation and the embarrassment and the sadness, she did like what she’d gotten to know about him.
She really did.
Chapter 4
Zander
Cards, flowers, and chicken soup in hand, Zander paused at the door to apartment 309. He took a deep breath, reassuring himself this wasn’t a terrible idea.
He’d helped Rachel to her apartment on Saturday when they had finally been released from the hospital. He insisted on riding with her in the cab to help her maneuver things and get her settled in. She’d been insistent he didn’t need to, but he told her he was going to see the whole thing through, which meant making sure she was safely at home on the couch with everything she needed—including a decent cup of coffee he’d promised her. He’d helped her get situated with drinks and magazines. He’d even ordered her takeout, waiting until the deliveryman got to the door so she wouldn’t have to get up again. She’d assured him over and over she was fine and didn’t need him to call anyone, so he’d finally left, hesitantly, extremely late. He’d gotten home really late that night, much later than he’d expected. His cat, Jon Snow, had been overjoyed at their reunion, mostly because his food bowl had been empty. Exhausted, he’d fallen into bed thinking about the black-haired beauty who had stolen his entire Saturday—and maybe even more.
He fell asleep thinking about Rachel’s smile, her exuberance, and how dangerous it would be to see her again, especially if he wanted to protect his heart.
Spending a day in a hospital was never Zander’s idea of fun, but somehow, Rachel had made it worth it. Helping her out, holding her hand when they came to do more tests, and just getting to know the beaming woman who had blown into his life unexpectedly that morning hadn’t been the worst way to spend a Saturday.
Standing at her door, though, he debated if he’d made the right choice. It had been two days since the balcony throw down, and maybe he shouldn’t be standing here right now. Would Rachel think he was a bizarre stalker? Or worse, what was he expecting to get out of this whole encounter? It’s not like he was looking for a relationship. Sheila’s scars were still visible, and even though Rachel had certainly shaken something in him, making him feel like his heart was ready for a maybe, it still wasn’t ready for a yes to love. That was for sure. Nothing good could come of this.
He was here already, though, after the short cab ride from his apartment to hers. Plus, the kids at school had spent so much time making cards for Rachel. Katie had insisted her card was on top, and Rocky had written a heartfelt note about how he was glad his 9-1-1 call had saved her life. Zander had smiled at the sweet sentiment. If nothing else, he had to deliver the cards as promised.
It will be fine, he reassured himself. It’s not even really a big deal.
He’d just drop off the cards, the chicken soup, and the flowers, thank her again for being so nice on Saturday, and leave. He would forget all about Rachel Winters and her wonderful laugh and her gorgeous body and….
Not helpful, Zander told himself. Not helpful at all.
He knocked on the door, taking a deep breath. He heard the familiar clinking of the crutches, a few mumbles of what sounded like expletives, and then the door opened.
“Zander?” Rachel asked, clearly not expecting him.
He didn’t have to tell himself to paint on a smile, though, because as soon as he saw her, he felt his face light up whether he wanted it to or not. Today, she wore sweatpants and a T-shirt that said “More Merlot, Please” with a giraffe sipping wine on the front. Her hair was in loose waves around her face. And even though she clearly hadn’t been expecting company, Zander thought she looked even more gorgeous than the first time he’d seen her.
And this time, the way his body screamed with electricity just from seeing her, just from standing next to her, it was undeniable.
She did something to him. More than a little something, too.
He was in trouble. Real trouble.
“Sorry for intruding. How are you?” he asked as she stood back and motioned him in, her hands aimlessly running through her hair as she seemed to take inventory of her own appearance.
“I’m okay. These stupid crutches are so annoying, though, and I’m going a bit stir crazy. I can’t believe the doctor thinks I should stay off this ankle for a couple of weeks. Who does he think he is, anyway? Has he ever tried staying off a foot for two weeks? Doesn’t he understand I have a life?”
He grinned as he recognized the defiance simmering over in her.
“Well, we thought you might be feeling a little down, so the kids made you cards, and I brought you some chicken soup. Oh, and if you tell me where your vases are, I’ll put these in water.” He could feel himself talking a mile a minute, nerves creeping in. He didn’t know why. He’d spent enough time with Rachel to know she was easy to talk to, but there was some sort of tension rising up, tension he hadn’t expected.
Rachel smiled. “That’s sweet, thank you,” she replied as she crept over to the counter where he had placed the stack of cards. She picked up Katie’s from the top of the pile and smiled as she read it.
“Oh, and the vase,” she said, looking up. “I don’t think I have one. But there might be a big mug or something in that cupboard.” She shrugged.
Zander opened the cupboard and found a huge mug that said “Messy Hair, Don’t Care” and put the roses in them as best as he could. It wasn’t a perfect fit, and it wasn’t going to be Instagram-worthy, but it would do.
“So how did Michael take everything?” he asked, wondering if he should broach such a sensitive subject but not really sure what else to talk about.
She sighed, taking a seat at a stool at the tiny kitchen island as he stood nearby. “He was understanding. But it’s killing me not being there, you know. I hate just sitting around, at the mercy of my stupid ankle. I can’t stand how annoying it is to do simple, mundane things like shower or do laundry or just about everything. Even sleeping is a chore these days.”
“It’ll heal. Just keep taking care of it. Do you need anything while I’m here?”
She looked up at him. “No, I’m okay. Really. It was so nice of you to swing by, though. How did the kids like the show?”
“They loved it. That’s all they’ve been talking about. Katie keeps singing the songs over and over.” Zander took a seat by Rachel, settling in. He could tell she was glad to have someone to talk to, so he eased into the situation a bit.
“That’s so sweet. It’s so nice you are all fostering a love for the arts in them. I think that’s beautiful. Tell them when I’m all better, I’ll make it up to them for ruining their workshop. I’ll do an actual one, no balconies this time.”
“Deal. They would love that so much.”
“Me too. Other than the dramatic balcony fall, I was enjoying myself with them. It’s good to see kids excited about theater.”
“It is. It’s one of the things I love about the school I work at. They really pour money into the arts. I think it’s what draws some of our students to the schools. They’re getting more arts education than their counterparts in some public schools, for sure. And to have a school for the developmentally disabled where the focus isn’t just on the basics but on fostering a passion for creativity, well, it’s a beautiful thing.”
Rachel nodded. “I love hearing you talk about your job. I can tell you enjoy it.”
“I do,” he admitted. “It wasn’t always my plan for my life, but I’m thankful it worked out the way it did. Those kids are amazing, and I love working with them.”
“It shows.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to ramble on,” he apologized, looking down at the counter on the island.
“Don’t apologize,” she said, putting a hand on his, the warmth of her soft skin bringing his attention right back to her. “It’s good to see someone with passion.”
“So what have you been doing with yourself?” Zander asked, needing to change the subject from passion, especially with her hand on his. She sensed the tension, pulling back her hand and fiddling with a loose strand of hair in her face.
“Well, I’ve been buzzing through Grey’s Anatomy again and Glee on alternating shifts. Pretty intense around here, you know?”
Zander smirked. “Really?”
“What?” she asked, hitting his arm playfully.
“Glee? Really?”
“Are you suggesting a thirty-something is too old for Glee? Because I think you’re never too old for a fabulous show.”
“I’m saying everyone is too old for Glee.” He shook his head. He never understood the obsession with that show, and he loved theater and teaching.
“Oh, stop. You know you love it. Come on? A musical performance group and teaching? It’s like made for you.”
Zander shook his head. “You know even if I did like the show, I wouldn’t admit to that one. I have to hang on to some of my reputation.”
“And what reputation is that?” she asked, smirking.
“I don’t know if you sensed this, but I’m kind of a tough guy. You know?” He pulled at the shoulders of his T-shirt, pretending to posture.
“I don’t sense that at all,” she said, seriously. “All I see is a guy with a big heart who oozes kindness.”
Zander felt his cheeks warm. “Well, I guess I’m going to have to work on that, then.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being the nice guy, trust me. The bad boys are overrated.”
“I take it you’ve been down
that road?” he asked, curious now about her cryptic words.
“Once before. Let’s just say I learned the hard way that love and careers don’t mix, and the bad boy isn’t always the guy to think about forever with. You know?”
“If I had some champagne, I’d toast to that,” Zander replied honestly. “The love and careers thing. I don’t really know about the whole bad boy situation.”
“Well, if you can stay for a little bit, there’s some champagne in the fridge. My best friend, Georgie, and her dog, Tapioca, brought me some over for an impromptu party last night to cheer me up.”
“Sounds like a great friend,” Zander answered as he sauntered to the fridge to retrieve the bottle.
“She is a wonderful friend. The best a girl could have. She was actually quite mad I didn’t call her to come sit with me in the hospital.”
“Well, luckily, I heard you had a rather wonderful guy to fill the job.” Zander turned and shot Rachel a wink that made her giggle.
“No arguments there. Oh, champagne glasses are in the upper cupboard.” She pointed to a corner space, and Zander opened the cupboard to find tons of pink, sparkly glasses. Rachel shrugged. “Sorry. It’s my favorite color. This might not help improve your manly reputation.”
“A little pink never hurt anyone, I suppose.” He popped the cork and poured two generous glasses, carrying one over to Rachel who willingly accepted the glass.
“Shall we toast?” he asked, raising his glass.
“To what?”
Zander rubbed his chin for a moment, pretending to think. “To a speedy recovery for you, and to chasing passion.”
She smiled, holding her glass up and clinking it against his. “To both of those things, and then some.”
“And then some,” he said, never taking his eyes off her, even as he took his first sip of champagne and thought about how wonderful it was just being here with her, pink glasses and all.
And wondering if maybe it really would be the beginning of something—but what that something was, Zander was a little bit afraid to figure out.
No Time for Promises (The No Brides Club Book 3) Page 3
