The Rebel: A Bad Boy Romance

by Aria Ford

  She smiled. Her bony fingers squeezed my muscled palm. “I guess you are,” she said gently. “But really, I don’t know why you would be.”

  I chuckled. “Well, not many girls want disabled guys.”

  She shot me a look. “How would you know?”

  That made me smile. “Well, I guess I wouldn’t. I’m not a girl, am I?”

  “Well, quite!”

  We both laughed. It had been too long since I spent time with Mom. In many ways, we were very alike. She always seemed to have this weird ability to read my mind, and I could do the same with her. After a long moment, she asked me something.

  “What’s worrying you?”

  “Well…” I considered it. “The thing is…I don’t want a woman to feel sorry for me. And I hate the pitying looks, the whole thing. You know that.”

  “You said so,” she said quietly. “But…you know, have you considered you might sometimes imagine it?”

  I blinked. “No. I don’t. It’s there.”

  She sighed. “I can’t argue with you, Jay. I don’t want to. But I’m just suggesting that sometimes you expect people to pity you when they don’t.”

  “You don’t know what it feels like,” I said hotly. “I used to be recognized everywhere. Now, even if someone does know who I…who I was…it’s different.”

  Mom reached for my hand again. I flinched but didn’t withdraw. She touched it gently. Her skin was papery and soft. I felt myself relax. There’s something very special about a mother’s touch sometimes.

  “This is hard for you,” she said levelly. “I think it’s hard for anyone. I can’t imagine how it feels to wake up one day in a body that’s different. Especially when your body was so much a part of who you are. But Jay…only you think it lessens you as a person.”

  I snorted. “Me, and my teammates and manager. And thousands of fans.”

  “No,” she said softly. “You think they think that. Did you ask?”

  “No.”

  “Well, then,” she said. “My point exactly.”

  I sighed. This wasn’t getting me any closer to understanding the situation with Margo. I was fairly certain she’d take my injury pretty hard. Admittedly, she hadn’t asked about it. If I hadn’t known, it was completely impossible not to notice it. In fact, I’d think she hadn’t.

  “Mom, I don’t know what to do.”

  “You mean, this girl?”

  I nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “What bothers you about her?” she asked. “Is she strange about it? Your leg, I mean?”

  I laughed. “That’s pretty direct, Mom.”

  She blushed. “I’m sorry, son. I just asked.”

  Oddly, her refusal to inch around the point made me feel like it was more acceptable, somehow.

  “Well, not exactly, no. In fact, she seems not to have noticed.”

  Mom blinked. “Well, that’s not so bad.”

  I sighed. “It’s just…I’ve changed so much and….well…I worry that she’s attached to the old me.”

  Mom frowned.

  I guess that, since she didn’t know the history that wouldn’t make sense.

  “Would it make a difference to her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I think,” she said slowly, “that you should give this thing time. I mean, instead of assuming that she’s going to be put off by your injury, why not give her a chance to show you what she thinks?”

  “Well, it might be painful,” I acknowledged.

  “It might be,” Mom agreed levelly.

  I laughed. “Thanks, Mom. You’re really compassionate.”

  She grinned brightly. “You know what I mean, son,” she said. “I mean, at the end of the day, isn’t it better to receive an honest wounding than to live your life expecting one that might never really happen?”

  I blinked. “I guess so.”

  She said nothing, just reached across and put her hand on mine. “Well, then. I think that makes sense.”

  “Me too.”

  We sat quietly for a while and then she stood heavily.

  “I guess I should go see if the dishes are washed yet,” she said.

  I stretched, feeling the knots in my back ease out. One of the things about crutches was they gave you a hell of a backache sometimes. “I’ll help.”

  She put a hand gently on my shoulder. “You don’t have to.”

  “I know,” I said, covering her hand with my own. “But I want to.”

  She smiled. “It’s good to have you back.”

  “I can unpack things,” I said with a chuckle.

  She pulled a face. “Son, you know that’s not the point.”

  “I know.”

  We were both still laughing when we went down to the kitchen.

  Later, I sat upstairs and thought over what she had said. I guess I did tend to assume that people cared about what I looked like and what I could do. It never really occurred to me to wonder if they liked me for who I was.

  Maybe Margo never fell in love with just my body. Maybe she liked me.

  It was a revolutionary idea.

  I chuckled to myself as I reached for my laptop. You’d think I would have thought about something like that before now. But I hadn’t.

  Everything, from my college acceptance to my friends—it all seemed to come through my ability to play pro football.

  Now, with a paralysis of the leg, I had thought I’d lost everything. This conversation with Mom was the first time in almost four years that I’d thought about the good things in my life as arising from anything other than my ability to walk, jog and tackle.

  But maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t so.

  I opened my email and started writing.

  Hi Margo, I wrote. I paused. How to say what I wanted to say without letting on how highly attracted I was? How much I couldn’t stop thinking about earlier? How much I wanted more of that?

  Hi Margo. It was great to see you. I was wondering if you’d like to join me for dinner tomorrow night? It’d be good to catch up some more.

  I closed my eyes and sent it.

  Whew.

  When it was gone, I found my mind following another track. I thought about how seeing Margo had made me feel. She was so, so sexy. Those red lips had made my loins ache. I wanted to push my tongue between them and explore the wet cave of her mouth like I remembered doing.

  I knew she’d probably be shocked. She had a right to know about my leg. About my story. I would have to go slowly.

  All the same, I was excited about tomorrow. There were so many things I wanted to say to Margo, so many things I wanted to tell her and ask her and show her.

  So many things I wished I could do—hold her hand, kiss those red lips, feel that soft, cool skin under my warm hands. But I should stop thinking about things like that. I couldn’t expect that Margo would want to have anything to do with me anymore, not as I was now.

  All the same, there was nothing wrong with hoping.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MARGO

  “Right. I’m going to dinner with Jay. Be cool, Margo. It’s not a big thing…” I was trying to calm down, but it wasn’t working.

  My heart was thudding, my whole body freaking out like a tree in a thunderstorm. I couldn’t think straight. This was ridiculous! Anyone would think I hadn’t ever been on a date before!

  I tried not to think about the previous afternoon. After that, I was surprised Jay had contacted me again. I thought that maybe my behavior would shock him. I’d certainly shocked myself. I didn’t like to think what would have happened if any passing newspeople had followed my car.

  Well, nothing happened. It would be everywhere if someone had seen me. It was a stupid risk.

  I sighed. I wasn’t going to be mad at myself. I couldn’t have resisted Jay if I’d tried. Not at that moment. And despite knowing how dumb it had been, I knew that if I was given the same scenario right now, I’d do the same thing.

  At this moment I was in front of the mirror, o
ne black dress on my body, another one in my hand. I was trying to make up my mind between the two.

  The one I was wearing was knee-length, with a pencil skirt and a loose, blousy top. I loved it. With my hair pulled up in a severe bun, my makeup a slightly dressy take on natural, I looked elegant and chic. At least I was hoping I did.

  I didn’t want to look overdone, because then he might think I was desperate. At the same time, I didn’t want to look underdressed. How was I supposed to look for this date anyway?

  I don’t even know if it is a date, or if it’s just Jay’s attempt at saying sorry. I had no idea what all this was about. He had been quite uncommunicative about our—well—incident in the car. His message was still polite and cool, not exactly friendly.

  I repeated the words of the message. They didn’t indicate anything. It could be a message from a college friend, not an ex-boyfriend. Cool, polite and not overly interested. Well, I would just have to make the most of it. Was he trying to pretend that what happened yesterday hadn’t happened? I was used to Jay’s ability to disengage enough for me to think that was exactly that.

  The restaurant we’d decided on—well, I had suggested it in my reply, and he agreed—was a place called Haldon’s, a fancy restaurant on Jefferson Street. If nothing else, at least I would go to a nice place.

  I’m wearing this dress.

  I put the other one, a black dress with floral designs around the hem, red tulips, onto the bed. It was too formal and maybe too flirtatious. This one conveyed a cool, detached outlook. Not that different to his message. And definitely suitable for the restaurant. My decision made, I turned once more in front of the mirror and then headed downstairs.

  If he wanted to pretend yesterday hadn’t happened, and that he wasn’t really interested in me, he could try. I wasn’t planning to make it easy for him. I was having a hard time forgetting about it, and I didn’t see why he shouldn’t suffer just a little for it. And I wanted it to happen again.

  I was shaking like a leaf by the time I reached the restaurant. Stupid, I knew. But there was nothing I could do about it. If I screwed up on this date, I would risk losing Jay again. But it wasn’t entirely fear that was making me shake, I knew—it was excitement. I was excited about seeing him again.

  “Jay.”

  He was early, typical of him, really, and sitting at a table in the corner. I smiled down at him and he smiled up at me.

  “Oh. Hey, Margo. Glad you could make it.”

  He tried to stand to pull out my chair and I quickly slipped into it, seeing that it was going to be awkward for him to get across to it while trying to balance on crutches. If he was offended by that, he didn’t give any sign. I sat down and smiled at him.

  “A nice day, hey?” I said brightly, indicating the setting sun outside the window.

  “Mm,” he agreed. “We’ve had great weather.”

  “Yes.”

  I reached for the menu, unsure what else to do. If weather was all he could talk about, well it was unfortunate. There was tension between us, so many unspoken words that the air seemed to shiver with them. I studied the list of drinks, not wanting to negotiate the space of silence between us.

  I couldn’t quite believe I was here. Memories of yesterday kept on intruding and my whole body was on fire. I wanted him so much. I couldn’t get away from it—if I looked at his strong, muscled hands, I remembered them touching me. If I looked at his lips, I could feel them on mine. His shoulders made me remember how sweet it felt to be held so tightly.

  And he was sitting there discussing the weather? Well, I thought archly, I could do the same.

  “I’ll just have water, I think,” I said after a while, when he said nothing. “I need not to have bags under my eyes tomorrow.”

  He smiled. “I’d forgotten about that.”

  I laughed, despite my tension. He had always teased me about that—the fact that I always had water. He did the same thing before a game, or even before heavy training. Alcohol wasn’t going to help his body any.

  “Well, what are you having?” I asked with a quirked smile.

  “Water,” he said.

  We both burst out laughing. When the waiter arrived, he looked from one of us to the other with confusion on his face.

  “To drink, sir?”

  “Two waters,” Jay managed to say. He caught my eye and I pressed my lips together to stop myself from laughing. When the poor guy had gone, we started giggling again.

  “You haven’t changed,” he said. His voice was warm.

  I smiled, feeling that voice stroke through me like warm silk. “You either,” I said softly.

  He grinned back. His eyes twinkled.

  Damn those blue eyes! They could always get anything out of me. My heart beat faster and I focused on my clasped hands, struggling for composure. I felt as if my abdomen was melting, his voice and his smile stroking me like his hands once had.

  “So,” I said brightly. “How’s work?”

  “You mean the consulting?”

  “Mm.” I nodded. “Oh, thanks,” I added to the waiter, who handed me the glass then discreetly withdrew. Probably scared of provoking any craziness from us.

  “Well, the consulting is good. Though I’m not sorry to have a holiday from it now.”

  “I bet,” I said. “You’re here for a week, yeah?”

  “Yeah. Back on Monday.”

  “Oh.”

  I was saddened by that thought. That meant we had only five days left together in the same town. Just as well, I thought, that we had chosen tonight for a date.

  “You’re living in Houghton now?” I asked conversationally. I was trying to ignore the fact that I could feel his knee next to mine under the table. I swallowed hard.

  “Um, yeah,” he said with a smile. “Nice place, really. Can’t complain. Good to be back in Wisconsin again.”

  “I guess,” I said. I didn’t know he had been outside of Wisconsin. There was so much about the recent years that I didn’t know.

  “Yeah. I went to college in Michigan,” he said. “After…” He trailed off.

  I drew in a breath. It was the first time he’d mentioned the accident. I didn’t want to do or say anything that would break the spell. I waited for him to say something. When he hadn’t after about a minute, I cleared my throat.

  “I guess we should look at the menu?” I asked.

  “Oh yeah. Right.”

  The smile that flashed across his face lit up his eyes.

  I felt it shiver through me and set my body alight. I coughed and moved a little in my seat, trying to hide how aroused his presence made me feel. It was my treacherous body and its memories. I turned to the menu and scrolled a thumb down the list.

  He looked at me shyly. “Margo?”

  “Mm?”

  “Can I have your number?”

  I smiled. “Sure,” I said.

  “Well, I guess it’s easier than email, right?” he said with that soft smile.

  I chuckled. “You bet.”

  We exchanged numbers and I felt my heart skip as he texted to check it was right, then put the phone in his pocket.

  I saw the waiter hovering. I gave a little giggle and reached for the menu. We were going to be in here all night at this rate! “We should check the menu,” I said.

  “Oh yeah. That,” he said, grinning. He lifted his and I hid a smile as he read it. He seemed to give it intense consideration.

  “I like the sound of the grilled perch, myself,” I said after a moment, underlining it in the menu.

  “Sounds good,” he said with a shrug. “I think I’ll go for something heavier.”

  I smiled. “You always did.”

  He chuckled. “I guess I’m used to training hard.”

  The wistful look that crossed his face made my heart twist. I got a glimpse, just then, into how much this accident had hurt him, what it meant to him.

  “Well, you’re in great shape,” I said carefully.

  He looked as if I�
��d slapped him.

  I regretted instantly what I’d said. I should have tried to avoid making comment on his body.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

  He shrugged. “It’s okay.”

  We sat in uncomfortable silence for a while. Then he turned to me with a hesitant smile on his face.

  “So, you had an interview yesterday?”

  “Interview? Oh yes.” I chuckled. I’d almost forgotten about that. Crazy, really.

  “Yes,” he smiled. “It sounded important?”

  “It was,” I said, feeling a big smile spread across my face. “It just slipped my mind, now.”

  “Oh?”

  I gave him a look. “Well, yeah. I guess seeing you was more exciting,” I said.

  He stared at me. The blue eyes were wide, a sort of disbelief shining in them.

  I swallowed hard.

  “Really?” he asked.

  I chuckled. “Well, if you’re gonna force me to admit to it, yes.”

  He laughed. It was a delightful sound, warm and rich and friendly.

  I felt it lift my heart and warm every inch of my body.

  “Margo,” he said softly. “I…thank you.”

  I smiled at him.

  He smiled back.

  This time, when his knee moved between mine, I knew he’d done it on purpose. My breath stopped in my throat and the world seemed to go quiet. The warm skin pressed against me and I shivered as he pushed it higher, authoritatively parting my legs. The restaurant with its chatting clients, the clink of glasses and the soft sound of waiters taking orders all faded away. Everything was still, and it was just the two of us.

  I let my knees move apart and his knee pushed further between mine. My ankle felt the light brush of his toes. I let out a shuddering sigh. He was so close, so warm. My whole body was tingling and throbbing. I closed my eyes. I wanted him so much.

  My own toe brushed his ankle. I heard him sigh. I made a little tickle under the bone, feeling the thick, hard muscle there. This was the leg that still worked, his left leg. I teased him with my foot, making traces up the calf and back down again. When I looked at him his eyes were slits of longing.

  I remembered that stare, the way he looked at me. I felt my heart thump and my breath sang in my ears. My blood was throbbing in the most unlikely places and I found it hard to think straight.