“I thought you weren’t going to stay at work late anymore.”
“I assure you I ran this by your mother.” He raises an amused eyebrow. “Am I in trouble with you?”
“No.” I purse my lips to contain a smile. “Do you need anything?”
“Not at the moment. Do you want to help me with rehab?”
“Sure.” I shrug a shoulder. “Anything is better than cleaning.”
Dad chuckles. “Come back and get me when he arrives. Set him up in room five.”
“Got it.”
I walk away and go down the hall to room five, switching on the lights and making sure everything else is set up. I’m not an expert by any means, but one room I know well is this physical therapy room. There are five in this practice, all catering to different things. Room five is simple, just a patient bed, a computer screen that takes up one wall that’s used to show patients scans, X-rays, and even exercises they should work on at home. It’s definitely a state-of-the-art facility that Dad is proud of. I sanitize the patient bed quickly before setting a new strip of paper on it just in case before I hear the buzz of the front door and walk in that direction. I look up at the screen beside the door to see who’s outside and freeze momentarily before unlocking the door.
“You have got to be kidding me.” I pull the door open. “You’re following me here too?”
“Following you?” He huffs out a single laugh. “You think way too highly of yourself if you think you’re worth following.”
“Well, then, what are you doing here?”
“I have an appointment with your dad.”
“You?”
“Yeah.” He looks at me like I’m the one who’s crazy, and now that I’m taking a step back and letting him walk inside, I realize that all of that probably came off as a little crazy. Not that I’ll admit that to him or anyone. I shut the door and lock it behind him before brushing past him and walking in front of him.
“Follow me.”
“What are you doing here anyway?” he asks behind me.
“Working.”
“You have two jobs?”
“I am capable of working two jobs, you know.” I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. I’m not going to tell him that even though I hate cleaning, this is by far the easiest job since it’s only once a week. Not that it’s a job per se since dad’s not paying me for it. It’s more like a cleaning internship. I laugh at that.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” I stop at room five and open the door, waving a hand for him to step inside. “Why are you here anyway?”
“I injured my left shoulder last season.” He says it like the mere words leave a bad taste in his mouth and looks at me like I’m at fault.
“Oh.”
“So, what do I do?” He looks around the room.
“Just wait here. I’ll go get him.” I walk out of the room and jog over to Dad’s office, knocking once before opening the door. “He’s in room five.”
“Perfect.” Dad looks back down at the paper in front of him. “Do me a favor, have him take his shirt off, and power up the computer. I’m going to send you a file that I need opened on the big screen.”
“Okay.” I walk out and jog over to room five, coming to a dead stop when I fully realize what my dad just asked me to do and who I’m supposed to ask to do this. “Um . . . ” I bite my lip.
“What?” Jagger turns to face me.
“I need you to take your shirt off.”
He chuckles. “Okay.”
I give a nod and walk over to the computer, turning it on. I’m trying really hard not to watch Jagger do as instructed, but it’s impossible and not because he’s hot or anything. He seems to be struggling with the task. After a few seconds of hearing him huffing and sighing, I stand up and look at him.
“You can’t take your shirt off?”
“I practiced today,” he says.
“Okay?” I blink.
“My shoulder’s tight.”
“Okay,” I say with a little more confusion.
“I need help, okay?”
“Taking off your shirt?” I squeak.
“Yes.” He glances down at his sneakers. “Look, this is uncomfortable for me too.”
“Having a woman take your shirt off makes you uncomfortable?”
“No.” He glances up quickly, shooting me a dirty look. “Obviously not.”
“Having me do it makes you uncomfortable?” I frown.
“Well, we’re not exactly doing this for recreation, Josephine. This is about my fucked-up shoulder, so yes.” He’s shooting daggers at me.
Rather than saying anything back, I walk over and reach for the hem of his black cotton T-shirt. I start lifting it slowly, my fingers brushing against his warm, tight skin, unable to ignore the defined V or perfect six-pack underneath it as I uncover each inch of skin. I swallow when I reach his chest and pause there since I know this is the part that’s uncomfortable for his shoulder. I meet his gaze and find him staring at me, expression dark and smoldering.
“I’m trying not to hurt you,” I whisper.
He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t look away from me as he tucks his healthy arm out of the right sleeve, leaving the shirt bunched up against his neck and his left sleeve still on. I reach up and he ducks slightly to help me pull it over his head, the movement putting me nose to nose with him. My heart is hammering so loudly now I can barely think let alone breathe correctly.
“Focus, Josephine,” he whispers.
I nod, my nose brushing against his as I finish pulling his shirt off his other arm and take a step back just as my father’s footsteps get closer and he walks in the room.
“You’re late,” Dad says behind me and even though I knew he just walked in, I jump to the other side of the room, still holding Jagger’s shirt in my hand. “Next week you have to be on time. I can’t stay late every week.”
“It won’t happen again. I was stuck explaining to Coach why I wasn’t going to use the team’s PT.”
“Coach?” Dad raises an eyebrow, then looks over at me, then at Jagger. “You went to practice?”
“I did.”
“Did you just have my daughter help you take off your shirt?”
“Yes.” Jagger clears his throat.
“Which means you can’t do a simple task on your own,” Dad says. “Which means you shouldn’t have been practicing today. What the hell are your coaches thinking?”
“I told them I was fine.”
“You told them you were fine and they listened?” Dad shakes his head. “Pull up the file I sent, Josephine.”
I click the file and watch as a ton of different X-ray pictures pop up on my screen and the big screen beside me. I click the first one. I know I’m looking at a shoulder, but I have no idea what to look for in an X-ray, so I don’t even try. I set Jagger’s T-shirt down beside me and click on the next picture and the next as Dad instructs me.
“It’s still healing,” Dad says finally. “He did a great job pushing it back in place. Have you been doing the exercises he recommended?”
“Not really.”
“Have you been laying off the weights?”
“For the most part.”
“For the most part,” Dad says. “Do you want to get back on the field or not?”
“Of course I do.”
“You’re not acting like it.” Dad shoots him a hard look.
Once he finishes looking at the pictures, he goes over exercises with Jagger, winding motions, him standing with his back against the wall and bringing his arms up to a v-position. They do five different exercises that seem fairly easy but all make Jagger hiss out in pain. I feel kind of bad for him. When they’re done, Dad pats Jagger’s arm, rubs antibacterial gel on his hands, and tells him to come back next week. As he’s walking out, he glances at me.
“Can I trust you to lock up tonight? Your mother’s been waiting for me.”
“Sure.”
�
�Finish sweeping the floors. I’ll know if you don’t.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t even worry about the bathrooms. Milton said—”
“I know, Dad. Donna already told me.” I shake my head and look away.
“Well, Josephine, I don’t think I need to explain to you why you’re here, do I? Because if you need me to go over the things you’ve done wrong and the lapse of judgment—”
“I’m good, Dad,” I mutter, keeping my eyes on the ground, wishing I could totally disappear from earth in this moment. “Thank you for letting me pay you back and stuff.”
“You’re welcome.” He walks out.
Jagger is still standing there, but thankfully hasn’t spoken a word. I’m pretty sure if he does or says something nice I’ll start crying right on the spot. I give myself a count of ten before taking a nice deep breath, shutting down the computer, and grabbing Jagger’s shirt. I toss it to him as I walk out of the room.
“I’ll be in the hall.” I turn around and start walking out.
“I need help putting it back on.”
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I pivot around and walk over to him, grabbing the shirt from his hand. I avoid eye contact as I help him slide his left arm into the sleeve, put the neck over his head, and step away. “You really should not be practicing right now.”
“I could have put it on myself.” He grins.
My jaw drops. “That’s not funny.”
“I beg to differ.” He finishes putting on his T-shirt and I turn around and walk into the hall, picking up the broom to continue cleaning.
“You want help?”
“No, thank you.” I focus on the floor.
“You sure? I don’t mind.”
I stop sweeping and look at him. “You can’t even put your shirt on. You think you can help me sweep?”
“I have my right arm. You’d be surprised at the things I can still do.”
“I’m good.” I shake my head, fighting a blush and dirty thoughts. “Really. If Dad caught wind that I let someone help me with this . . . ” I shake my head. As it is, his words caused a lump in my throat that I haven’t yet gotten rid of and I need Jagger to leave before I can cry in peace.
“You want company?”
“Nope.”
“Okay.” He shrugs his right shoulder. “See you around then, Roomie.”
I don’t even watch him leave. I’m so pissed off and sad at what my dad said and Lawrence’s stupid NDA and those are the only things that get me through my angry sweeping session. The last thing I need is to focus on Jagger Cruz and his kindness and his gorgeous face or his stupid muscles.
Chapter 15
Jo
“Did you kiss though?” Misty asks, taking a bite of the fried chicken sandwich in front of her. She came to have lunch at the bar today since I’m working and it’s always dead on weekdays during lunch.
“No.”
“No?” She raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”
“The last thing I need in my life is another cocky athlete.”
“Jagger’s not cocky.” Misty wipes her mouth as I shoot her a look. “I mean, yeah, he is, but not in an obnoxious way like Lawrence, who thinks he’s a gift to womankind.”
I can’t argue there. All three of the Cruz brothers know they’re good-looking, charming, and rich, but they don’t go around flaunting any of those things. The credit definitely goes to their parents, who made them get regular jobs at fourteen and pay for their own expenses. Even though I’ve always poked fun at them for having someone who does their laundry and cleans up after them, I can’t really say much about their responsibility. Not even I had a job before and sure my parents are well off, but it’s not like they’re MLB contract loaded.
“I saw Mitch the other day.”
“Oh?” Misty focuses on the sandwich she’s suddenly deconstructing.
“Yeah, you know, at the barbecue you skipped out on last minute.”
“I was busy.”
“So you said.”
“Are you calling me a liar?” She glances up at me.
“I think you probably knew Mitch would be there and you wanted to avoid him.” I let out a laugh. “Which is interesting to say the least. A hot guy who will for sure play pro baseball, because that’s all Dad talks about these days, I mean . . . ” I blink rapidly. “Sign me up.”
“I thought you were done with athletes.”
“College athletes.” I pick up the rag and keep wiping the bar. “I’d consider dating a major leaguer.”
“You’d consider it.” She laughs, shaking her head. “You’re such a clown. Let me know when you start getting offers from major leaguers.”
“I will.” I stick my tongue out at her and walk to the other side of the bar, still wiping, before serving her another water. “Has Mom said what we’re doing for Thanksgiving this year?”
“No, but Greece is a definite no-go. Dad booked a surgery that Wednesday.” Misty rolls her eyes. “I swear he’s a workaholic.”
“Well, him being a workaholic affords us some pretty cool stuff. Like that Chanel bag.” I jut my chin toward the black bag on the bar.
“This was a graduation present, thank you very much.”
“Yeah, because all high school graduates are given a freaking four-thousand-dollar present.”
“You got a car.” She raises an eyebrow.
“Which you’re currently driving.”
“Only because you decided to get a DUI while driving and then crashing a freaking Maserati, Jo.” She shakes her head. “I seriously always thought I’d be the one to screw up big, but that’s kind of unattainable on the level of screw-ups.”
“I know. You don’t need to remind me.”
“Dad literally spent as much money as he spent on this bag to make sure your record would be expunged, so technically you could have gotten one of these bags too, maybe even two of them.”
“Okay. I get it.” I swallow. The door that leads to the kitchen opens and we both snap our heads to see Uncle Adrian walking through.
“Hey. My favorite nieces.” He walks over and pulls me into a quick hug before reaching over and tapping Misty on the head once. “You finally decided to get smart and have lunch here instead of spending your money elsewhere.”
“Yeah, but unless you want me to have a heart attack by age forty, I’ll probably go back to my overpriced green shakes and acai bowls.”
“You trying to say my food is unhealthy?” He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t let your grandmother hear you talking like that. She loves Lucia’s food.”
“Oh, Nana knows,” I say. “Why do you think she never invites Misty to dinner anymore?”
“She invites me.” Misty frowns.
“No, she doesn’t.” I smile.
“So, listen, Maverick Cruz is here now, and your father wanted to do a proper welcome party for him since he did it for Jagger and Mitchell,” Uncle Adrian says. “I’m going to need you to close up now and come back at five.”
“Tonight?”
“Yep.” He glances over at Misty. “I would love it if you could help. It’ll be easy, just setting plates in front of people and picking them up. The bar will be open, but they’ll have to come up to get their own drinks if they want anything besides water.”
“I can’t help.” Misty’s eyes widen. “I mean, I can’t.”
“Why not? It’s eleven-thirty. If you’re sitting here, I’m assuming you don’t have class today.”
“I don’t.”
“So what’s keeping you busy?” Uncle Adrian raises an eyebrow, but before my sister can even think of an answer, he says, “I need you here tonight, Mist. Have I ever asked you for a favor?”
“No.”
“Okay, then. Be here at five. Oh, and pick up Grandma while you’re at it.”
“Me?” Misty blinks. “Why do I have to pick her up?”
“You’re the one with the better car.”
“Yeah, but I live all the way across town. I
t only makes sense if Jo picks her up. Besides, Jo’s her favorite.”
“I’ll do it,” I say, because I don’t mind picking up my grandmother and I really am her favorite.
“She’s going to hate that damn Celica,” Uncle Adrian says.
“Well, tough luck. I hate the damn Celica and I drive it every day.”
“Fair enough. I’ll call her and let her know to be ready by four-thirty.” He walks back into the kitchen.
“I can’t believe this. Mitch will probably be here,” Misty says.
“Probably, but who cares?” I shrug a shoulder. “You can’t avoid him forever.”
“Right.”
* * *
When I walk into the house, I hear a woman’s laughter, which is weird since Jagger’s car isn’t even parked outside. Maybe he parked down the block and I didn’t see it? As I set my keys down beside the door and slip off my sneakers, I hear a door open and the woman’s laughter gets louder, then stops completely as I glance up and meet her gaze. It’s the one from our math class. The one from the other night. I feel my cheeks burn as I glance away just as Jagger walks out of the room, pulling on a T-shirt.
“You’re the roommate,” she says, smiling as we walk by each other. “I think I’ve seen you on campus.”
“Finite Math,” I say.
“Oh. Right. I’m Jessa.” She smiles giving a little wave.
“Josephine.”
“Josephine,” she repeats, taking me in slowly. “I like that. It suits you.”
“Okay. Thanks. It was nice to meet you.” I wave at her and walk toward my bedroom, completely ignoring Jagger who’s standing there as well. For some reason, I can’t even look at him right now.
As I open my bedroom, I glance over my shoulder to his open bedroom and see the rumpled and messy bedsheets. There’s a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach as I open my door and shut it behind me. I give myself a moment, leaning against the door and breathing in and out a few times. I don’t even like Jagger like that, so why is it that every time I see him with a woman I feel like I’m being punched in the gut? After a few seconds, I push off the door, sit on the bed, and pull up my math homework, which I find surprisingly easy. When I finish, I pick up my phone and scroll social media. I’ve been lurking for months. Since the accident. Since I got kicked off the volleyball team and my parents acted like disowning me might actually be a better solution to deal with or not deal with the outcome of the embarrassment I caused. I almost hit like on Kelsey’s picture, but decide not to. My teammates, the girls who always said they had my back, abandoned me after the accident. Maybe Coach told them to distance themselves. Maybe they decided to do it on their own. Still, it hurts. I have my sister and I love her to pieces, but I miss my friends. Just as I’m setting my phone down, it vibrates.
Fall in Love Book Bundle: Small Town Romance Box Set Page 96
