Conor sounded intrigued. “So, who was this girl? You sounded more interested in her than you have anyone in a long time. Well, except for the mystery girl.”
“Jena? She was a girl on our team that I sort of had a thing for.” Nick smiled, remembering Jena’s green eyes and perpetual smile. Not to mention her hot body.
“So?” Conor’s voice broke into Nicholas’s thoughts. “Did you hit that?”
“Nah. I tried a couple of times, but she wasn’t as into me as I was into her, I guess.”
Conor snorted laughter. “A girl that can resist Pretty Boy? I like her already, man.”
“Yeah. I did, too.” Nicholas sighed, hoping for a night of dreamless sleep.
He didn’t get it. The mystery girl left him alone, but Jena replaced her. Nick dreamed of the last time he’d seen her, at that crazy party at Diane’s house. Same place, the talking and the dancing, but this time Jena let him walk her home and he got to see the body he’d been rubbing up against all night and fantasizing about for months. He got to run his hands over the smooth muscles of her back and behind, over the soft skin of her neck. Nick finally got to feel her mouth and hear her whisper his name…
And then the alarm rang. Shit.
The rest of the day was a blur of movement as Nick and Conor hastily left Jabba’s house and made their way to their new apartment to begin moving in. Of course, Conor expected Nick’s help in moving his enormous pile of crap into the house. Nick grudgingly acquiesced, and was overjoyed to find that Mrs. Grady had indeed been left behind, even if nothing else was.
Late that afternoon, all that was left to move was Conor’s huge flat screen. He had wrapped it gently in quilts and surrounded it with pillows at the very back of the truck.
“Jesus Christ, Conor,” Nick groaned as they rounded the corner of the second flight of stairs, arms shaking as he tried to hold up his end. “How much does this thing weigh?”
Conor shrugged, trying to keep the television balanced as they struggled up the stairs. “Maybe we should have taken Pudding Boy up on his offer to help,” he grunted between clenched teeth.
“Hell no! We’d have been stuck with him all day.”
They paused as the horror of that thought overwhelmed them, and then continued the slow, torturous climb to their third floor apartment.
Conor had already installed the crap to hang the TV on the wall above the small faux fireplace, so they were soon straining their arms to get it situated properly. Conor had his side attached securely when Nick felt the legs of the chair he was standing on start to slide out from under him.
“Conor!” Nick bellowed, thinking his best friend would try to help him as the chair slowly tipped backward.
No fucking way.
Shouting, “Oh, shit!” Conor slammed his shoulder into Nicholas’s gut as he caught the tilting edge of the TV to keep it from falling.
The chair flew backward, and as he fell, Nick tried to catch himself with an outflung arm. Big mistake. He felt a white hot flare of pain in his right shoulder as his full body weight landed on the arm that was twisted behind him to stop his fall.
“Son of a bitch!” Nicholas thought he was going to throw up from the pain.
“Oh, shit, Nick. I’m so sorry!” Conor’s worried face loomed over Nicholas. He gently checked the shoulder out, each touch making Nick want to scream. “What do you want me to do, man? I think it’s dislocated, but I’m not the EMT.”
Nicholas reached over and felt it gingerly. “Yeah, it’s dislocated. I need you to pull my arm out firmly, Con, and guide the ball back in the socket. I’ll probably yell, because it’s gonna hurt like a bastard, so don’t worry about it, okay?”
Conor nodded, eyes grim. Nick took a deep breath and signaled Conor to begin.
“Holymotherfuckingbitchcocksuckingshit!” Nick yelled as he felt the ball slip back into the socket and the pain lessen, but not as much as it should have. He breathed deeply, staring up at the ceiling to keep the tears in his eyes. “Conor, I need you to call my dad. This should feel a lot better, but it doesn’t. Tell him what happened and then give me the phone.”
Of course, Nick’s dad wanted to fly out right away, worried that his son’s medical career was over before it started, but Nick convinced him to wait until they knew if there was a reason for him to change his schedule. Eventually, Dr. Cooper agreed and made a call to a good friend and colleague of his at the university hospital to set up an appointment right away. Luckily, Dr. Call was on his free day and was willing to go into his office to check Nicholas out.
“Thank you for doing this, Dr. Call,” Nicholas said as the doctor was unlocking the door of his office, where he’d had Conor and Nicholas meet him.
“It’s Noah, Nicholas, and you’re welcome.” Dr. Call smiled. “I haven’t seen you in years.” Nick nodded, following Dr. Call and sitting on the indicated table. “Your dad tells me you will be joining us at the med school this fall. I’m glad to hear it.” As he was speaking, Dr. Call began gently examining Nick’s aching shoulder. After several uncomfortable moments, Nick was relieved when Dr. Call nodded and patted his uninjured shoulder. “Okay, I want to X-ray this and get an MRI, but I’m pretty sure you have some stretching of the ligaments and perhaps a small tear. If I’m right, you’ll have to baby this to be ready for school in a couple of months.”
Nicholas glared at Conor and then relented when he saw how miserable Con looked.
After the X-ray, Dr. Call confirmed his initial diagnosis. “It’s just as I thought. I want an MRI to be absolutely sure, but for now I’m going to give you a tight sling, and send you down to our physical therapy department to have a treatment plan worked out. They’re very good with caring for this type of injury, since they work with the school athletes. Call tomorrow and I’ll have your MRI scheduled.” He walked Nicholas to the door, asking pleasant questions about Nick’s mom and dad.
As they reached the door, Nick noticed Conor wasn’t with them any longer. Nick turned to see Con watching a tall, curvaceous blonde step off the elevator. She noticed him watching, smiled wickedly, and put a little extra swing into her walk as she sauntered down the hall. Conor watched with great pleasure; even Nick had to pause for a minute, before he realized that Dr. Call’s voice was getting fainter.
Nick grabbed his roommate’s arm and hurried to catch up to Dr. Call, who hadn’t noticed that they had stopped.
“You and Mr. Grady should come over for dinner tomorrow, Nicholas. I’ll have the scheduler give you the address when you call about your MRI.” Dr. Call handed Nicholas his orders for the physical therapy department, gave him directions to the PT suite, and headed out the door after a final wave.
Conor clutched his chest theatrically, his head still turned to watch the elevator door close behind the girl. “I think I’m gonna like Cali, Nick.”
Chapter Five
WHAT A SHITTY DAY, Jena thought, rubbing her neck.
The football team was on campus for training, and it had been a mad dash from one ass grab to the other all week as Trav and Jena worked out treatment plans for all of the idiots who thought they could screw around and pound beers for two months and still come back to camp in shape. The coach was known for being merciless in the first week back, and the PT workload was showing it. Just that day, Jena had treated guys with sprained ankles and wrists and hamstring injuries, and she swore to God, if one more fool asked her if having a groin pull meant he got a groin pull, she was gonna go Lizzie Borden on his johnson. Whack-whack.
Finally, the last joker on the agenda was due, and Jena was determined to let Travis handle him. Tom Finley was a wrestler, known campus-wide for his Roman hands and Russian fingers, and he didn’t give up easily. Fuck that. Last time she’d worked with him, Jena was forced to bloody his nose “accidentally” with her elbow before he would let go of her boob.
“Hey, Travis, I’m heading out since we have only one more customer waiting,” Jena said casually, passing him the last file and hoping he would le
t it slide when he saw the name. “Do you want me to pick up anything for dinner on my way home? I was thinking Thai sounded good.” Jena dangled the prospect of his favorite food waiting when he got off work in front of him, hoping he’d bite.
“Sounds good, sugar, but no can do.” He straightened up from the desk where he had been finishing the chart on his last patient. Since he and Leisa had been fucking like bunnies, Travis’s normally calm demeanor had become almost coma-like, and his usually faint Montana twang was more pronounced. Jena didn’t know if he was too damn tired to restrain it, or if it had something to do with Leisa’s love of all things cowboy. If a saddle appeared in the living room, Jena wouldn’t be surprised. As long as it wasn’t on Travis, she could deal.
“Carrie called from the front desk, and we have a new patient coming down right now. Shoulder injury. We’re supposed to talk about proposed treatment and show him around. Sounds pretty easy. You take that, and I’ll handle the meathead.” Travis smiled and attempted to ruffle Jena’s hair, but since it was in a braid he didn’t do much damage.
Jena sprang up, using both hands to ruffle Travis’s hair into his eyes. Usually that would be grounds for a major war, as Travis’s hair was sacred to him, but this time he just laughed. “You think you’re messin’ with me, Jen, but I don’t care,” he said nonchalantly, winking at Jena. “It’s just gonna look like this in about an hour anyway.”
“No way!” she screeched. “I’ve had to leave the house every night this week. I’ve seen every movie in town. Leisa is not staying over tonight.”
As he turned to argue, the receptionist stepped in and handed him a chart. “Look sharp, guys. This one is a special request from Dr. Call.”
Travis whistled. “Straight from the big guy himself. Too bad you get to earn all of the brownie points for an easy one.” He took a look at the name on the chart and his shoulders started to shake with restrained laughter. “This should be good.” He held the folder out to Jena.
Travis laughing about a client was not a good sign. Jena reached out gingerly to take the chart from him, like he was extending a deadly viper in her direction. “What?” she asked. She looked and froze. Nicholas Cooper. “No fucking way,” Jena whispered, and immediately shoved the folder back at Trav.
He backed away, hands up in front of him, grinning. “You made me promise you’d never have to work with King Kong again, Jen. This should be an easy one for you, since you’re intimately acquainted with the shoulder in question. I’d bet he’ll do whatever you want.” He dropped into the desk chair, eyes sparkling.
“This is not funny, Travis,” Jena hissed at him, looking nervously over her shoulder to be sure Carrie wasn’t taking it upon herself to try to earn her brownie points with Dr. Call by taking Nicholas on a personal tour of the facility.
Jena unleashed the full power of puppy dog eyes on Travis. “I really can’t do this. Pleasepleaseplease take this chart, and I’ll do anything! I’ll buy dinner and go out for the night. I’ll even stay in a hotel for the weekend so you and Leisa can deface the entire apartment with bodily fluids until I have to come home on Sunday.”
Travis was immune, damn him. “That’s just nasty, baby. I always corral those little swimmers. On the other hand…” His eyes glazed and he drifted off for a minute. Suddenly, his glance toward Jena became calculating. “Tell you what. You stay out of the house tonight and I’ll take The Stud. But I think you’re making a mistake, Jen. This is the perfect time to see what’s up with the guy.”
Jena felt the red begin to creep across her face. “No, thanks. So we have a deal. You get him and I get The Perv.” She sighed. The trade was wickedly unfair. “Do you have an extra set of scrubs I can borrow?”
Travis looked at Jena’s exercise shorts and fitted tee, her regular work clothes, and grimaced. “Yeah, I guess you shouldn’t tempt Tom any more than you have to.” He reached into his gym bag on the floor and handed Jena a set of blue scrubs. “Although I think you’d have to whack your tits off to discourage him much.”
“Nasty right back at ya, honey.” Jena slapped his head. Heading toward the locker room, she called over her shoulder, “Can you check if Mr. Grabby’s waiting yet while I change?”
“And see if Mr. Sexy is already in the waiting room, so you can avoid him?” Travis rolled his eyes and headed out toward the waiting area.
Tom was waiting on the massage table when Jena left the locker room and his session went about as well as she had expected. Jena had to make him lie back on the table to avoid his hands so she could work on loosening his leg muscles before he started on the machines. Finley had injured his knee in his last match the previous year, and was trying to get off the bench this season. All Jena could say was that it was too bad he hadn’t injured his arms when he wrecked his knee. It didn’t help her patience level that she was tense about Nicholas coming in.
Though her back was to the door leading into the therapy room, Jena knew the moment Nicholas and Travis entered. A tingle ran up and down her spine, and a second later she heard Travis explaining the usual treatments for stretched ligaments. He started to give Nicholas the ten-cent tour of the machines, and Jena casually shifted her position to keep her back to the pair.
“Are you cold, sweetheart?”
Jena glanced up at Mr. Pervy and found him staring with rapt attention at her chest, which was busily giving him a show even through the baggy scrubs. Crap.
“Down, boy.” Jena tried to sound as bored as she could and moved back a step, but not far or fast enough. Tom sat up suddenly and reached out, grabbing her forearm and hauling her close to him.
“I have tons of body heat to share, gorgeous,” he murmured in what he probably thought was a sexy voice, trying to lick Jena’s neck.
Okay, gross. Jena grabbed his nose between the second knuckles of her right hand and twisted just a little, enough so he gasped and let go of her arm.
“Tom, we talked about this before, remember? Personal space, my friend.” He nodded, muttering something below his breath. “We need to work on the machines now, so are you going to behave?” He nodded again.
Jena let go slowly, watching Tom carefully; he seemed disinclined to attack again so she handed him his crutches and helped him hobble to the first machine. The rest of the session went well, though half of Jena’s attention was always following Travis and Nicholas around the room. Finally the routine was almost over, and Jena was anticipating a quick dash to the changing room to hide until Nicholas was gone when the Lickin’ Loser decided to try again.
“Okay, last set.” As she turned toward the last machine, Jena’s head jerked back slightly. She sighed as she realized that Dumbass had grabbed her braid. “Damn it, Finley! I’ve had enough of this crap. Let me go now.”
He shook Jena’s braid and pulled her toward him, chuckling. “What if I don’t want to, honey?”
Enough screwing around, Jena thought.
“Tom, this is your last chance. I know the coach has been ordered to cut you from the team if there are any more incidents of sexual harassment, and this qualifies, stupid.”
He just tugged her back a little more. Jena glanced across the room, and spotted Nicholas and Travis watching closely, Nicholas with concern. Travis knew better than to step in.
“Dumbass,” Jena muttered, turning quickly and grabbing the wrist of Tom’s clutching hand, pressing on a nerve that she knew would cause his fingers to immediately relax. The excruciating pain was just a side benefit. She almost felt sorry for him as his high, drilling shriek rang out, and he clutched the hand to his chest. Problem solved.
Jena almost forgot her audience as she checked Finley’s hand and sent him on his way. Just in case he rediscovered he had balls, she quickly wrote up the incident and reminded herself to get Travis to include a verifying note.
The tiny hairs that had escaped from Jena’s braid during the fracas suddenly stiffened, and she was surrounded by a very familiar scent.
“Jena?” Nicholas’s voice was
low and rich, and in this moment, unsure.
Jena felt her shoulders slump forward a tiny bit more before she gathered her courage, raised her head, and turned to face him.
Her dreams hadn’t even begun to do him justice. Even her memory fell short. When she had last seen Nicholas in college, he was a beautiful young man, lithe and lean. Her memory of their New Year’s Eve tryst was clouded by booze, darkness, and lust. Now Jena had her hands full just trying not to stare.
Oh, my Lord, Jena thought. I slept with that. Fuck me.
Jena realized she had stared a second too long, because his already tentative smile began to fade. Oh, right. He was talking now.
“You are Jena Baker, right? I saw you across the room, and I’ve been trying to decide,” Nicholas said in a rush. “I asked…Travis, right? He said you went to UO…” Nick’s words trailed off, to be replaced by an awkward silence as color began to rise from his shirt collar.
Time to stop staring at him. Speak, stupid!
She shot a grinning Travis a death glare before shaking her head slightly and answering Nicholas, looking somewhere in the region of his chin to avoid his eyes. “Oh…yeah. Hi.”
Nicholas’s smile widened, and he reached out for an awkward left-handed shake. “Wow, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” He held Jena’s hand for a second longer than normal before dropping it.
She felt herself flush. New Year’s had been a while ago, true, but not so long that Jena had forgotten the feel of his stubbly chin on her stomach, or his tongue, or…
“Yeah, it has.” Jena shifted uneasily, regretting her decision to stare at his chin. It was simply too close to his neck, where she found her attention focused on the tendon she had nibbled on until he moaned.
Dragging her eyes upward, Jena smiled. “What have you been up to, Nicholas?”
He shrugged, leaning against the machine behind him. “I’ve been living in Boston for the last six years or so. My friend and I just moved to Davis yesterday.” He grimaced, gesturing toward the sling. “Moving injury.”
Cocktails & Dreams Page 5
