by Desiree Holt
“At least you’ll have friends to hang with, right?”
He thought this was the strangest conversation for him to have with a stranger, poking into her business like this. But what else should he talk about?
Cassie sat back in her chair, setting her cup carefully on the table.
“To tell the truth, most of the people I was friendly with were seasonal. They’re all back in their home states. Margie’s one of the few I’ve really connected with since I’ve been back.”
She took one of the croissants, set it in front of her, and tore off a tiny piece. He watched her chew, fascinated by the play of muscles in her jaw. Damn! What the hell was wrong with him? She was probably already sorry she’d invited him to sit down.
“So what’s your deal?” she asked. “Not too many people choose to visit here after the summer’s over unless they’re hiding from something. Is that what your deal is? Wait.” She shook her head. “Don’t answer that. It’s incredibly rude of me. Your business is your own.”
He tipped his lips up in a hint of a smile. “That’s okay. I’m not doing so well with conversation, either.”
“I saw you watching that ancient lobster boat this morning. Thinking of going into the. business?”
He actually laughed. “Not on your life. I’d go nuts.” He lifted his cup and took a swallow of the hot liquid. “Let’s just say I’m re-examining my priorities in life.”
“Oh?” She lifted an eyebrow. “What did you do before this?”
“I was a Navy SEAL.”
Her eyes widened. “No kidding? SEALs are incredible. Thank you for your service.”
He nodded. “Welcome.”
“So, what did you do before becoming a SEAL?”
“Nothing.” He took another swallow of coffee. “I signed up right out of high school.”
“No kidding? Wow.” She ran her tongue over her bottom lip.
Sam found himself hardening just watching her. Oh, fucking great. His dick had been in hiding since he got hurt, and it chose now to wake up and join the party?
“Yup. So it’s not like I have something to go back to.” Not to mention he had a lame wing and couldn’t do a lot of shit.
She grinned at him, and her entire face lit up. “But think of all the choices you have open to you now. You can do anything you choose.”
He snorted. “Yeah. If only I knew what that was.”
She tore off another small bite of her croissant and chewed thoughtfully. “What did you do with the SEALs?”
Killed bad guys and protected the country.
He shrugged. “Stuff. Anyway, I have a …challenge to take care of before I can do anything but jog on the beach and sit on the porch.”
Now why the hell did he say that? She’d ask questions, and he wasn’t happy talking about it.
“Like what? Sorry. It’s not really any of my business.”
Well, dipshit, just tell her.
“You may have noticed my left arm isn’t working all that well.” He tried to make a joke of it. “Witness the mess I made on the floor.”
“Oh, please.” She flapped a hand in the air. “That was just as much my fault. I was busy talking and not paying attention.” She studied him for a long moment. “But I see that it’s not in the best working order. Did you injure it?”
“Yeah, you could say that. An IED shredded it, and it took three surgeries to put the pieces back together.” He shrugged. “Getting it to work properly again is iffy.”
She frowned. “But didn’t they send you to physical therapy? I would think that would be at the top of the list.”
He nodded and took another slug of coffee. “While I was in the hospital and for a couple of weeks later.” He shrugged. “They wanted me to continue, but I just wanted to get the hell out of town. The lease was up on my apartment, and there just didn’t seem to be much point to hanging around. Anyway, I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life even if my arm does get fixed. I’ve been a SEAL for twelve years. That’s all I know.”
He hoped that didn’t sound as pathetic to her as it did to him. He was just tired of people giving him sympathetic looks and watching his former teammates spin up for new missions. He had lost his dating skills and had been too wrapped up in self-pity to relearn them. When Wildcat told him to get his ass out of town and get his shit together, he’d done just that. Left town, anyway. Getting his shit together was still another matter.
“Then shouldn’t you get your arm taken care of so you can figure out what to do with the rest of your life? If you wait too much longer, you won’t be able to repair a lot of the damage.”
He frowned. “Why do I get the feeling you know what you’re talking about? And I mean from experience.”
She chewed another tiny piece of croissant. Sam wondered if she was enjoying it or merely using it to organize her thoughts.
“You’re right. As a matter of fact, I happen to be a physical therapist.” She’d had to be registered in Maine to take the job. She had just prayed Patrick had looked before she did that and found nothing.
Sam stared at her. “No shit? I mean, no kidding?”
Cassie chuckled. “No shit. Right now I’m working at a new family clinic that opened in town. During the seasons I’ll work with the high school sports teams, men and women. Plus, we have a ski resort not far from here. You wouldn’t believe what skiers do to themselves. Especially the greenhorns.” She sighed. “And then, of course, there are the idiots who drive too fast on icy roads, break their bones, and have to be taught to use their bodies all over again.”
Sam took a bite of his croissant, taking a moment to appreciate the flavor as it burst on his tongue while he mentally sifted through what she had told him. At least she was a lot better looking than the therapist he’d been working with at the hospital. He supposed there was something to be said for that.
As if she could read his mind, she added, “Don’t think I’m easy on my patients. I can be mean as hell when necessary.”
He couldn’t help grinning. “Yeah? I’m. not sure I believe that.”
“It’s true, alright. Why don’t you give it a try? If you hate it, you can walk out, no harm, no foul. You sure won’t be any worse off than you are now.”
He nodded. “That is true.” He noticed they had both finished their coffee but were still picking at their pastries. “How about another cup?”
Cassie looked at her watch and sighed. “It’s very tempting, but I have a patient coming in at ten thirty. Sam, I don’t want to force you into something, but you do need to resume your therapy sooner rather than later. I can refer you to someone in Bangor, if you’d rather—”
He held up his hand. “No. It would certainly be convenient doing it here. Besides, the next person I’m rude to might not be nice enough to have coffee with me.”
She studied him for a long moment, almost as if she could really see inside him. The thought made him squirm.
“Okay.” She reached into her purse and fished out a business card. “This is for the clinic. If you’re serious, have your doctor call me so I can talk to him and get him to send me your records. And I’d like you to come in tomorrow for an assessment.” She pulled out her cell phone and scrolled through it. “Will eleven o’clock work for you?”
He actually laughed. “I think I can clear my schedule.”
Cassie took one last bite of pastry, swallowed, daintily wiped her mouth, and pushed back her chair. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow. The address is on the card I gave you.”
“Uh, thanks. And I’ll have the doc get in touch with you.”
She flashed a smile, and her dimple winked. “I know this isn’t easy for you, Sam. Thanks for at least trying to trust me with this.”
He nodded and stuck the card in his wallet.
They looked at each other for a moment, as if neither one knew what to say next. Then Cassie stood, pulled on her jacket and zipped it then held out her hand.
“I look forward to hearing from
your doctor and seeing you tomorrow.”
He rose also and took her hand, shocked at the electricity of the contact. Her eyes widened, a sure sign she felt it, too. He broke the contact, nodded again, and picked up the pastry box from the table. He stood there, watching, as she maneuvered her way through the tables and past the line at the counter to the door. Even after she disappeared outside, he stood rooted to the spot.
What the hell had just happened? His social skills were rusty, diminished by his self-pity. Yet, in less than thirty minutes, he’d agree to let a woman he’d just met evaluate him and start a physical therapy program with him. One week, and his planned isolation and solitude were fading.
She’s just a therapist, he reminded himself. She was just offering her professional services, something he hadn’t even been sure he wanted. Yet he knew he would follow through. For the first time in weeks, he actually found himself smiling
Sitting behind the wheel of his truck, he pulled out his cell and the business card and punched in a familiar number. In moments, he was connected with Dr. Charles Baird.
“Glad to hear from you, Sam. What’s up?”
”I have some information I think is going to make your day.”
Chapter 3
Cassie slept restlessly, too many things swirling in her mind. She kept dreaming about Patrick, the conversation she’d overheard about the drug business he and his partners were running, and whether he’d be able to find her. Mixed in with that were images of a SEAL way out of his comfort zone, rootless, and dealing with an injury he felt diminished him.
She’d spent the evening researching his situation online and learned how, especially with SEALs, they had trouble finding a place for themselves if they had not planned ahead. Most of them had made plans to be a SEAL until it was retirement time. She could imagine what it must be like to suddenly find your whole life an empty page and you had no idea what to write on it. She knew her treatment of the man would have to include a lot more than just physical exercises if she wanted the treatment to be successful.
She woke at three in the morning, shaking and covered in perspiration. She stumbled into the bathroom and swallowed two aspirin with a glass of cold water. Wiping her face with a damp cloth, she stared at herself in the mirror over the sink. Holy crap. She actually looked like something out of a nightmare. She’d better get some more sleep and get her act together. She had patients coming in today, including that sexy, brooding former SEAL with the gimpy wing.
Sexy? Brooding?
God, Cassie. Get your act together.
She was still knotted up over her last relationship with a man who had come with a dose of trouble she hadn’t expected. The last thing she needed was to hook up with a man possessing obvious emotional problems along with his physical ones. But damn! Something about him that sizzled the air around him. His rugged good looks combined with the sense of despair that clung to him sent her hormones into overdrive. When they shook hands, did he feel the same crackle of electricity she had?
Okay, enough. She made sure the alarm on her phone was set for seven, crawled back into bed, and closed her eyes, willing her mind to shut down. When the alarm went off on time, she felt anything but well rested. She gritted her teeth through a cold shower, hoping to wash away the fog and wake up her brain. She needed to be in top shape for her new patient. As it was, she was pretty sure it would take all her discipline to be friendly yet detached, and wasn’t that just a kick in the pants. His doctor had called the clinic yesterday, discussed his situation, and emailed her Sam’s records along with the program the therapist at the hospital had devised.
She was appalled at the damage that and been done to his arm, and how many operations it had taken to put it back together so it was even useable. No wonder he was depressed.
Cassie didn’t want to bombard him with questions about his situation, especially since she sensed an invisible shield he’d constructed around himself. Instead she had asked as casually as possible if he had a support system—family, friends, significant other. But Sam Alvarez seemed to be a loner. He had friends but apparently had stopped communicating with them. No woman in his life. And she sensed he had distanced himself from his immediate family after his injury. No wonder he’d ended up in an isolated cottage in Castile, shutting out the world.
“I should also warn you,” Dr. Baird said. “Even though his years as a SEAL had already made him somewhat of a loner, his injury has him a little on the antisocial side.”
“I noticed, but I get a fair number of patients like that. For most of them it’s due to the resentment that comes with their injury. Don’t worry. It will be fine.”
She thought about the conversation now as she drove to the clinic. She did indeed often get patients like that. The difference was, none of them made her skin tingle the way Sam Alvarez did. As she’d studied the notes Dr. Baird had sent, and thought about putting her hands on Sam’s body, she was annoyed at the little shiver that raced over her. Not to mention the pounding at each pulse point in her body.
She remembered that now as she drove through town.
Get it together, Cassie. You’ve got enough troubles as it is.
She stopped at Rolling in Dough for coffee and a muffin. As usual at this hour, the place was jammed. Anna, Margie’s barista, was busy serving the long line of customers snaking up to the counter. Margie was nowhere to be seen, probably in the back preparing more goodies. She must have seen Cassie come in, however, because suddenly she was there, pulling Cassie to the side.
“I’ll get your usual to go,” she said, “but only if you give me the scoop on the hunk from yesterday.”
Cassie smiled but shrugged. “I know very little about him. He’s a former SEAL with a badly wounded arm who apparently came up here to hide away from everyone. That seems to be the norm with very active people whose life pattern has changed this way. That’s about all I know.”
She wasn’t about to share any additional info, even as close as she and Margie had become. The man was about to become her patient—provided he actually showed up—and sharing information of any kind was a no-no.
“Does he need physical therapy?” Margie grinned. “Is he coming to the clinic?”
Cassie couldn’t help laughing. “He’s supposed to. We’ll see if he in fact shows up.”
“Maybe he’ll invite you to have coffee with him again.”
“Yesterday was a fluke. An accident. And I’m not looking to hook up with anyone.”
Margie sighed. “I know, more’s the pity. You’ve been pretty much a hermit since you moved up here. You need to socialize with someone besides me sometimes.”
Cassie just shrugged. “Maybe I’m out of the socializing business for a while. You know how happy I am we connected like we did. Your friendship is all I need right now. Can we please leave it at that?”
The more people she befriended, the wider her social circle became, the greater the chance that her presence here night leak out to Boston. You never knew who had friends where. Just because she hadn’t told Patrick about the cottage in Maine didn’t mean he might not find out from someone else. So what if she hadn’t told her roommate about it? People like Patrick had connections everywhere. Maybe he’d even text her photo to people to be on the lookout for her. The thought of it made her nauseous.
“You okay?” Margie touched her arm, a look of concern on her face.
Cassie drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Yes. I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep so well last night.”
“Hmmm. Okay, hold on a minute.” Margie hurried into the back. When she returned, she held out a small white paper bag. “Special herbal tea. I stock it here, and I swear by it. One cup at night, and you’ll sleep like a baby.”
Cassie had to smile.” Margie, you are my angel.”
“No, just your good friend. Now, wait here, and I’ll bring your coffee. Croissant or muffin today?”
Cassie laughed. “Muffin, please. Chocolate.”
Cassie was
still smiling when she left with all her goodies and climbed into her car. She cranked the engine and was looking for a break in traffic before pulling out into the street when a black Escalade drove past. She stopped breathing for a moment. Patrick drove a black Escalade. He said he preferred it to sportier cars. That it gave him a feeling of power.
Stop it, she told herself. There had to be plenty of Escalades in the area. It wasn’t as unique as, say, a Lamborghini or a Tesla. Or whatever. Still she sat there for a moment until her hands stopped shaking and the urge to vomit passed. She had to stop this. She’d come here because Castile was safe.
Maybe she could call Maxine, who had been so worried about her. She could ask if Patrick had contacted her or sent someone around. But how to contact her? If she used her new phone, that gave Patrick a way to track her. Even if she somewhere found a pay phone. Who was to say Patrick wasn’t taping Maxine’s calls? She wasn’t totally stupid. She knew criminals, like law enforcement, could tap phones.
Right now, she could do with a heathy dose of Maxine’s hardass brashness and warm friendship. Then she reminded herself she had Margie, an unexpected blessing. She couldn’t tell her about Patrick, but maybe she’d ask her to come over for dinner, some lasagna and wine, her favorite comfort meal. Yes, that’s what she’d do, as soon as she got her shit together about Mr. Swoonworthy. Because the last thing she needed right now was to get involved with a man—any man, but especially one who seemed to be a muddle of complex problems. She had her own problems, not the least of which was making sure no one outside of Castile knew where she was. Not to mention the fact that her current situation was a good example of her poor judgment where men were concerned.
She took a sip of the hot mocha latte, letting its warmth soothe her system. Then took another sip, until she felt calm enough to drive. Pulling out into traffic, she headed for the clinic, doing her best to make sure she was wearing her professional persona.
